Chapter 17: The Lie That Burns
The storm breaks at 7:42 p.m.
My phone is off. Damian’s is off. The penthouse is locked down, security tripled, and for once the world feels quiet. We’re on the terrace wrapped in blankets, his hand resting protectively over my stomach, my head on his shoulder as the city lights flicker below like a million tiny fires.
Then the intercom buzzes.
Marcus’s voice comes through, tight.
“Boss. You need to see this. Now.”
Damian tenses beside me. He reaches for the tablet on the side table and powers it on.
The screen lights up with a live feed from a major news channel.
Vanessa Sinclair is on camera.
She’s sitting in what looks like a luxury hotel suite, dressed in soft white, makeup flawless, eyes red-rimmed like she’s been crying for hours. The headline
