Victoria’s POV
My penthouse overlooked Manhattan like a throne above the city, towering high enough to make the people below look insignificant. Beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows, thousands of lights shimmered against the darkness like scattered diamonds while the distant hum of traffic drifted faintly through the glass. The city was alive. I felt nothing.
I stood motionless before the glass, a crystal wineglass resting loosely between my fingers. The deep crimson liquid caught the glow of the city, yet I hadn’t taken more than a single sip. Most people would have called this view breathtaking. To me, it was simply another reminder that Adrian Blackwood was still out there… still breathing, still rebuilding everything I had once believed belonged to us. Every new skyscraper bearing his
