Chapter 3: The Burning Will

Her throat was parched.

Sophia opened her eyes to an unfamiliar room. The scent of cedarwood drifting through the air cut through the fog in her head.

She pushed herself upright, and her gaze landed on a tall, composed figure.

Sebastian Crawford sat at the foot of the bed on a small sofa, dressed in a dark-gray silk loungewear set, a financial magazine open in his hands.

At the sound of her stirring, he turned a page.

Sophia gripped the edge of the duvet. "Where am I?"

"Your fever hit thirty-nine point eight. The house doctor just left."

Sebastian closed the magazine and glanced at his watch.

"It's eight fifteen. You have forty-five minutes to make a decision."

Her mind was still slow. "What decision?"

"Thirty minutes ago, the Windsor family and the New York Art Association jointly issued a public blacklist against you. Evelyn Windsor has filed a formal accusation naming you as having plagiarized her work."

"Your business partners have petitioned the court for immediate contract termination. If you don't produce two million dollars in penalty fees by nine o'clock, you'll be taken directly to the highest-security women's correctional facility in New York."

The blood seemed to freeze in Sophia's veins.

Evelyn was turning it around on her. That painting had been hers — she'd lost count of the sleepless nights it had cost her.

"Let's go, Mrs. Crawford."

Sebastian rose to his feet. "City Hall. Once it's official and stamped, Crawford Consortium's legal team takes over everything."

Twenty minutes later, a black Maybach pulled up outside Manhattan City Hall.

The registration process moved quickly.

Photographs. Signatures. Stamps.

"Congratulations to you both."

Sebastian slipped the certificate into the inside pocket of his jacket without expression. "But to clear your name, the legal team will need evidence from you."

"The original drafts!"

Sophia looked up, urgency sharp in her eyes.

"All my rough sketches, discarded work, my concept notes — they're all locked in my studio in Brooklyn. If we can get to them, we can prove Evelyn stole my painting."

"Get in the car."

The Maybach cut through the city and stopped in front of an aging rental building in Brooklyn.

Sebastian's phone buzzed — an emergency intercontinental video conference from the European division.

"Take the call here. I'll go up myself. The safe is small — I'll be right back down."

Sophia's nerves were burning. She shoved the car door open and sprinted toward the stairwell.

Sebastian's brow furrowed slightly. He tilted his head toward the bodyguard in the front seat. "Stay with her."

Sophia moved fast, leaving the broad-shouldered bodyguard half a flight behind.

When she reached the studio door, the lock had been smashed open.

Her breath caught. She threw the door wide.

The studio that had once been neat was now gutted. The easel had been destroyed, paint splashed across every surface. The wall safe had been cut open with what looked like a power tool.

"Well, well. If it isn't Sophia — the one who ran off with some random man last night."

Evelyn Windsor was sitting in the one chair left standing, turning a lighter over in her fingers.

A few feet away stood Evan Parker.

He turned at the sound of Sophia's entrance and took in her pale, sweat-drenched face, his brow creasing.

He'd spent all of last night furious after the hotel bodyguard had thrown him out and two of his projects had fallen through without explanation. He'd convinced himself Sophia had deliberately found some rich older man as a performance — a way to make him jealous. He was equally convinced that a woman who had loved him for a solid year, who had been willing to strip for a club stage just to keep him, would never actually leave. She was throwing a tantrum. Playing hard to get.

"Are you done?" Evan asked, one hand in his pocket, his tone carrying that familiar edge of casual authority.

"Going out and finding some old man to put on a show for my benefit. Very creative."

He sighed, stepping forward, his voice softening to something almost magnanimous. "Come on. Stop pretending."

"I know last night was just you acting out. Come here, apologize, promise me you won't see that man again — and I'll have Evelyn give your drafts back. I might even—" he paused for effect, "—let this go."

He watched her, full of certainty, waiting for her eyes to fill and for her to walk into his arms.

"Let it go?"

Sophia stared at him as though he'd just said something so absurd it barely warranted a response.

"Evan Parker, you make me sick."

His expression darkened immediately. "Watch yourself, Sophia."

"Do you have any idea what I just saved you from? Without me, Evelyn wouldn't just be burning your drafts — she'd be burning your entire career down to the ground."

"How touching, Evan. Really."

Evelyn cut him off with a cold laugh.

From beneath the bottom layer of the drafts, she drew out a yellowed document bearing a lawyer's stamp and seal.

The moment Sophia saw it, her pupils contracted.

"Funny thing, dear sister."

"While I was looking for your precious paintings, I found something else tucked inside the safe lining." Evelyn held it up. "Your mother's original will."

She brought the lighter close to the document's edge, her eyes venomous.

"Turns out the estate we've been living in — the one we renamed Windsor Manor — and the Delgado Consortium shares your father controls? None of it was ever his."

"Your mother left everything to you. All of it. To be yours when you turned twenty-two."

Evelyn's jaw tightened. "Why should you — a leftover child nobody wanted — get to have any of this?"

"Don't touch it!"

Sophia lunged forward.

"Stop right there."

"Get on your knees. Go live on every platform you have. Tell the world you plagiarized me. Otherwise—"

Click.

A flame jumped to life. The corner of the will caught.

"No!" Sophia threw herself forward.

The moment she collided with Evelyn, a powerful arm locked around her waist from behind, lifting her clean off the ground and pulling her back against a broad, solid chest.

Then the man's foot drove into Evelyn without hesitation, sending her crashing across the floor.

Evelyn screamed as she went flying, the lighter and the will both spinning from her grip.

Sebastian kept one arm around Sophia as his shoe came down on the back of Evelyn's hand — the hand now scrambling toward the fallen document.

He took in the scattered drafts on the floor, covered in dust and paint. Something cold and furious settled in his eyes.

"Which hand lit the fire? Which foot was it that went through her work?"

Evan erupted, surging forward on instinct. "Who the hell do you think you are? You touch her again and I'll—Sophia is my girlfriend—"

The words died in his throat.

He could finally see the man's face clearly.

Sebastian Crawford.

"Your girlfriend?" Sebastian's gaze was lethal.

He was about to speak when Evelyn's laughter rose from the floor, sharp and unhinged.

"You think getting that will back changes anything, Sophia?!"

"Your mother didn't die of illness. Your father pulled her off life support himself — to take the money."

Sophia tore herself from Sebastian's hold. Her hand closed around a utility knife on the floor, and she threw herself at Evelyn—