The sun was beginning its slow, golden descent over the sweeping valleys of the Loire region, casting long, dramatic shadows across the ancient stone façade of the Château de Lumière.

Sophia walked through the front doors of Victor’s Roman corporate headquarters twenty-four hours later. She was immediately surrounded by armed security, but she held her hands up in surrender.

Victor was waiting for her in his glass-walled office, overlooking the Colosseum. He looked exhausted, his tie loosened, a glass of scotch in his hand. The media was having a frenzy over the "runaway bride," and OmniCorp’s stock was plummeting.

When Sophia walked in, Victor’s eyes narrowed with extreme suspicion.

"You came back," Victor said coldly. "Where is your brother?"

"He abandoned me," Sophia lied flawlessly, forcing tears to well in her eyes. She let her voice tremble. "We ran out of money in Venice. He told me I was dead weight and left me at a train station. You were right, Victor. He’s crazy."

Victor studied her face, searching for deception. But Sophia was a daughter of the aristocracy; she had been trained to mask her emotions since childhood. She looked utterly defeated.

"I have nothing left, Victor," Sophia whispered, letting a tear fall. "My family is gone. The villa is in your name. Please... if I come back, if I marry you... will you forgive me?"

Victor’s massive ego devoured the lie. The idea of the haughty, royal Sophia utterly broken and submitting to him was too intoxicating to resist. He walked over, trailing his knuckles down her cheek.

"You made a mistake, Sophia. But I am a generous man," Victor murmured, pulling her into a possessive kiss. It took every ounce of Sophia’s willpower not to recoil from his touch. "The wedding is rescheduled for tomorrow night at my Geneva compound. No guests. Just the press to confirm the merger."