Zara's POV
The contract burns in my mind even though I destroyed it two days ago.
Too late. Marcus has a copy. And he's going to use it.
I climb higher on the ladder, reaching for the ceiling beam where the ivory fabric needs to drape. It's past midnight at The Plaza ballroom. I should be home sleeping, but sleep means nightmares about that contract, about Marcus, about everything I've been hiding.
So instead, I'm hanging wedding decorations alone at 12:47 AM, trying to outwork my demons.
The ladder wobbles.
I freeze, gripping the fabric tighter. "No no no—"
It wobbles again, harder this time. My foot slips.
I'm falling.
I scream.
Then suddenly—I'm not falling. Strong arms catch me, pulling me against a solid chest. The ladder crashes to the floor with a metallic clang that echoes through the empty ballroom.
My heart hammers so hard I can feel it in my throat. I'm shaking, gasping, clutching whoever caught me like they're the only solid thing in the universe.
"I've got you. You're safe."
That voice.
I look up slowly.
Ethan Cross stares down at me, his gray eyes intense. His arms are locked around my waist, holding me against him. I can feel his heart pounding too, fast and hard.
"What—" My voice comes out breathy. "What are you doing here?"
"Saving you from breaking your neck, apparently." But his voice isn't cold. It's rough, worried. "What the hell are you doing here at midnight?"
"Working."
"On a ladder. Alone. In an empty building." His jaw tightens. "That's dangerous and stupid."
"Thanks for the insult—"
"It's not an insult. It's a fact." His arms are still around me. Neither of us has moved. "You could have died."
"But I didn't. You caught me."
"I almost didn't catch you." Something flickers in his eyes—fear? "I was leaving. I heard you scream from the hallway."
We're still pressed together. I can smell his cologne—woodsy, expensive, making my brain go fuzzy. His hands are warm on my waist. My palms are flat against his chest and I can feel every breath he takes.
"You can let go now," I whisper.
"I know."
But he doesn't. And I don't step back.
The air between us crackles with something dangerous. Something that's been building since that first explosive meeting. Since the elevator. Since the café when he called me brave.
"Ethan—"
"Don't," he says quietly. "Don't ask me what I'm thinking. Because the answer will complicate everything."
"Everything's already complicated."
"It can get worse."
"How?"
His eyes drop to my lips. "Trust me. It can."
My breath catches. Is he going to—
My phone rings, shattering the moment.
We jump apart like we've been electrocuted. Ethan steps back, running a hand through his hair. I grab my phone with shaking hands.
Sienna's name flashes on the screen.
"I have to take this," I say.
Ethan nods, turning away. Giving me space. But I can see the tension in his shoulders.
"Sienna?" I answer. "Is everything—"
"He was with her!" Sienna's voice is choked with tears. "At the premiere. His ex-girlfriend. I saw them, Zara. His hands were on her waist. They were laughing. And when I confronted him, he said I was being paranoid!"
My stomach drops. "Where are you now?"
"The penthouse. Alone. Dante left. Just walked out in the middle of our fight." She's crying harder now. "What if he's with her right now? What if I'm making the biggest mistake of my life marrying him?"
I catch Ethan's eye. He's already pulling out his phone, typing rapidly.
"Sienna, listen to me," I say firmly. "Don't make any decisions tonight. Emotions are high. We'll figure this out in the morning—"
"The wedding's in six weeks! Six weeks and I don't even know if my fiancé is faithful!"
"I'm texting Dante now," Ethan calls over. "I'll find him."
"Was that Ethan?" Sienna sniffles. "You're together? At midnight?"
"We're at the venue. Working." Sort of. "Sienna, I need you to breathe. Can you do that for me?"
She takes a shaky breath. "I can't lose him. But I can't marry someone who's going to cheat on me either."
"You won't. We won't let that happen." I look at Ethan helplessly. He's already moving toward me, hand out for the phone.
"Let me talk to her," he mouths.
I hesitate, then hand it over.
"Sienna, it's Ethan Cross." His voice is calm, professional. "I need you to tell me exactly what you saw tonight. Details matter." He listens, his expression darkening. "And Dante's response was... I see." Pause. "No, that's not acceptable. You're right to be upset."
I stare at him. Ethan Cross, the man who thinks love is a delusion, is validating her feelings?
"Here's what's going to happen," Ethan continues. "Zara and I are coming to your penthouse right now. We're going to have a conversation—all four of us, once I locate Dante—and we're going to get the truth. No more speculation. No more paranoia. Facts only." He pauses. "Can you wait for us?"
"Okay," Sienna's voice is small through the phone. "Okay. Thank you."
Ethan hangs up and immediately dials another number. "James? I need you to track down Dante Morelli. Now. Check his usual spots—no, I don't care what time it is. This is important... Yes, really... Call me back in ten minutes."
He ends the call and turns to me. "We need to go."
"You have someone tracking Dante?"
"James is my law partner. He has contacts everywhere." Ethan grabs his briefcase. "Come on."
We rush through the empty Plaza hallways. My mind is spinning. The almost-kiss. The ladder. Sienna's tears. Dante's suspicious behavior.
In the taxi, Ethan is on his phone, texting rapidly. I stare out the window, watching Manhattan blur past.
"Thank you," I say quietly. "For catching me. For helping with Sienna."
"It's my job."
"No, it's not. Your job is the prenup. Not crisis counseling at midnight."
He's quiet for a moment. "Maybe my job description is expanding."
"Why?"
He looks at me then, really looks at me. "You know why."
My heart does a dangerous flip. Before I can respond, his phone rings.
"James? ... You found him where? ... Jesus Christ." Ethan's face goes hard. "We're on our way."
He hangs up and leans forward. "Driver, change of destination. The Carlyle Hotel."
"The Carlyle?" I repeat. "Why is Dante at—"
"He's in the bar. With his ex-girlfriend."
No. No no no.
"That doesn't mean—"
"They've been there for two hours. Drinking. Talking. Very close." Ethan's voice is grim. "This is exactly what I warned about. The fantasy falling apart."
"We don't know what's happening—"
"Don't we?" He turns to me, and for the first time since I met him, I see genuine anger. "I've seen this a thousand times, Zara. The cheating. The lies. The wedding that should never happen. This is why I do what I do."
"Dante loves her—"
"Love isn't enough! It never is!" His voice rises. "People cheat. People lie. People destroy each other in the name of love and then wonder why they're miserable."
"You're wrong—"
"Am I? Then explain what we're about to walk into."
The taxi stops. The Carlyle Hotel looms in front of us, all old money and discretion.
Ethan throws cash at the driver and storms out. I follow, my heels clicking on the pavement.
Inside, the bar is dimly lit, intimate, exclusive. And there, in a corner booth, is Dante Morelli with a beautiful brunette. Their heads are close together. His hand covers hers on the table.
My heart sinks.
"There's your fairy tale," Ethan says bitterly. "Six weeks before the wedding."
Before I can respond, Dante looks up and sees us. His face goes white.
The brunette turns too. And I recognize her immediately.
My blood turns to ice.
It's not just any ex-girlfriend.
It's Dante's ex-wife. The one he divorced five years ago. The one Sienna didn't know he'd been in contact with.
And she's pregnant.
Very, very pregnant.
Dante stands slowly, his expression desperate. "Ethan. Zara. This isn't what it looks like—"
"Really?" Ethan's voice is deadly calm. "Because it looks like you're having an intimate drink with your pregnant ex-wife while your fiancée cries alone in your penthouse."
The woman—Dante's ex—puts a protective hand on her belly. "Dante, you said you'd tell her—"
"Tell her what?" I ask, my voice shaking.
Dante looks like he might be sick. "The baby. It's mine."
The world tilts.
"You got your ex-wife pregnant while engaged to Sienna?" Ethan's fury is ice-cold now. "When?"
"Three months ago. Before I proposed. It was one night, a mistake, I was drunk—" Dante is babbling now. "I didn't know she was pregnant until two weeks ago. I've been trying to figure out what to do—"
"Two weeks?" I can barely breathe. "You've known for two weeks and didn't tell Sienna?"
"I was going to! Tonight! That's why I came here—to tell Isabella first, to figure out child support, custody—"
"While your fiancée plans your wedding." Ethan's voice could cut glass. "While she picks out flowers and chooses a dress for a marriage that's already over."
"It's not over!" Dante pleads. "I love Sienna! The baby doesn't change that—"
"Doesn't change—" I can't even finish the sentence. This is worse than Marcus. Worse than anything I imagined.
My phone buzzes. A text from Sienna:
"Are you on your way? I need you. I'm falling apart."
She has no idea. No idea that in about ten minutes, her entire world is going to explode.
"We have to tell her," I whisper. "Right now."
"Agreed," Ethan says. "But we do it together. She'll need both of us."
Dante grabs my arm. "Please. Let me tell her. Let me explain—"
"You've had two weeks to explain." I pull away. "You lost that right."
Ethan and I turn toward the door.
"Wait!" Isabella's voice stops us. "There's something else you should know."
We turn back.
She looks between us, her face pale. "I'm not the only secret Dante's been keeping from Sienna. There's someone else he's been protecting. Someone who's been blackmailing him. That's the real reason he hired you, Mr. Cross. Not for a prenup."
The air leaves my lungs.
"What are you talking about?" Ethan demands.
Isabella looks at me. Really looks at me. "Ask him about Marcus Reid. Ask him why Marcus has been calling him for weeks. Ask him what Marcus offered in exchange for sabotaging your career, Miss Kingsley."
The floor drops out from under me.
No. No no no no.
Dante's face is ashen. "Isabella, shut up—"
"Marcus Reid has been blackmailing you?" Ethan's voice is dangerously quiet. "About what?"
"About the baby," Isabella whispers. "Marcus knew about the baby before we did. He has proof—photos, text messages. He threatened to go to the tabloids unless Dante helped him destroy Zara's reputation with this wedding."
The room spins.
Marcus and Dante. Working together. This entire time.
"The wedding," I breathe. "This whole wedding is a trap."
Ethan turns to Dante, and I've never seen him look so deadly. "Is this true?"
Dante's silence is answer enough.
My phone rings. Sienna again.
But before I can answer, the bar's TV screen flickers to life. Breaking news.
And there, on every screen, is a photo of Dante and Isabella. Tonight. In this bar. His hand on hers.
The headline: "Celebrity Director's Secret Pregnant Ex Exposed—Wedding to Sienna Vale in Jeopardy"
Someone leaked it. Someone called the press.
My phone explodes with notifications. Texts. Calls. Emails.
The wedding is imploding. Live. In real-time.
And Marcus Reid just won.