The Burden of the Crown Adrian did not merely possess wealth. He was the actual, living embodiment of it.

A month passed.

Julian was back in the Vanguard Spire. The hostile takeover of the Kessler Group had gone through seamlessly. The financial press was praising him. His portfolio was up twelve percent. The perfectly manicured socialites were back to throwing themselves at him at charity galas.

He was absolutely, completely miserable.

The penthouse felt like a tomb. The Macallan tasted like ash. Every time he looked at his massive mahogany desk, all he could see was Maya’s furious, heartbroken face.

"Sir," Thorne entered the office, placing a leather-bound file on the desk. "The Queens logistics division has been fully stabilized. We recovered all embezzled funds from Sterling's offshore accounts. He is currently awaiting trial."

"And Maya?" Julian asked, his voice hollow.

Thorne hesitated. "She declined the severance package, sir. She refused the promotion we offered her to keep her quiet. She is currently working two part-time bookkeeping jobs in Brooklyn to make ends meet."

Julian closed his eyes, the deep cynicism that usually protected him now feeling like a physical weight crushing his chest. The power, the dominance, the billions—it was all completely useless if it couldn't fix this.

He had spent his whole life despising women who chased him for his money. And the one woman who hated his money—the woman who had looked past the billionaire and seen the man—he had driven away with his own lies.

"Thorne," Julian said, opening his eyes. A new, absolute resolve hardened his features. "Clear my schedule. For the next week. Cancel the Tokyo summit."