And I knew whatever love Nila felt for me would vanish like it never existed.

I couldn’t move, but it didn’t stop Cut from prowling toward me and placing the hated item into my shaking hands. Curling my fingers around the salt shaker, I hated that something so simple could deliver something so unforgivable.

My father murmured, “You have one last chance, Jethro. Use it well.”

Ice howled.

Snow fell.

Blizzards blew like fury.

I hung my head and gave in.

Motherfucking shit.

That was yesterday.

A Sunday I would never forget.

Today was Monday.

A Monday that I wished I could erase.

Last Monday had been full of freedom, kisses, and passion; polo and sex and blistering new beginnings.

This Monday was full of mourning and pain. Today was the day I became the true heir to Hawksridge because if I didn’t, I doubted I would wake in the morning.

Cut hadn’t said as much. But it was what he didn’t say that made the biggest impression.

Do this or I’ll kill you.

Obey me or this is the end.

Cut had seen what I knew he would. He took great pleasure in informing me that he knew I’d fucked Nila. He knew I’d chased after her during half-time at polo, and he knew my allegiances were changing.

It’d been a long fucking night.

After our talk, he’d forced me to go deep, deep inside. He tore away any progress Nila had made with me and filled me with snow once again.

In an odd way, I was grateful.

Grateful because without him tampering with my psyche, there was no way in flying fuck I would’ve got through today.

I thought I’d had months.

I thought I’d been the one in control of when the next payment would happen, but as always…I was wrong.

Cut had seen my ultimate plan before I’d even finalised the details.

He’d understood my tentative scheming of dragging out the debts until I was thirty. By then, I would’ve been in charge. By then, I might’ve found a way to spare Nila’s life without losing mine.

I had the Sacramental Pledge over the Debt Inheritance.

I’d put things in place to end this—once and for all.

But none of my forward thinking mattered anymore.

Today was the day Nila paid the Second Debt.

THE MOMENT JETHRO walked into my quarters, I knew.

We’d slept together three times, spent only weeks in each other’s company, yet I knew his soul almost as well as I knew my own.

Mystery still shrouded him, still hid so much, but I’d learned to read his body language.

I’d learned how to listen to his heart.

“No,” I whispered, clutching the tulle I’d been working on to my chest.

Jethro looked away, his face blank and unfeeling. “Yes.”

I didn’t need words to tell me what had happened. The truth was far too vivid to ignore.

His father.

His father had shoved him back into the blizzard and slammed the door in his face. He’d done something to him that wedged a canyon between us and left us with only one thing.

The debts.

Our emotions were on hold.

Our connection severed.

My heart sank.

I let the lilac tulle slip through my fingers, destroying the carefully pinned pattern of a ball gown that would be my centre piece of my Rainbow Diamond Collection.

Last night, I’d formulated a few goals. If I intended to stay at Hawksridge, to finish whatever had begun between Jethro and me, I had to give the outside world an explanation.

I had to put an end to the suspicion about what’d happened to me.

People were talking. This morning, I’d turned on my phone and browsed a few websites for what they thought happened to me. Scarily, there were a few very close to the truth—it seemed strange that something so incomprehensible could be guessed at so closely.

Almost as if someone had been telling secrets that they shouldn’t.

Vaughn perhaps?

Could he be behind the leaked knowledge? I wanted to ask him but he hadn’t replied to my messages. He’d gone completely silent.

Regardless, it didn’t matter. I was stuck here, and I had to find some way to deal with what was out there. It was time to announce a new fashion line, and at the same time, put those rumours to rest.

Along with the hunches on my disappearance, I’d also read Jethro’s message that he sent the morning of the polo match. His words were sincere but also full of regret. Would his offer to answer my questions via text still stand—even when he looked at me as if he were dead inside?

Pulling extra pins from my cuffs, I shook my head. “Jethro…it’s too soon.”

I thought I’d have weeks yet…months even. You didn’t think—you hoped.

If I had known this would happen, I would’ve gone to him sooner. I would’ve forced him to face the truth and discuss once and for all what’d happened between us last Monday. Instead, I’d done nothing but work. I didn’t wander the premises or go for a run. The constant fear of where Daniel lurked had kept me trapped better than any bars or cage.

Trembles took over my chilled muscles. “Surely there must be a way to stop—”

“Quiet, Ms. Weaver. I have no patience for your begs.” Stalking toward me, he growled, “You know what is expected of you.”

I searched his gaze for the warmth and golden glow of before.

There was nothing.

Closing the distance, I wrapped my arms around his frigid body. Once again, his extremities were cold. No heat. No liveliness.