Part 2

By midnight, the internet had already named it The Kiss.

Clips spread across every platform with brutal efficiency.

Dominic Stone gripping Sierra Vance beneath the theater lights. The audience gasping. Eliza standing frozen in silver.

Three seconds of humiliation replayed millions of times.

Financial blogs called it reckless. Celebrity tabloids called it scandalous. One gossip channel titled their livestream:

THE QUIET WIFE GETS REPLACED LIVE.

By 2:13 a.m., Dominic finally stumbled into the penthouse overlooking Charleston Harbor.

The marble floors reflected city lights beneath his expensive shoes while his tuxedo jacket hung loose over one shoulder. He smelled of whiskey, adrenaline, and Sierra’s perfume.

“Eliza?” he called.

No answer.

The penthouse felt wrong.

Too quiet.

Then he noticed the dining table.

One envelope rested perfectly centered beneath the chandelier.

His name written across it.

DOMINIC.

For the first time all evening, unease crawled through his chest.

He opened it carelessly.

Inside sat a single black key card.

And one sentence.

Access revoked.

Dominic frowned.

“What the hell is this?”

His phone rang immediately.

Sierra.

He answered with a grin already forming.

“Baby, relax,” he said. “The media storm will die in two days. People love drama.”

But Sierra sounded breathless.

“Dominic… something’s happening.”

“What?”

“My company accounts are frozen.”

His smile disappeared.

“The executive authorization codes stopped working. I can’t access Stone Capital servers. Security escorted me out of the building.”

Dominic straightened.

“That’s impossible.”

Then his own phone vibrated.

Another notification.

STONE CAPITAL BOARD MEETING — EMERGENCY SESSION — 7:00 A.M.

Mandatory attendance.

His jaw tightened.

A second message arrived immediately after.

Until further notice, all executive privileges have been suspended pending ownership verification.

Dominic stared at the screen.

Ownership verification?

He laughed once.

Short. Disbelieving.

“Somebody’s panicking,” he muttered.

But the laugh sounded weaker than he intended.

Across the city, Eliza sat alone inside her father’s old estate.

Unlike the penthouse, this house had never belonged to Dominic.

He hated it.

Too traditional. Too quiet. Too much history.

But Eliza loved it because every wall reminded her who she had been before becoming Mrs. Stone.

Arthur Graham sat across from her in the library while rain whispered softly against the tall windows.

May you like

Stacks of documents covered the mahogany table.

Ownership contracts. Trust agreements. Transfer authorizations. Emergency clauses.

Event Horizon.

Arthur adjusted his glasses.

“All controlling shares have been moved under direct authority as of midnight.”

Eliza nodded.

“And Dominic?”

“Legally?” Arthur replied calmly. “He owns exactly four percent of Stone Capital.”