From Abandoned Puppet to the Tycoon's Contract Wife

"Push the price up by another twenty percent and tell them we walk if they do not agree." Gabrielle Webb kept her eyes glued to the glowing screen of her phone as she spoke into the Bluetooth earpiece. She sat in the back of the town car, the heavy black frames of her glasses sliding down the bridge of her nose. She pushed them back up with her index finger, a habit she had perfected over the last five years. "Got it, Gabby," Keira said through the earpiece. Her assistant sounded breathless. "But are you seriously not looking out the window right now? The entire street is stopped." Gabrielle did not look up. She was too busy scrolling through Johan's schedule for the next week. "I am looking at a spreadsheet, Keira. Just handle the paparazzi issue. I do not want any photos of Johan leaving that club last night leaking before his birthday party." "But Colvin Sykes is on the screen," Keira insisted. "The big screen in Times Square. He is actually doing an interview. The whole financial district is losing its mind." Gabrielle let out a soft hum of acknowledgment, her brain barely registering the name. She tapped her finger against the leather armrest. "Make sure the caterers know about the peanut allergy for the director," Gabrielle said. Outside the tinted windows of her car, the giant digital billboard illuminated the night sky. On the screen, Audra Jennings leaned forward in her chair. "Mr. Sykes, what made you decide to move Sykes Capital back to New York after dominating London for so long?" The camera cut to Colvin Sykes. He wore a custom Tom Ford suit that looked like armor. His blue eyes stared directly into the lens. The chaotic noise of Times Square seemed to mute itself. "For a woman," Colvin said. His voice was a low, steady rumble that vibrated through the speakers. "A woman who once rejected me." The internet exploded in real time. Inside the car, Gabrielle's phone vibrated with a screenshot from Keira. The hashtag about Colvin Sykes was already trending. Gabrielle swiped the notification away without opening it. Her screen lit up again with a text from an unknown number. "I have exclusive footage of Johan. It will cost you." Gabrielle let out a tired breath. She typed a reply with rapid, mechanical precision. "Send it to my biggest competitor and see what they pay you." She locked her phone and tossed it into her bag. She pinched the bridge of her nose, a wave of sheer exhaustion washing over her. She was used to cleaning up his messes, used to intercepting these low-level models trying to get a payout because Johan bought them a drink. But the constant vigilance was draining her soul. She took a slow, deep breath, forcing the frustration down. Hopefully, tonight's birthday gift would finally make him settle down. Tonight was about him. She reached into her oversized tote bag and pulled out a sleek wooden box. She traced the smooth surface with her thumb. Inside was a limited edition Patek Philippe watch. It had taken her six months to track it down. A soft smile broke through her professional mask. She pictured Johan's face when he opened it. "We are here, Ms. Webb," the driver said. Gabrielle looked up. The car was idling in front of Johan's luxury apartment building in Tribeca. "Thank you," she said. She grabbed her bag and stepped out into the crisp night air. She pushed her glasses up her nose again and walked toward the glass doors. Her mind was already racing with the logistics of the surprise. She needed to hide the box, dim the lights, and wait for him to come home from his script reading. Miles away, in a penthouse office overlooking Wall Street, Colvin Sykes stood perfectly still. He was staring at a wall of monitors. The center screen showed a live feed of the Tribeca building entrance. He watched the woman in the ill-fitting gray suit walk through the doors. "Sir, Johan Lee and Lacey Morrow entered the same building five minutes ago. Our people are in position and ready to intervene if necessary," Alex Rivers said from the doorway. "I know," Colvin said. He did not turn around. His index finger tapped a slow, rhythmic beat against the edge of his mahogany desk. His jaw clenched so tight the muscle jumped beneath his skin. He had waited five years for this night. He knew exactly what was waiting for her in that apartment. Gabrielle rode the elevator to the top floor. She used her spare key to unlock the door. The apartment was pitch black and completely silent. "Perfect," she whispered to herself. She slipped off her sensible heels and left them by the door. The hardwood floor was cold against her bare feet. She walked down the hallway toward the master bedroom. A faint scent hung in the air. It was sweet, like vanilla and cheap flowers. It did not belong here. Gabrielle ignored the tight feeling in her chest. She pushed the bedroom door open.