Her Billionaire Fiancé Threw Her Into the Rain With a Broken Suitcase — Then the Man Who Saved Her Revealed the Secret That Could Destroy His Empire.

—

PART 5

Elena stayed in Damian’s penthouse for twenty-six days.

On the twenty-seventh, she moved into a one-bedroom apartment in Queens with a radiator that clanged at three in the morning and a kitchen barely wide enough for one person.

She loved it immediately.

Her name was the only one on the lease.

Whitlock Design Studio reopened from a rented office in Midtown with bare walls, one drafting table, two secondhand chairs and a north-facing window that Damian said was “good for work.”

Two former clients followed her. Diane Callaway, who owned the Callaway Hotel, did not even pretend to consider remaining with Mercer Group.

“I hired you,” Diane told her. “Not the man standing beside you.”

A third client came through one of Damian’s introductions.

Elena accepted only after confirming the contract was clean, the rate was fair and Damian would receive nothing from it.

He never complained about her caution.

When Damian visited her new office, he stood near the window and studied the empty space like it was a completed building.

“The light is good,” he said.

“Terrible for photographs. Excellent for work.”

“Then it suits you.”

Elena had learned to recognize when he was being careful with her.

“Was that a compliment?” she asked.

“It was an observation about light.”

“You’re very careful.”

“I have reasons to be.”

She folded her arms.

“Are those reasons connected to why you searched for me?”

For the first time, his controlled expression shifted.

He looked toward the window.

“Yes.”

“Are you going to tell me?”

“Soon.”

“That word is becoming irritating.”

“I know.”