/1/117494/coverbig.jpg?v=06da02d767b39bdf69327081c75abb81)
eath caught somewhere in her throat. The air conditioning was set too high, raising goosebumps on her arms beneath her blazer, but her palm
nd venomous. A pair of young associates, fresh out of law school and radiating th
er one murmured, not bothering to lower her voice. "After that who
d for Securities Fraud. Her father's face, ashen and defeated, as federal agents led him away in handcuffs. Her mother's silent, streaming tears. And Killian, her husband, standing in t
couldn't fall apart here. Not now. She had spent three years dismantling the woman she was-the naive, hopelessly in love girl who had believed her marriage was a fai
. The chairman of the disciplinary committee, a stern-faced man named Mr. Davies, stepped out. His
voice a low rumble that
eld her
e past three years," he said, his gaze unwavering. "We have decided, by a unanimous vote,
days dissolved. Her knees felt weak. A wave of dizziness washed over her, and she had to grip the wall
say, her voice raspy but professional. "
stopped. She walked past them without a glance, her head held high, and pushed through the glass doors of the building. The New York
s she typed a message to Caleb Hayes, her old law professo
it. I'
do it!" Caleb's voice was a boom of relief and excitemen
b, I
big one. The kind of client that could save this fir
brownstone, specializing in intellectual property for artists and startups. They didn't do "big." "What kind
t's astronomical. Just get here. Please. You're the only o
f the day settling deep into h
he dark tunnels. With every stop, her sense of dread grew. It was
ked into the tiny restroom first, splashing cold water on her face and reapplying a layer of composure a
and the sharp, precise cut of his custom suit spoke of immense wealth and power. The breadth of his shoulders, the confident set of his s
Hayes? I'm Azura Reed. I was
en tension. Then, he spoke, his voice a low, cold baritone that sent a tremor o
a. It's been
d around
mpossibly handsome, brutally cold, with eyes the color of a winter storm. The fa
an Si
as sharp and cruel now as they were then. I never want to see you aga
ngernails, once again, found the soft skin of her palm, diggin
beaded with sweat, his eyes darting between Killian's
ut, her voice a dry, cracking whisper. "
ed over her, cold and assessing. "Oh, I don't think so,"

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