CHAPTER ONE: The Fall Before the Rise
Claire Jordan woke with a jolt, her heart pounding against her ribs like a war drum. Sunlight trickled through the worn-out blinds, illuminating the cramped room she shared with her eight-year-old sister. The silence of the morning was deafening, save for the rhythmic tick of the clock and the weight of yesterday still heavy on her chest.
She’d lost her job.
Because she defended herself.
Because a middle-aged man with expensive cologne and rotting morals decided her body was his playground, and when she refused to be silent, when her palm cracked across his face in a righteous slap, she was thrown out. Fired. Even after the cameras confirmed everything. Her boss had looked her in the eye and said, “We don’t want drama, Claire. You’re done.”
No apology. No justice. Just done.
Her fingers curled around the threadbare sheet as the ache settled in her chest. How would she feed Anne this week? Pay the rent? Keep the child welfare vultures from circling their apartment again?
A cold chill crept through her, and suddenly she wasn’t 24 anymore.
She was 16. Barefoot in her living room. Listening to the muffled arguments behind her father’s study door. Her mother was pacing the kitchen, eyes wild with fear.
“Thief,” one of the men had whispered that day.
“Fraud,” another spat, loud enough for Claire to hear.
Her father had been a brilliant man. A respected accountant. Until the accusations came. And the shame. And the silence that followed.
That night, he had hugged her tighter than usual. His breath is shaky. His eyes were damp.
“I didn’t do it, Claire,” he whispered. “I swear to you… I didn’t.”
She believed him. But it didn’t matter.
The next morning, she found him hanging from the rafters of his study, the chair kicked over beneath him. His body swayed like a broken promise.
She had screamed. Her mother had collapsed. And Claire—Claire stopped crying that day. Forever.
The sound of soft footsteps pulled her back to the present. Anne peeked into the room, her dark curls tousled from sleep, hugging her teddy bear close.
Claire inhaled sharply, brushing off the memories.
“Come here, baby,” she said gently, opening her arms.
Anne climbed into her embrace without hesitation, still warm with sleep. Claire pressed a kiss to her forehead and held her close, letting the love drown out the fear for just a moment.
Today, she would find a job. No matter what.
Across the city, in a penthouse office that touched the clouds…
Luke Morningstar leaned against the glass wall of his skyscraper, staring down at the city that worshiped him. It was his playground. His battlefield. And he always won.
They called him the Devil in a Suit.
They weren’t wrong.
He was ruthless, calculated, and terrifyingly intelligent. His uncles had tried to rip the company from his father’s hands. Now, they were bankrupt, disgraced, or crawling back like dogs.
He built his empire on dominance. Power. Control.
And women? They were the easiest game of all.
He never lied to them. He just never promised anything. They threw themselves at him—desperate for a taste of his name, his touch, his world. And he gave it, only to walk away the next morning without a glance.
His father had built an empire.
Luke Morningstar made it an institution.
But despite everything he had, something lingered beneath the surface. Something cold. A shadow of a memory—a flash of a little girl with fire in her eyes, from long ago.
He shook it off. Emotions were liabilities.
And Luke Morningstar didn’t deal in liabilities
