It started with a red envelope.
Sitting on Nicholas’s desk when he returned from the gala.
No stamp. No name. Just the ThorneCorp crest… split down the center like it had been slashed.
Nicholas stared at it for a long moment before sliding a blade under the wax seal.
Inside was a single card.
“The empire was never yours to inherit.
It was mine to build.
And now, I’ve come to take it back.”
— E.R.
His jaw locked.
Eli Roth.
The man who made Nicholas’s father rich. The man who trained Gabriel. The man who believed love made men weak.
Alina stepped into the office, silk still clinging to her thighs from the car ride back.
“What’s wrong?”
Nicholas looked up. “He’s back.”
Her brow furrowed. “Roth?”
He nodded once. “And he doesn’t want power. He wants revenge.”
That night, Nichol
