The Iron Vow

“To spite you?” I stepped forward, looking down at the man I had wasted three years of my life trying to understand. “Ethan, you overestimate your importance in my biography.”

“My firm is collapsing,” Ethan stammered, his bravado entirely evaporating as he dropped his gaze to the floor. “The board is auditing my accounts. They found the discrepancies in the escrow transfers. If I don't produce capital by Monday morning, I’m facing federal fraud charges.”

“The escrow transfers,” I repeated, a cold smile touching my lips. “You mean the money you skimmed to pay off Lila’s mounting credit card debts and your downtown club memberships?”

Ethan’s eyes widened in sheer terror.

“How did you—”

“I’m a forensic accountant, Ethan,” I said softly. “You forgot that part of the job description. I knew about the discrepancies four months ago. I just didn't care enough to fix them before I left.”

Dominic stepped up beside me, resting his hand lightly on the small of my back—a possessive, deliberate gesture that made Ethan flinch.

“You heard the lady,” Dominic said, his voice dropping into that cold, lethal cadence that commanded absolute silence in any room. “You’re standing on private property. And you’re trespassing on my wife’s time.”

“Avery, please,” Ethan choked out, taking a desperate half-step forward before Briggs’ hand clamped down like a vise on his shoulder. “Just one favor. Call your father. Tell him to sign the corporate guarantee.”

I turned my back on him.

“Show him out, Briggs,” I said.