Chapter one
The sheets were still warm where she had been.
Liam sat up in bed, his hand sliding across the tangled silk, searching for her body. Empty. Her scent—jasmine and something softer, sweeter—still lingered on the pillows. But she was gone.
He threw the sheets aside and stood, naked, every muscle tense. A quick glance around the penthouse bedroom confirmed it. No heels by the door. No purse. No sign of her phone. She hadn't just slipped into the kitchen or bathroom. She had left. Completely. Quietly.
Liam Robert didn't panic.
But he felt it rising in his chest anyway. Something sharp. Unfamiliar.
His voice came low, dark. "Lyla?"
No answer.
He walked to the living room, scanning for any sign—nothing. No note. No message on the kitchen tablet. The security system blinked green. There were no forced entries. No alerts.
Liam reached for his phone, punched in her number.
Disconnected.
A chill ran through him.
That wasn't like her. She didn't vanish. Not without a reason. And not after the night they'd had.
Last night. His chest tightened.
He had never lost control like that—with anyone. Not in years. Not since his father died. He let her in. He let her see him. Not just the ruthless CEO, not just the name on Forbes' list. She saw the scars. The dark pieces. And she didn't flinch.
Last night, he'd touched her like she belonged to him.
And she whispered things against his skin that made his blood turn to fire.
"If I disappear, it's not because I want to."
His breath caught.
Had she been trying to tell him something?
His phone buzzed. His driver's number. "James?" Liam answered.
But it wasn't James.
It was a cop.
And his world shifted.
"Is this Mr. Robert? I'm calling about your driver, James Keller. There's been an explosion."
Liam froze. "What?"
"We found your driver's ID. Your car… was rigged. A bomb. He was killed on site. We thought you'd want to know. It appears he was the target."
His blood ran cold.
The bomb went off in his car. The same one he was supposed to take to a breakfast meeting this morning. The same one Lyla convinced him not to take.
"Just stay in bed with me, Liam. Please."
Suddenly her early disappearance made sense.
Not fear. Protection.
Liam's fist clenched around his phone until the screen cracked.
He stormed into the bathroom, shoved his hand under cold water, jaw locked.
Someone had tried to kill him. Someone inside his world.
And Lyla had known.
But why didn't she stay? Why didn't she warn him?
Unless…
He stopped. Eyes flicked to the bathroom mirror. Rage simmered low in his gut.
Had she been part of it?
He shook his head. No. He wouldn't believe that.
But he needed answers.
He needed her.
He dressed fast. Charcoal slacks, black shirt, tailored blazer. The uniform of a man who never showed weakness. He checked the cameras—nothing. Lyla had erased her entry and exit from the system. Smart. Too smart.
He hit the penthouse elevator, heading for the underground level where his tech team worked.
By the time he stepped into his private server room, the screens were already humming. His assistant Nora looked up from her terminal, eyes wide.
"You heard?"
"I need to find her," Liam said, cutting to the point. "Trace Lyla Hart. Everything. Phone records, credit cards, traffic cams. Now."
Nora hesitated. "Lyla Hart?"
"Yes. My… legal advisor. She's missing."
Nora's fingers moved across the keyboard. Ten seconds passed.
Then her face went pale.
She turned the screen toward him.
A news alert played.
"BREAKING: Billionaire Victor Draven Marries Mysterious Heiress in Private Ceremony."
Liam's chest cracked open.
There she was. Lyla. In a pale champagne dress. Standing beside Victor Draven—Liam's biggest rival. Cold, smiling, smug as ever.
Lyla's hand was on his arm.
Her face was emotionless.
But her eyes—he zoomed in—were hollow.
As if she were standing in a grave.
Four Months Ago
He had first seen her across the glass conference room. Quiet. New. Her brown eyes lowered when she spoke, always measured. But when she looked up and met his gaze—there was fire. Untamed. Untrained. And she didn't even know it.
She had walked into his company like a ghost. No family, no old ties. Just a degree, a perfect résumé, and secrets buried under silence.
He fell fast. Harder than he thought possible.
He told himself it was lust. Curiosity.
But by the time she slipped into his bed, and then his soul, it was already too late.
She had broken him. Or maybe healed something he didn't realize was broken.
And now, she was gone.
And married to his worst enemy.
⸻
Back in the present, Liam turned from the screen, heart slamming.
Nora's voice came through, hesitant. "Sir… this isn't possible. She didn't have any family background. No financial trail. Nothing tied to Draven."
"Dig deeper," Liam growled. "She's not who we thought."
Or maybe she was never mine to begin with.
His chest clenched.
Another call came in—from his security chief. Internal sweep confirmed what he feared.
The bomb was an inside job. Someone close. Someone who knew his route.
Someone who wanted him dead.
Liam stared at the screen where Lyla stood next to Draven.
What the hell was going on?
He leaned over the table, voice low. "Bring me everything on Draven. And I want satellite traces on Lyla Hart for the past 24 hours."
"Yes, sir."
He stepped back into the elevator, returning to the penthouse. As the doors closed, the steel and mirrors reflected a man barely keeping it together.
She was supposed to be his.
And now… this?
The moment the doors opened, he poured himself a glass of scotch. Swallowed it down hard.
His mind was on fire.
It didn't make sense.
Lyla had whispered love against his throat. Her body had melted under his hands. She had touched his scars, his fears, and held them like treasure.
Women had begged for his attention.
Lyla made him beg.
But maybe that was the plan all along.
Seduce the king. Steal the throne. Burn his kingdom.
And yet…
"If I disappear… it's not because I want to."
His phone buzzed again. Nora's voice crackled through the intercom.
"Sir. You need to see this."
"Put it on screen."
A surveillance shot. From four hours ago. At a high-security checkpoint outside Victor Draven's estate.
Lyla. Alone.
In the footage, she hesitated before entering. Looked back once. Then disappeared behind iron gates.
And as the feed froze on her face—Liam saw it.
A single tear running down her cheek.
She wasn't there by choice.
And that meant one thing.
She was still his.
And someone had taken her.