Chapter 1

Everyone in Manhattan's elite social circles knew the story: Holden Blackwood, the iron-fisted head of the Blackwood family, had gone completely off the rails for love — he'd grounded a commercial flight just to drag Quinn Ashford back to his side after she'd disappeared for three years. Once he'd forced her back into the marriage, he pulled out all the stops to win her over. Designer jewels from Harry Winston flowed into her bedroom in an endless stream. The Louis XIV roses she once adored were planted across the entire estate garden.

But the Quinn Ashford who had once been so easy to please seemed immune to it all. She tore up the handwritten letters Holden had labored over. She gave away the priceless jewelry to the housekeeper without a second glance.

And one afternoon, she set the garden ablaze.

At noon, with the sun blazing overhead, Holden walked into her room, his expression dark and controlled. His custom suit was immaculate — broad shoulders, narrow waist, perfect posture. For seven consecutive years, financial magazines had named him the most striking CEO in the country. But right now, that sharp-edged face was carved with cold fury. He gripped Quinn's throat, his touch brutal, his voice barely holding together: "How long are you going to keep this up? Three years, Quinn. You've been gone three years — do you still hate me that much?"

Quinn laughed. She laughed until her eyes went red, laughed until tears streaked down her face.

"Three years," she said. "It's only been three years since Abby died. How could I possibly stop hating you?"

Holden went rigid.

Three years ago, New York had been shaken by a kidnapping case that made national headlines. Two children had been bound on opposite ends of a bridge. The kidnapper strapped state-of-the-art explosives to both of them and laughed as he forced Holden to choose.

Holden — who was always composed, always untouchable — had red-rimmed eyes as he grabbed Quinn's hand. "Quinn, you're the best bomb disposal expert in the city. Please — save that boy."

Quinn looked at the two blindfolded children. Her brow furrowed. "The girl's timer is shorter. I should get to her first."

A sharp crack as a woman dropped to her knees in front of her. Her eyes were desperate and haunted. "Mrs. Blackwood, please. I can't lose my son."

Quinn had seen her face before. In photographs.

Serena Thorne. The first love Holden had loved fiercely in his youth, then lost — a wound he never quite got over.

Quinn's heart seized. She looked at Holden.

"Yes... that's my child. I only found out recently." Holden's voice was rough. "I'll apologize properly later, I swear. But please — save him first."

The blow knocked Quinn sideways. On instinct she whispered, "No matter who he is, I can't violate my professional code—"

Holden pulled out a knife and pressed it to his own throat.

Quinn went silent.

"Save him first. Or I die in front of you right now."

When she didn't move, Holden pressed harder. Blood ran down his neck.

"No!" Quinn lunged and tore the knife from his hand.

She gave in.

That day on the bridge, she broke her professional code for the first time, moving swiftly to disarm the boy. The moment the timer on his device stopped, the kidnapper let out a wild laugh: "Holden Blackwood — how does it feel to choose between your own two children? I want you to rot in hell forever!"

Quinn's blood turned to ice. She spun around.

The kidnapper ripped off the girl's hood, revealing a face Quinn knew better than her own.

It was Abby. Her daughter.

The little girl's eyes were glassy and confused. She opened her mouth: "Mama..."

The explosion swallowed the rest.

The fireball lit up the sky. In seconds, there was nothing left.

After that day, Quinn vanished from Holden's world.

Holden had lost his mind looking for her. Three years of searching. Now, hearing Quinn speak Abby's name, the pain in his eyes was so raw it seemed to bleed into the air.

He released his grip from Quinn's throat, close to begging: "After I found out Serena was the one who leaked Abby's information to my enemies, I had her arrested. She paid for it."

"Abby's gone. But we can have another child. Forgive me. Please."

Holden Blackwood — the most powerful man in the room, the man who made billion-dollar decisions without blinking — was reduced to helpless pleading.

Quinn's expression shifted slightly. She didn't answer. But she didn't snap back the way she had before.

Holden's eyes lit up like a struck match. "I'll take that as a yes! Quinn, I knew you couldn't let me go."

"Wait here — I'm going to get your favorite macarons from the patisserie!"

And with that, as if he didn't know how else to celebrate, he turned and ran out.

Quinn wiped the tears from the corner of her eyes. She picked up her car keys and slipped out after him.

She followed him through two blocks, watching as he ducked into a sleek Midtown apartment building and pulled a woman into his arms.

"Don't worry. Quinn's forgiven you both. She won't come after you anymore."

Holden stroked Serena Thorne's hair, his voice tender.

Serena leaned into him, her tone laced with sorrow: "I owe her a life — whatever she wants from me, I deserve it. I just feel terrible for Noah. He'll always be... illegitimate, without a real name..."

Holden's eyes softened with what looked like guilt. He held her tighter. "My wife can only be Quinn. But I won't let you and Noah suffer for it."

"Noah will be my only son. When I'm gone, he'll inherit everything."

Outside, Quinn had braced herself. She'd known. But knowing didn't stop the cold from spreading through her body.

So Serena had been in prison.

So they were going to have another child together.

She should have stopped expecting anything a long time ago, shouldn't she?

Back at the estate, Quinn dialed a number.

"He found me. Maybe I have to die before he'll finally let go."

"Please arrange a staged death for me. One month from now."

After she hung up, Quinn's eyes were red — but her gaze was ice.

Holden Blackwood. When you watch me die in front of you, will you feel even a single moment of guilt?