By the time I stepped into the lobby of Preston Enterprises the next morning, my stomach was already in knots.
I didn’t need caffeine. My anxiety was enough to keep me wide awake and buzzing.
The marble floors gleamed under the warm lighting, reflecting the sleek chaos of the busiest office building in the city. Everything about this place screamed power. The kind of power that didn’t just sit in boardrooms—it trickled down, touching everyone who worked here, even those of us who spent our days glued to switchboards and routing calls.
Normally, I took a deep breath and powered through, but this morning felt different.
Because now I knew.
I knew who Zander really was.
Zane Preston.
The man whose name was etched into the building’s glass doors.
The man whose company was whispered abo
