Chapter 1

Helena's POV

The scream tore through my sleep and I shot up in bed, heart hammering so hard.

That's Ethan. That's my husband screaming.

I grabbed my robe with hands that wouldn't stay steady. I pressed my palm against the door for a second, trying to breathe normally, trying to think.

I opened the door.

The living room lights were dimmed low and it took a moment for my eyes to adjust. When they did, I felt the floor tilt under my feet.

Four men. Four strangers sitting in my living room in the middle of the night. Three of them stood by the windows with their hands in their pockets, watching me with blank faces that made my skin crawl. The fourth sat in Dad's old leather armchair with his legs crossed and a glass of scotch in his hand.

And Ethan was on his knees in the middle of the floor.

His face was wrecked. Blood running from his nose, one eye swollen shut, his lip split open and still bleeding. He looked up at me and I saw something in his expression that made everything worse, he looked terrified, but not surprised.

"Good evening, Mrs. Ashford." The man in chair spoke without looking at me. "I apologize for the late hour."

I opened my mouth but nothing came out.

He turned to look at me then and I felt my breath catch.

He was tall even sitting down, dark hair perfectly styled, wearing a suit. Sharp jaw, strong features, the kind of face that belonged on magazine covers or movie screens. But his eyes killed any attractiveness stone dead. They were gray-blue, cold and flat, and right now they were traveling over me.

Oh God, what is this?

"Who are you?"

"Vincent Rossi." He took a slow sip of the scotch and I watched his throat move as he swallowed. "And I think you already know why I'm here, Mrs. Ashford."

I looked at Ethan again. He still wouldn't meet my eyes and that told me everything.

"The gambling debts." The words felt heavy in my mouth.

"Very good." Vincent set down the glass and gestured to one of his men, who stepped forward holding a leather folder. "Your husband owes my family two point eight million dollars. He used your father's estate as collateral for the loans."

The room spun. I grabbed the back of the couch to keep from swaying. "That's not possible. That money is in a trust, it's protected—"

"It was protected." Vincent's voice stayed gentle and somehow that made it ten times more terrifying. "Your husband found ways around those protections. Legal documents you signed. Authorizations you probably don't even remember giving. It's all very thorough."

No. Dad's money. Dad's legacy. The only thing I had left of him.

"Show me."

The folder was placed in my hands and I forced myself to open it. Numbers. Withdrawal receipts. Dad's trust fund, emptied over eighteen months.

At the bottom of the stack was a transfer agreement dated three days ago. Ethan's signature.

He sold me.

My vision went white at the edges. The papers fell from my hands and scattered across the floor. I couldn't breathe. Couldn't think. Couldn't do anything except stare at those documents with my name on them.

"Helena, please, just listen—" Ethan's voice broke through the roaring in my ears.

I turned toward him and something inside me snapped completely.

I don't remember crossing the room. I was on him, hitting him, my knuckles connecting with his already-broken face and I didn't care if it hurt, didn't care about anything except making him feel a fraction of what I was feeling.

"You bastard!" My voice came out as a scream. "You spent my father's money and then you sold me!"

Ethan tried to shield his face but I kept hitting him, punching, clawing, every strike fueled by rage and betrayal and grief that had nowhere else to go.

"Helena, stop, please—" He was crying, blood streaming from his nose again.

"How long?" I was crying too now, tears streaming down my face as I grabbed his collar and shook him. "How long were you planning this? How long were you lying to me?"

"I didn't have a choice!" He sobbed. "They were going to kill me—"

"So you sold me instead!" I slapped him hard enough that my palm stung. "You sold me to save yourself, you fucking coward!"

Strong hands suddenly gripped my arms and pulled me back. One of Vincent's men held me while I struggled, still trying to get at Ethan, my whole body shaking with rage and grief and horror.

"Let me go! Let me go!" I thrashed against the grip but it was iron-solid.

"Enough." Vincent's voice cut through my screaming. He stood up slowly, brushed invisible dust from his suit. "Mrs. Ashford. Helena. Look at me."

I couldn't stop crying. Couldn't stop shaking. But something in his voice made me turn my head toward him.

"Your husband made a deal," Vincent said quietly. "The deal is done. You're coming with me tonight. There's no negotiation. No other option. This is simply how things are now."

"I'm not going anywhere with you." My voice was raw, broken. "I'm not—you can't just—"

"I can." He took a step closer and I saw something in his expression shift. Not quite sympathy, but something less cold than before. "And you will. Because your other option is watching me put a bullet in your husband's head right now, and then dealing with the other people he owes money to when they come looking for payment. And they will come, Helena. They always do."

I looked at Ethan, still on his knees, blood and tears and snot running down his face. He wouldn't even look at me anymore. Just stared at the floor like a coward.

I loved him once. I thought I did. I thought we were building a life together.

"You have ten minutes to decide," Vincent said. "Come with me voluntarily and I'll let him live. Fight me, and I'll kill him right here and take you anyway. Your choice."

"That's not a choice."

"No," Vincent agreed. "But it's the only one you have."

I stood there with Vincent's man still gripping my arms, my knuckles bloody from hitting Ethan, my whole world shattered into pieces around me. Dad's money, gone. My husband, a liar and a coward who sold me to criminals. My freedom, about to disappear into whatever nightmare Vincent Rossi had planned.

What would Dad do? What would he tell me to do?

But Dad was dead. Dead in a car accident three years ago, and all he'd left me was money that was supposed to keep me safe, supposed to take care of me. And now that was gone too, and I was completely alone.

"Fine. I'll go with you."

Vincent's expression didn't change. "Voluntarily?"

I wanted to scream that nothing about this was voluntary, that he was forcing me, that this was kidnapping and human trafficking and a dozen other crimes. But what was the point? He was right. If I refused, Ethan would die and I'd end up with Vincent anyway. At least this way one less person had to die tonight.

Even if that person was the man who'd destroyed my entire life.

"Yes." My voice was steady now, "Voluntarily."

"Good." Vincent nodded to his man, who finally released me. I stumbled forward but caught myself. "Then we have one piece of business to finish first."