POV: Thane
The ring box burns in my pocket like it's on fire.
I've carried it for three months. A violet diamond—rare, flawless, the exact color of Brielle's eyes. Cost me twelve million dollars, but I'd have paid a hundred million. A thousand.
Today's the day. No more hiding. No more pretending I don't love her just to keep her safe from my enemies.
Today, I tell her everything.
I pull up to the SaintClair estate at eight in the morning. The gala isn't until tonight, but I can't wait anymore. I'll pull her aside before the chaos starts. Get down on one knee. Tell her I've loved her since we were sixteen years old.
Tell her I'm sorry for being a coward.
My phone buzzes. Cassian: You better not propose before I do.
Then Dorian: If either of you proposes before talking to me, I'll kill you both.
I stare at the messages, my stomach dropping.
They're in love with her too.
Of course they are. How could they not be? Brielle is... everything. Smart, kind, beautiful. The only person who sees through our masks to who we really are underneath.
This complicates things. But it doesn't change my plan.
I'm proposing today. First. Before they get the chance.
I walk into the estate like I own it—I've been coming here since I was six years old. The housekeeper waves me through. "Mr. Korven! Miss Brielle's still in her room. Probably nervous about tonight!"
"Thanks, Martha."
I take the stairs two at a time, my heart pounding harder with each step. What if she says no? What if she doesn't feel the same way?
No. I've seen how she looks at me when she thinks I'm not watching. She feels it too. She has to.
I reach her door and knock. "Brielle? It's Thane."
Silence.
I knock again, harder. "Brielle, I know it's early, but I need to talk to you. It's important."
Nothing.
Worry starts creeping in. I try the handle. Unlocked.
I push the door open. "Brielle, I'm coming in, so if you're not—"
The words die in my throat.
Her room is empty.
Not just empty like she went downstairs. Empty like she packed and left.
The closet door hangs open. Half her clothes are gone. Her laptop—the one she's attached to like a lifeline—missing. Her favorite books, the photo of her grandmother, the stuffed bear I won her at a carnival when we were twelve.
All gone.
My chest tightens. This isn't right. This isn't normal "getting ready for a party" stuff.
Then I see it. A piece of paper on her perfectly made bed.
I walk over on numb legs and pick it up. My hands shake as I read:
You wanted to be free of your obligation? Congratulations. You are.
The world tilts sideways.
Obligation. She thinks... oh God. She thinks we don't want her.
My mind races back to last night. The garden. Those investors asking invasive questions about which one of us would "take one for the team" and marry her.
I said—what did I say?
"If it weren't for my parents' pressure, I wouldn't even be entertaining this charade."
I said it to get them to shut up. To protect her from being reduced to a business transaction. I meant I wouldn't marry her because of family pressure—I'd marry her because I love her.
But if she heard...
No. No, no, no.
I pull out my phone with shaking hands and call her. Straight to voicemail.
I call again. Same thing.
"Damn it, Brielle, pick up!"
I text her: Where are you? Please call me. This is important.
Nothing.
I try calling the housekeeper. "Martha, when did you last see Brielle?"
"Last night at dinner, sir. Why? Is something wrong?"
I hang up and dial Cassian. He answers on the first ring.
"Thane, look, about the proposal thing—"
"Get to the SaintClair estate. Right now. Emergency."
His playful tone vanishes. "What happened?"
"Brielle's gone. I think—" My voice cracks. I clear my throat and try again. "I think she ran away."
"What? That's insane. Why would she—"
"Just get here. Now. And call Dorian."
I hang up before he can ask more questions.
I stand in her empty room, trying to think. Where would she go? Her parents' vacation house? No, too obvious. A hotel? Maybe. But why run at all?
Unless...
My blood turns to ice.
Last night. The garden. We were all there. Me, Cassian, Dorian. Talking about the gala. Complaining about family pressure.
She could have heard everything.
I pull up her location on my phone—I put a tracker on it years ago after she was almost kidnapped when we were eighteen. Not controlling. Just protective.
The app shows her phone is off. Last location: JFK Airport. Two hours ago.
"No. No, Brielle, what did you do?"
I'm pulling up airport security footage on my laptop when Cassian bursts through the door, Dorian right behind him.
"What's going on?" Cassian demands. "Your text said—" He stops when he sees her empty room. "Where is she?"
I hand him the note without speaking.
Cassian reads it. His face goes white. "Obligation? She thinks we see her as an obligation?"
"Last night," Dorian says quietly, his voice strained. "The garden. We were all complaining about the wedding pressure. If she heard us..."
We all stare at each other in horror.
"What exactly did you say?" I ask Cassian.
"I said we had people we actually wanted. But I meant—"
"You meant her," I finish. "I know. I did the same thing. Told those investors this was just a charade to get them off my back."
"And I said I'd rather die than be forced into marriage with her," Dorian adds, his voice breaking. "But I was refusing arranged marriage. I wanted her to choose me willingly, not because our families demanded it."
Silence. Heavy and horrible.
"She thinks we don't want her," Cassian whispers. "Oh God. She thinks none of us want her."
I pull up the airport footage on my laptop. There—Brielle in a hoodie and sunglasses, dragging a suitcase, buying a ticket at two in the morning.
"Milan," I read off the screen. "She flew to Milan."
"Why Milan?" Dorian asks.
"Does it matter?" I snap. "She's gone because we're idiots who couldn't just tell her the truth!"
"Tell her what truth?" Cassian demands. "That we're all in love with her?"
The words hang in the air between us.
"You love her," I say slowly.
"Don't you?" Cassian shoots back.
I pull the ring box from my pocket and throw it on her bed. "I was going to propose this morning."
Dorian closes his eyes. "I have a ring too. In my car."
"Mine's at my office," Cassian admits. "I was going to do it tonight at the gala."
We stand there, three grown men who run billion-dollar companies, staring at each other like idiots.
"We're all in love with her," I say finally. "And we all drove her away."
"So what do we do?" Dorian asks.
I grab my phone. "We find her. We bring her back. We tell her the truth."
"And then what?" Cassian's voice is sharp. "We all propose? Make her choose between us? That's not fair to her."
"Nothing about this is fair," I snarl. "But letting her think we don't want her? That's worse."
My phone buzzes. Unknown number. Text message:
Looking for your princess? I know where she is. And I know why she ran. Want to know what really happened last night? Meet me at the fountain. Come alone. - V
Vivienne.
My blood runs cold. Vivienne's been obsessed with me for years. I've turned her down a hundred times, but she won't take no for an answer.
"What is it?" Cassian asks, seeing my face.
I show them the text.
"It's a trap," Dorian says immediately.
"I don't care." I'm already heading for the door. "If she knows something about why Brielle left, I need to hear it."
"We're coming with you," Cassian insists.
"The text said alone."
"And I said we're coming." Cassian's voice is steel. "We're in this together now. All three of us. Like it or not."
I want to argue. Want to handle this myself like I handle everything.
But he's right. This isn't just about me anymore.
"Fine. But let me do the talking."
We head down to the fountain where everything went wrong last night. Vivienne's waiting there, looking way too pleased with herself.
"Thane," she purrs. "And you brought your friends. How... cozy."
"What do you know about Brielle?" I demand.
Vivienne's smile widens. "Everything. I know she heard you last night. I know she's running to Milan. I even know she's planning to change her identity to Elle Winters." She pauses for effect. "Want to know how I know all of this?"
My hands clench into fists. "Talk. Now."
"Because I planned it," Vivienne says simply. "I got you all drunk. Steered the conversation. Made sure Brielle was in exactly the right place to hear everything. I wanted her gone, Thane. And now she is."
The world goes red.
Before I can move, before I can think, Cassian lunges forward and grabs Vivienne by the throat.
"You did WHAT?"