Five years was supposed to be enough time for a ghost to stay buried.
Elena stood in the center of her light-filled studio, her heart rhythmically keeping time with the ticking of the vintage clock on the wall. The space was her sanctuary. It smelled of fresh cedar, high-end drafting ink, and the faint, sweet scent of the lavender she kept on her desk. It was a world away from the sterile, metallic hospital air of her past-the scent of the day her soul had been traded for a merger.
She wasn't the broken, discarded girl Marcus Thorne had walked away from anymore. She was Elena Vance, the "Architect of Light," the woman whose blueprints were sought after by every major city in the country. She had built a wall around her life, brick by brick, using her talent as mortar, until she believed she was untouchable.
"Mama! Look, the sky is pink! It's like your favorite sunset painting!"
The voice of her five-year-old son, Leo, broke through her reverie. He was pressed against the floor-to-ceiling glass of her office window, his small hands leaving smudges on the pristine surface. He was her greatest achievement, her light, and her joy. But he was also a living, breathing reminder of the man she had spent every waking hour trying to forget.
When Leo turned to smile at her, Elena felt that familiar, sharp ache in her chest. He had Marcus's unmistakable sharp jawline, the same thick, dark hair that refused to stay neat, and those hauntingly intelligent blue eyes—the color of the deep Atlantic just before a storm hits.
"It's beautiful, Leo," Elena whispered, crossing the room to ruffle his hair. She felt a shiver of unease she couldn't explain.
She didn't know that three days ago, a candid photo of her and Leo laughing over ice cream in a local park had been snapped by a passing blogger. The caption had read: The mysterious genius architect Elena Vance with her mini-me. It had gone viral in hours, shared by design enthusiasts and gossip columnists alike. It was meant to be a celebration of her success, a humanizing look at a private icon. Instead, it was a beacon for a monster.
The doorbell to her private residence—the converted warehouse that housed both her studio and their home—didn't ring. There was no polite knock, no warning. The heavy, steel-reinforced door was pushed open by someone who didn't believe in boundaries.
Elena froze. Her security system was top-of-the-line, a fortress of digital locks and encrypted codes. Only one person in the world possessed the resources and the sheer arrogance to bypass those protocols.
Marcus Thorne stepped into the room.
The air in the studio seemed to vanish, sucked out by the sheer gravity of his presence. He looked the same, yet somehow more lethal. The five years had added a sophisticated silver sheen to his temples and a deeper, more permanent coldness to the set of his shoulders. He wasn't wearing one of his trademark three-piece suits; he was in a dark, charcoal cashmere sweater that molded to his frame, making him look less like a businessman and more like a predator out for a stroll.
His eyes didn't go to Elena. Not at first. They went straight to the boy standing by the window.
Elena saw the moment the truth hit him. Marcus's face, usually an unreadable mask of stone, cracked for a split second. His pupils dilated as he stared at Leo—at the living proof of the five years he had lost.
"Leo, go to your room," Elena said, her voice sounding like it was coming from deep underwater. Her lungs burned.
"But Mama, the man... he looks like."
"Go. Now, Leo!"Elena's voice was sharper than it had ever been.
Leo, sensing the sudden, violent shift in the atmosphere, scurried away, clutching his toy dragon to his chest. Marcus watched him go, his hands clenched into white-knuckled fists at his sides. The silence that followed was suffocating, heavy with the weight of half a decade of secrets.
"Five years, Elena," Marcus finally spoke. His voice was a low, dangerous rumble that vibrated in her very bones. "I searched three continents for you. I hired agencies that specialized in finding people who didn't want to be found. And you were right here, building a kingdom under my nose."
"I have nothing to say to you, Marcus. You signed the papers. You chose your merger. Now leave."
"You have plenty to tell me," he countered, his steps slow and predatory as he moved toward her. He pulled a crumpled copy of the viral photo from his pocket and slammed it onto her drafting table, right over the sketches of a new library. "Who is the boy, Elena?"
"He's mine," Elena snapped, her eyes flashing with a fire he hadn't seen in the quiet woman he'd divorced. "He is my son. He has nothing to do with you or the Thorne name."
"Don't lie to me!"Marcus roared, the sound echoing off the high industrial ceilings like a thunderclap. "Look at him! He is my splitting image. He has my eyes, my face, my blood. You signed a divorce paper, and you stole my heir, Elena. You committed a crime against the Thorne legacy."
"I saved him!" Elena screamed back, her heart hammering against her ribs so hard she thought it might break. "I saved him from a father who thinks people are assets! I saved him from a house that feels like a tomb!"
"He is a Thorne!"Marcus stepped closer, his shadow engulfing her. "And no, Thorne is raised in a flower-scented cottage in the middle of nowhere by a woman who thinks she can hide from the world."
"He is happy here! We don't need your money! I am successful, Marcus. I have my own empire now!"
Marcus laughed, a dry, humorless sound that chilled her to the bone. "You think your success was a coincidence? You won the 'Thorne Plaza' renovation bid last month. You were so proud of that contract, weren't you? The 'Anonymous Client' who offered you fifty million dollars to design the new heart of New York City?"
Elena's blood turned to ice. Her knees felt weak as the realization hit her. The Aethelgard Project... the crowning achievement of her career... "That was... that was you?"
"I didn't know it was you until that photo went viral," Marcus admitted, his gaze intense and burning. "But now that I know, the contract has changed. You will finish the project, Elena. It will be the greatest thing you ever built. But you will do it from the Thorne Estate. You and the boy move in tonight."
"I refuse," Elena hissed, her voice trembling with rage. "I'll quit. I'll burn the blueprints. I'll sell this house and disappear so deep you'll never find us again."
"You can't sell what you don't own," Marcus said calmly, his voice returning to that terrifyingly professional level. He leaned over her desk, looking her directly in the eye. "I bought this property twenty minutes ago, the land, the studio, the home you've built. I also bought the mortgage for your architectural firm. As of this moment, Elena, I am your landlord, your primary client, and your son's father."
Elena gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. The world felt like it was tilting on its axis. "You... you can't just buy a person's life."
"I am Marcus Thorne," he reminded her, his voice dropping to a dark, velvet promise. "I can do anything. I have a fleet of cars outside. You have one hour to pack Leo's things and your essentials. If you aren't in the car by then, I'll have my legal team file for an emergency custody injunction. I'll argue that you kidnapped an heir and raised him in an insecure environment. You'll be tied up in court for years, and you'll lose him."
Elena felt the walls of her beautiful, light-filled studio closing in. He had trapped her perfectly, using her own success-the project she had poured her soul into-as the bars of her cage.
"I hate you," she whispered, tears of pure rage blurring her vision.
Marcus stepped so close she could feel the heat radiating from his body, the familiar, intoxicating scent of sandalwood and power. He reached out, his thumb catching a stray tear on her cheek with a touch that was unexpectedly soft, yet firm.
"Hate me all you want, Elena," he whispered, his voice dropping to a seductive, lethal level. "But you're coming home. And this time, no signature in the world will let you leave. You are mine. He is mine. And the Thorne family is whole again."
Elena looked into his eyes and saw the truth. The man who had traded her for a merger five years ago was gone. In his place was someone much more dangerous: a man who realized that some things were worth more than gold.