The Billionaire's Runaway Doppelgänger

Custom fireworks spelled out her name across the night sky, burning through the tens of millions of dollars he dropped in a frenzy of blinding colors.

The fantasy private island engagement party, custombuilt for his childhood sweetheart.

I stood at the edge of the deck on his threestory luxury private yacht, letting the freezing sea wind whip my hair as I watched the spectacle with dead eyes.

This fouryear secret relationship, playing the perfect hidden understudy, was a complete fucking joke.

I spent over a thousand nights debasing myself in his massive bed, all because my face was a sixtypercent match to hers, yet I could never walk into his heart.

The heavy engine hummed to life beneath my feet, vibrating through the floorboards as the yacht slowly pulled away from the glittering harbor. Game over.

Chapter 1 From the day I signed that secret lover contract with Roman, I knew he had an untouchable first love in his heart.

Everyone in his inner circle secretly mocked me as a cheap knockoff.

Whenever someone accidentally brought her up, Roman's face would turn to ice, shooting me a lethal glare. "You couldn't even compare to a single strand of her hair." That was the moment it clicked for me.

She was his untouchable sun, and I was just a fleeting shadow passing by. I was fine being a disposable outlet for his desires, as long as I didn't take the role too seriously.

The night I met Roman, I was working as a premium server at an exclusive VIP members club, desperately trying to scrape together tuition for med school.

He was the last one to arrive at the private party in the penthouse VIP lounge.

Even though he was an hour late, the moment he pushed the door open, all those arrogant Wall Street investors immediately stood up, their faces plastered with flattery.

Roman's gaze flicked to me more than once that night, his dark eyes stripping me down with a cold, calculating curiosity.

The guys at the table were sharks, and they caught the scent of blood in the water instantly.

A drunk Wall Street sleaze roughly grabbed my waist, shoving a glass of hard tequila against my lips to force it down.

Roman leaned back in the leather booth, watching with dead eyes. Choking and coughing, I gritted my teeth and fought frantically to push his filthy hands off.

Just as the old suit flared up in anger, Roman slammed his glass onto the table, his voice cutting through the ice. "Take your dirty hands off her, unless you want to see your company go bankrupt tomorrow." Later that night, Roman's blackout, bulletproof RollsRoyce was idling in the dim alley behind the club's back exit.

Outside the window was the loud, glittering expanse of the city skyline. The dim cabin lights washed over his sharp, chiseled jawline, radiating an aggressive, lethal sex appeal.

He rolled down the window, his dark eyes locking onto mine as his voice dropped into a gravelly rasp. "Get in, or are you going back inside to let that trash keep touching you?" I knew exactly what that open door meant.

The unspoken contract. The heavy weight of it all. So, I slid into the leather seat, and I never set foot in that club again.

Playing Roman's secret lover for these three solid years, I morphed from a broke student in a cheap uniform into the unspoken taboo of his inner circle.

Because no woman lasted more than three months by Roman's side, let alone a full three years.

Setting aside his dominance and ruthless control in bed, he was a flawless, coldblooded capitalist.

Like a precisionengineered moneymaking machine, he never gave me an ounce of emotional response outside of our frantic physical entanglement.

Being with him meant swallowing his chilling detachment the second he stepped out of bed. I grew up raising myself, so the quiet was nothing new to me. I was used to it.

During my first year, his inner circle loved to joke. "Anyone who stays with Roman past six months catches frostbite." Yet three years later, my feet were still firmly planted in his penthouse.

I knew exactly why I got to stay.

Not because I was irreplaceable, but because I never demanded his love, and because I had a pair of eyes that were a dead ringer for his first love.

As long as I didn't cross the line, he would generously cover my exorbitant tuition and living expenses.

My phone buzzed with a text from Carter just as I was zipping up my duffel bag, packing sweaters to take back to campus.

Roman was flying out to Europe for a few months on business, and I wanted to crash at my dorm while he was gone. [Roman sent the driver.

You at the Hills estate?] Carter was the core playboy of Roman's inner circle. We had each other's numbers for three years, but he had never reached out to me directly.

A spike of unease tightened in my chest at the abnormal behavior, but I just typed out "Okay." I dialed Roman's private number, and it went straight to voicemail; he always hated being interrupted during work.

Chapter 2 The driver arrived fast. A black Maybach pulled up. It was Carter's personal bodyguard and driver; I had seen him around a few times.

He tipped his hat with a warm smile. "Miss Sage. I am taking you up to The Summit." The Summit was a toptier Michelin private kitchen.

It sat on the highest peak of Beverly Hills, overlooking the blinding nightscape of the entire city.

I stood outside the heavily guarded gates, looking at the fleet of supercars, and gave a selfdeprecating laugh.

Cinderella never truly belonged here. "Huh." A voice broke through the wind. I turned, and the guy blinked in surprise. "Sage?

Is Roman here?" It was Pierce, one of Roman's oldest friends.

His oldmoney family monopolized the luxury hospitality industry on the West Coast, making this elite private kitchen just another one of his properties.

I frowned, pulling my coat tighter around myself. "He is not here? Carter sent the car for me. Said Roman asked him to." Pierce's smile tightened, barely reaching his eyes.

That heavy, sick knot in my stomach twisted tighter. "Carter texted you?" He gestured to the glass doors. "Well.

Let's go in." He pushed open the heavy brasshandled doors, and a wave of warm, expensivesmelling air washed over us.

I almost stepped back to tell him I was going to call Roman again, but the people standing in the center of the plush lobby had already turned around.

The weight of their stares pinned me to the spot. Standing dead center, surrounded like royalty, was a girl in a seasonal haute couture gown.

The second she turned her head, my breath hitched—she was a sixtypercent match to me. The realization hit me like a physical blow, cold and absolute. Chloe.

Roman's untouchable childhood sweetheart. I had heard the whispers that she was flying back from her stint in Paris, but I just had not expected to crash her welcomehome party.

Carter was the first to approach, trying to use his broad frame to block the sneering, mocking stares of the trustfund crowd in the room.

He flashed a forced, awkward laugh to smooth things over. "Sage! Crazy coincidence, you coming up here today? Tonight's bill is on me." Pierce and I both froze.

Pierce shot him a look like he had lost his mind. "What the hell are you talking about?

You are the one who sent the driver for her." Carter's smile cracked, and the color completely drained from his face. "Are you insane?" He ripped his phone out of his pocket, swiping wildly before his eyes widened. "Holy shit.

I did text her." The sharp clickclack of designer heels echoed across the marble floor.

The girl stepped out from behind Carter, her voice bellclear and painfully sweet. "Sage, right? I borrowed Carter's phone to send that text. It is so nice to finally meet you.

I am Chloe." The second Carter had tried to play dumb, the puzzle pieces had already snapped into place.

Hearing her admit it just confirmed the kill, but I did not flinch, and I barely even blinked. "Hi.

I am Sage." I kept my voice perfectly level. "Welcome back." A triumphant little smirk played at the corners of her glossed lips. "You know who I am?" Carter aggressively gestured between the two of us, desperate to diffuse the bomb. "I mean, looking at the two of you, it is not exactly a huge leap, is it?" Chloe dragged her eyes up and down my body like I was a cheap commodity on a clearance rack, giggling softly. "True.

I've always heard Roman kept a cheap knockoff strictly to mimic me, so I had to see it for myself.

You don't feel too inferior, do you, Sage?" The words rolled off her tongue, coated in venom and dripping with unspoken hierarchy.

Three years by Roman's side had armored me against much worse than a spoiled heiress marking her territory.

I met her stare with dead eyes, offering a calm, unbothered smile. "Of course not.

Since I'm just here to do a job for cash, I'm actually grateful to Chloe for providing this lucrative opportunity." My utter refusal to take the bait extinguished the sadistic spark in eyes.

Chloe was clearly disappointed I was not going to give her the catfight she craved.

She spun around, tossing her perfect hair over her shoulder as she addressed her audience. "Alright guys, let's head to the private dining room.

I am starving." Carter fell into step beside her, hissing something under his breath in reprimand. I did not bother listening.

Chapter 3 Pierce leaned in close, his voice dropping into a warning. "She grew up with us in the same elite private academies.

Nobody in this circle touches her." "Learn your place and don't throw a tantrum. I'll have security escort you out the back door right now." I gave a stiff nod.

But the second I slid into a velvet chair, my phone vibrated, and Roman's name flashed on the screen. Pierce caught sight of the caller ID.

He shot me a relieved halfsmile. "Go take that out in the hall.

Tell Roman to come get you." I grabbed my phone and started to stand, but Chloe's sharp voice cut across the room. "Leaving already? No way. I call the shots tonight.

You're staying right here." She delivered the demand with a perfectly practiced, spoiledprincess pout, using the kind of weaponized cuteness that made it impossible for the guys to tell her no.

Pierce stepped in. "Chill out, princess. She’s just taking a call. She'll be right back." He gave my shoulder a subtle nudge toward the double doors, and I slipped out of the room.

Right before the heavy mahogany door clicked shut, I caught Chloe's eyes. The sweet, innocent act had completely vanished, replaced by a cold, calculating glare.

I answered the call.

Roman's voice over the line was rigid, dripping with undeniable control. "Where are you right now?" "At The Summit." "Entertaining friends?" Carter had asked the exact same ridiculous question.

What kind of delusional tax bracket did they think I belonged to? Entertaining friends here? A single plate of steamed organic kale cost two hundred bucks. "No.

I ended up at the wrong address." "Have you lost your mind? Who gave you permission to run off there? Go find Pierce right now and have his security detail escort you back.

I'll wait for you at the Beverly Hills penthouse." I hung up and ducked into the restroom to splash cold water on my wrists.

The second I stepped back out into the hallway, my phone buzzed again.

Roman. "You saw Chloe." His voice was entirely flat, and I could perfectly picture his stony, unreadable expression. "Yeah.

She used Carter's phone to text me." "Why didn't you say that a minute ago? Stay put.

I am coming to get you." The sickening difference in treatment struck me like a brutal slap to the face. A hollow, freezing sensation settled in my chest.

I leaned heavily against the secondfloor glass balcony, staring blankly down at the city traffic.

I didn't even hear Chloe approach until she was standing right beside me. "Gorgeous view, isn't it?" She leaned against the glass, perfectly poised. "Four years in Paris, and I missed everything about this city every single second." She paused, turning her head to give me a knowing smile. "Especially the people." She tilted her head, tossing out the bait. "Aren't you going to ask who I am?" I didn't look at her.

I simply pointed down at the valet stand on the ground floor.

A familiar blackout RollsRoyce had just pulled up, and a tall figure stepped out. "He's here." "I didn't tell him I was coming back today," Chloe murmured, her eyes fixed on Roman's figure below. "I forbade the guys from telling him, too." "I lured you here tonight as a test.

So… take a guess, Sage. Did he rush over here for you? Or for me?" I kept my mouth shut. She didn't actually want an answer anyway.

Right before she turned to walk toward the grand staircase, she leaned in, her voice dripping with absolute, ruthless confidence. "After tonight, he will only ever come for me." I watched from above as she reached the bottom of the stairs, and Roman's deep voice carried up to the balcony. "Why didn't you tell me you were back?" "I didn't have to," she teased, stepping into his space. "You still showed up." It was like Roman had eyes in the back of his head.

He didn't even look up at the second floor, but his voice cracked like a whip. "Come down." I swallowed the bitter ash in my throat and walked down the stairs.

A microscopic crack formed in Chloe's perfect smile, but she quickly masked it. "You didn't even bring me a welcomehome gift.

The least you can do is stay for dinner." Roman looked down at her.

A low, humorless chuckle escaped his chest. "What is this, an ambush?" Pierce pushed through the lobby doors just in time to catch the comment. "An ambush?

Hell no, man!" "Come on, get in here.

The guests of honor are standing in the freezing lobby while everyone else is waiting inside!" Chapter 4 The next morning, a velvet jewelry box sat on the sleek kitchen island.

When Roman's assistant brought in his coffee and the morning briefings, Roman didn't even look up from his tablet. "Have this delivered to the Everbright Holdings building." That was all it took.

The puzzle pieces clicked together instantly. It was the welcomehome gift Chloe had casually demanded last night. Maybe my gaze lingered on the velvet box a second too long.

Roman caught it, his dark eyes flicking up. "You like it?" I shook my head.

I didn't even know what was inside, how could I like it? "Just a pink diamond," he said dismissively, his attention already dropping back to his screen. "If you like that kind of thing, I have a bigger one." I shook my head. "I don't need something so uselessly flashy.

I need to pay next semester's med school tuition." A dark, lethal chuckle vibrated in his chest. "Got it.

I'll bring you a limitless black card tomorrow." He said tomorrow, but a heavy, matteblack box was sitting on the island that very night.

I carefully picked up the limitless black card inside.

I turned it over in my hands, letting the reality of its limitless power sink in before setting it down with a satisfied exhale.

I didn't realize Roman was leaning against the marble archway of the kitchen, a glass of water in his hand, watching the whole thing. "Look at you, acting like a little gold digger," he drawled, his tone laced with lazy amusement. "Do I starve you or something?" Roman was ruthless in the boardroom, but he was absurdly generous with me.

During the three years I spent by his side, every piece of clothing, every meal, and every car ride was strictly toptier. "Pick it up," he ordered softly, setting his glass down. "I had a new biometric safe installed under your nightstand today.

Keep your valuables in there." "Once it's full, you can drag it all back to your little apartment." Roman had bought me a luxury condo near campus a year ago.

I had barely slept there twice, but the place was already packed to the ceiling. It was entirely filled with the random, wildly expensive gifts he bought me on a whim.

Whenever a designer bag or limitededition watch lost its novelty, Roman forbade me from wearing it again.

I couldn't bring myself to throw out millions of dollars worth of stuff, so I hoarded it all in the condo.

He caught me organizing it once. "What are you, a squirrel?" he had mocked, leaning in the doorway. "Hoarding nuts for the winter?" Eventually, whenever he grew bored of limitededition designer bags and haute couture jewelry, he would toss them at me like trash. "If you like hoarding garbage, drag it back to your apartment." He was a walking contradiction.

He constantly mocked my cheap habits, but in those quiet, offguard moments, he carved out this massive, undeniable space for me. It was a dangerous illusion.

It made me feel like, if I just reached out a little further, I might actually touch the real him.

Then reality snapped back. "What's with the suitcase on the floor?" His voice dropped an octave, the playful warmth instantly draining out of it.

Three years had taught me exactly how to read the subtle shifts in his tone. That low, dangerous rasp meant the ice was cracking.

I hadn't found the right moment to tell him I was moving back to the dorms while he was away.

Roman was deeply territorial; he hated when I slipped out of his line of sight, and he despised finding out about my plans after the fact.

My brain scrambled for a solid excuse. "Don't even try to bullshit me," he warned, his eyes narrowing as he stepped closer. "I wouldn't dare," I murmured, forcing my posture to relax. "You're flying to Europe for three months.

Staying in this massive penthouse alone is… inconvenient." "Having the driver shuttle me back and forth to campus every day is too much.

It's just easier to crash at the dorms." His jaw remained clenched, a sharp muscle ticking near his ear. The excuse wasn't cutting it.

I stepped closer, softening my voice. "Plus… I'm used to you being here.

If I have to be alone for that long, a smaller space just makes it a little easier to breathe." He loved it when I yielded. He loved the soft, needy act.

The tension bleeding out of his broad shoulders proved it. He watched me zip up the duffel bag, his dark eyes tracking my movements. "If you miss me, call me.

If there's an emergency, call Pierce. He's more reliable than Carter. He can handle whatever you need." A bitter, invisible smile tugged at my throat.

I was a broke college student surviving on financial aid. What kind of catastrophic 'emergencies' did he think I got into? But I nodded obediently. "Okay.

I know." "Good girl," he murmured, his hand sliding to the back of my neck. He loved the soft act, and he loved my total obedience.

He was painfully gentle with me that night, and the sheer exhaustion that followed pulled me down into a deep, dreamless sleep.

Chapter 5 When I dragged myself out of bed the next morning, he was already gone. When I applied to med school, I knew it wasn't going to be a walk in the park.

But being a secondyear at med school was a different breed of brutal. During my undergrad years, I could still carve out time to play Roman's game.

But this was year four of my contract with him, and year six of my higher education.

I was drowning in endless clinical rotations, brutal board prep, and backtoback practical exams. The sheer weight of the workload was heavier than my previous five years combined.

So, with Roman flying across the Atlantic, I finally let out a massive, unfiltered exhale. I could actually breathe. I was running on caffeine and pure adrenaline every single day.

By the time Roman's name flashed across my phone screen for our first call, I realized he had already been gone for an entire week. "I let you move back to the dorms so you'd be comfortable," his deep voice bit through the speaker, "not so you could drop off the face of the earth." I pinched the bridge of my nose, dropping my voice to an apologetic murmur. "I'm sorry.

I'm just buried." "The clinical rotations are ruthless right now.

If I bomb these practicals, I have to repeat the entire block." A low, rough exhale vibrated through the receiver. "Call me every day from now on.

Or I'm having the driver pack your shit and bring you back to the penthouse." "Okay.

Got it." My instant submission smoothed his ruffled feathers, and his tone softened a fraction. "You still need to eat, Sage. Don't work yourself to death.

Do you want the estate chef to prep your meals and send them over?" "No, it's fine.

The dining hall food here is actually decent." "Right," he scoffed. "Every weekend, I'll have Pierce send over a private catering drop from The Summit.

Eat some actual food for once." I had already told him no once. Pushing back again would just piss him off. "Okay." I hung up and blindly opened Instagram.

A new follow request was sitting at the top of my notifications. Chloe. I tapped on her profile.

Her avatar was a flawless, candid shot of her laughing on a cobblestone street, perfectly bathed in goldenhour sunlight. She looked effortlessly radiant and expensive.

I stared down at my own profile picture—a pixelated cartoon lemon. A sharp, pathetic ache throbbed behind my ribs.

The second I accepted the request, a cute waving GIF popped into my DMs, followed immediately by a dropped location pin. She was in London.

The exact city Roman was in for his business trip. She didn't add any petty little captions.

The sheer arrogance of the dropped pin was suffocating enough, serving as a highstatus flex. I had to hand it to her. She and Roman were cut from the exact same cloth.

She just had to casually mark her territory, entirely confident that I’d take the hint and quietly bow out.

What she didn't understand was that in the twisted dynamic between Roman and me, I was never the one pulling the strings. The only person she actually needed to win over was him.

From that day on, my DMs became a live feed of her life with Roman. When they met up. When they grabbed coffee. When they went shopping in Mayfair.

I was practically getting realtime updates. Honestly, it felt like I had hired a private investigator to stalk my own sugar daddy.

It got so bad that one night, when Roman called me from his hotel and mentioned he was going out for a dryaged ribeye, I blurted out, "Didn't you just have steak for lunch?" The line went dead quiet. "How the hell do you know that?" I chewed on the inside of my cheek, my brain scrambling. "I saw it on Chloe's IG story." Thank God she was broadcasting everything publicly, too.

Carter was practically camping in her comment section, hyping her up and wishing her a "victorious return." Roman rarely explained himself, but he must have been in a decent mood. "She flew out here to secure a vintage Birkin.

She’s heading back to New York in two days." He wasn't lying. Two days later, she was back. On the third day, a sleek black town car rolled up to the campus gates.

Chloe stepped out, armed with a bombshell piece of news.

Chapter 6 Chloe marched over in her limitededition redsoled heels, aggressively blocking my locker, and tossed out a cold sneer. "Next month, Roman and I are getting engaged.

We're holding it on his private island." My fingers froze over my keyboard. I slowly lifted my head to meet her gaze.

She crossed her arms, a mocking smirk playing on her glossed lips. "Wow. I actually thought you didn't care." "You play the indifferent, cool girl so well in front of him.

But I guess even you crack when it counts." It was hard to physically process the words. At first, a heavy, suffocating numbness crushed my chest, stealing the air from my lungs.

The executioner’s axe had finally dropped. It was always going to happen, and it was just a matter of when. I calmly closed my laptop. "Then congratulations, Chloe.

I hope you get everything you want." She glared at me, the fake sweetness dissolving into naked disdain. "Still playing the tough girl? Don't be naive.

I flew back specifically to pick out an engagement ring." "The second we slide that tencarat pink diamond on my finger, I'm heading back to Europe to finish my aristocratic etiquette courses.

Why do you think Roman is suddenly expanding his European portfolio?

He's moving his entire base of operations over there for the next three years just to be with me." "Call him and ask if you don't believe me.

You two talk on the phone every day, don't you?" Her words spilled out fast, her pitch rising with that undeniable, arrogant edge. The condescension was built right into her DNA.

I had nothing to ask him, and it wasn't about believing her or not. My opinion in this twisted dynamic had absolutely zero value, and my only job was to accept the reality. "Hello?

Why aren't you saying anything?" Chloe snapped. "Are you this pathetic and quiet around Roman, or do you just think you're too good to talk to me?" I methodically stacked my heavy medical textbooks, shoved them into my bag, and walked straight toward her.

I stopped inches from her designer heels, keeping my expression completely dead. "Because I don't have the energy for small talk, and I didn't want to say anything that would ruin your perfect mood." "You?

Bad at small talk?" She scoffed. "Please." "I know for a fact Roman hasn't let another woman near him for three years.

If you're so boring, how exactly have you kept him wrapped around your little finger?" I stared dead into her eyes.

I let the silence stretch until she shifted uncomfortably, her bravado slipping for a fraction of a second. "Probably because of this face." The tension instantly snapped, and a genuinely naive, spoiled smile lit up her features. "Roman has always told me I’m stunning." Yeah.

He had told me the exact same thing. Once, I had asked him why he chose me out of all the girls desperate for his attention.

He said it was because I was beautiful, blindingly beautiful.

Looking at the girl standing in front of me—the girl whose face was a sixtypercent match to mine—I finally understood exactly what blindingly beautiful actually meant. "I have a lab rotation, Chloe.

Make yourself at home." I went to brush past her, but she reached out and grabbed the strap of my massive backpack, instantly dropping her hand like it burned her. "Jesus, this weighs a ton!

I heard med school is a nightmare." "Since you're sleeping with Roman, why don't you just ask him for something easy?

Having him fund a private clinic or a biotech startup for you is literally pocket change." The longer I stood in her orbit, the more I realized she and Roman were the exact same breed.

They even spoke with the same careless, oldmoney drawl. Right before finals week last semester, I had locked myself in the penthouse library, running on pure caffeine.

I hadn't given Roman the time of day for three straight days. Pissed off, he had cornered me at my desk. "There's zero point in you killing yourself over these textbooks.

If you really want to play doctor, I'll just buy you a private practice or a pharma lab." He tossed it out there with the same casual ease as buying a cup of coffee. "I prefer to actually own the things I work for," I told Chloe, adjusting the heavy strap on my shoulder. "It makes me feel secure." Chloe tilted her head, genuinely confused by my poverty mindset. "But if he buys the company for you, it's yours.

What, is he going to ask for it back?" Chapter 7 I tapped my temple with a single finger and walked away. We were wired completely differently.

There was zero point in trying to find common ground.

I had a lecture to catch, and I wasn't wasting another second on her. "Are you calling me stupid?" her voice shrilled behind me.

Roman ended up staying in Europe for four solid months, a full month longer than originally planned.

He didn't fly back once during that time, though the FaceTime calls came in like clockwork every single day.

The night before his flight, he called to tell me his jet was landing tomorrow afternoon.

I don't know what wire crossed in my brain, but I blurted out, "Already?" Through the screen, the relaxed lines of his face instantly hardened.

His voice dropped to a dangerous, gravelly register. "Already? Sounds like you've been having a little too much fun without me.

Wait right there." He ignored all my calls the next day. I didn't even get a chance to do damage control, and I spent the entire day with my stomach tied in knots.

It wasn't until I walked out of the campus gates and saw his blackout RollsRoyce idling at the curb that the final nail hit the coffin.

He was radiating pure hostility when I got in, but seeing the sheer panic on my face actually smoothed out his rough edges.

His long fingers gripped my chin, forcing my head up, his tone dripping with dangerous, predatory intent. "You look sick. Thinking about someone else?

Hm?" I forced myself to meet his stare, feigning submission. "I was thinking about you. I missed you so much I was losing my mind." A dark flare ignited in his eyes. "Good.

Tonight, I'll make you prove to me in bed exactly how much you missed me." Roman didn't even let me order dinner. He just dragged me straight to the penthouse.

In that department, he was always the one in absolute control, but that night, he pushed me to take the lead, punishing me until I was entirely wrecked.

It wasn't until way past midnight that he finally showed some mercy, pulling me out of the tangled sheets. "Want some latenight food?" I wanted to strangle him.

What kind of twisted torture was this? Draining every ounce of my energy and starving me? I glared at him so hard he actually let out a low, rough laugh. "Alright. Get up.

I'll take you out for breakfast." "It's two in the morning. It's latenight bites, not breakfast," I corrected stubbornly.

He leaned over, caging me in against the mattress. "I don't mind staying here until actual breakfast time." I scrambled up instantly, practically diving into the closet for a hoodie. "I'm just worried you're starving." At 2 AM, the exclusive underground jazz club was still swimming in excess.

An expensive bottle of Ace of Spades popped, the liquor catching the sultry, neon glow of the room. I peered at Roman through the dim light.

The harsh lights cast sharp shadows across his face, making his expression unreadable. Someone walked past our booth, paused, and immediately doubled back. "Roman?

What the hell are you doing out here? Why didn't you ask for the private room?" It was Pierce. He owned this spot, too.

Moments like this really hammered home how ridiculously small the city felt, especially when you existed in this specific, ultrarich tax bracket.

The circle was suffocatingly tight. Roman was actually in a decent mood.

He leaned back, spinning a silver knife between his fingers. "Paying your ridiculous VIP room fee just for a latenight steak seemed like a ripoff." Pierce let out a curse. "When did you fly back?

Carter swore he was going to fly out to Europe and drag your ass back if you delayed another week. Why the hell were you gone so long?" "Ran into a few complications.

The acquisition wasn't as smooth as we projected, so it took some extra time." While the two of them talked business, I absolutely demolished the massive plate of food in front of me.

Chapter 8 Roman split his attention flawlessly.

Even while talking business with Pierce, he didn't miss the opportunity to mock me. "The little squirrel came out of hibernation to hoard?

How many days is this meal supposed to last you?" "Are you the only living person at this table? Am I just supposed to starve?" I shot back.

He leaned in, his voice dropping into a low, mocking drawl. "Who was just sweettalking me in the car? Swearing I was her absolute priority?

So the master of the house just starves?" Pierce was visibly biting the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing.

Finally losing the battle, he flagged down a waiter. "Bring another round of every appetizer to this table." Roman shot him a dark look. "Are you just trying to pump up your nightly sales numbers?" Pierce threw his hands up in surrender. "I swear to God, Roman.

This one is on the house. Just eat. I have to go check on the other properties." The second he was out of earshot, my curiosity took over. "He actually does floor checks?

With how many spots his family owns, shouldn't he be dead from exhaustion?" Roman took a slow sip of his water. "He's one of four brothers.

If he doesn't put in the hours and protect his territory, there's a line of guys waiting to take his place." That was the first time Roman had ever voluntarily offered up information about his inner circle.

In just a few sentences, he painted the brutal, bloodless warzone of oldmoney succession. Pierce's family had four sons. Pierce was the eldest, the legitimate heir.

The other three were bastards. His mother died young, and barely six months later, his father moved the mistress and her three kids directly into the family home.

Right after losing his mother, Pierce lost his father and his home. "But he still controls the main estate," Roman added effortlessly. "His old man and the stepmonster live out in the Hamptons with the other three." The main estate was the ultimate symbol of hierarchy.

It meant that, at least for now, Pierce was winning the war for the empire. "Carter's situation is much simpler. Neither of his parents have siblings.

Both massive family fortunes are funneling directly into him as the sole heir.

That's exactly why he grew up into the careless, reckless idiot he is today." Carter's father controlled a massive commercial real estate empire, and his mother was a global shipping magnate.

Honestly, raising a careless idiot instead of a fullblown sociopath was probably a parenting victory for them.

Roman flicked his dark eyes toward me, catching my intense focus. "Are you only interested in them?" I didn't miss a beat. "Obviously, I'm way more interested in you." A low, rough laugh vibrated in his chest.

A faint trace of unmistakable satisfaction slipped through his ironclad composure.

Even a man sitting at the absolute top of the food chain wasn't immune to a perfectly timed ego stroke. I had already memorized the dirty scandals of his empire from the tabloids.

His parents used to be the hottest Alist stars in Hollywood, raking in billions off blockbuster hits before pivoting to Wall Street, where they built a monolithic entertainment and capital empire.

Then, they completely destroyed each other with mutual affairs. "My father died in a car crash," Roman stated.

His tone was as casual as if he were reading a grocery list. "Some Clist actress in the passenger seat was pregnant.

She thought she was going to secure the bag with a baby." "Instead, they both died on impact.

My mother eventually gave me a halfbrother and a halfsister, but they live permanently in Switzerland." So the tabloids were actually spoton.

There was barely any deviation from the public narrative. It was incredibly rare for Roman to voluntarily talk this much.

I desperately wanted to ask about Chloe, to probe the bleeding edge of the engagement rumors, but I wasn't stupid enough to ruin his rare good mood. I kept my mouth shut.

But the universe had a sick sense of humor. Right on cue, Chloe and her entourage pushed through the heavy brass doors.

Chapter 9 If her shock didn't look so genuine, I would have sworn she planted an AirTag on Roman.

She was the ultimate socialite, constantly surrounded by a massive entourage wherever she went, and her stamina was insane.

Eight days out of ten, my Instagram feed was flooded with her VIP booth stories from every exclusive VIP club in the city. Looking at her, the contrast was almost comical.

She was living in a nonstop neon fantasy, while I was drowning in a sterile, fluorescentlit medical nightmare. The second her eyes landed on Roman, they physically lit up.

She looked absolutely radiant, weaponizing that adorable innocence effortlessly. "Roman?

What are you doing here?" She pouted perfectly. "I thought you weren't flying back until next week." "Wrapped the acquisition early.

Flew back." "Why didn't you tell me?" she whined, stepping closer. "I was literally about to book a flight to see you, but Carter swore you were too busy." Carter, who had been talking to a promoter by the entrance, noticed her entourage bottlenecking the dining room and finally strolled over.

The second he saw Roman, he threw his hands up. "Pierce just told me you were back, and I called bullshit." He pointed a thumb at Chloe. "Since you're here, take your kid back.

I've been babysitting her all week and she's driving me out of my fucking mind." He didn't even notice me sitting across the booth until after the words left his mouth.

For a fraction of a second, his expression tightened into something painfully awkward. But he recovered instantly, flashing a frictionless smile. "Sage. Didn't see you there.

How's the food? This is another one of Pierce's new spots. I'll have him drop a VIP black card for you." Chloe's massive entourage was practically blocking the entire aisle.

Someone in the back chimed in, "Since we all ran into each other, why don't we just grab a private room together?" I highly doubted this "random runin" was actually random.

Surprisingly, Roman seemed to feel the exact same way. "I bump into you people three times a week just walking down Fifth Avenue," Roman drawled coldly, completely ignoring the invitation. "Have fun.

We're out." He didn't even look at me. He just snapped out my name. "Sage." I instantly stood up, grabbed my coat, and followed him out.

As I pushed through the heavy brass doors, I glanced back over my shoulder. Chloe was standing frozen by the VIP corridor.

Her eyes locked onto mine, brimming with a pathetic, venomous heartbreak. Roman didn't see a damn thing. Med school was already a meat grinder, but finals month was absolute hell.

Even though commuting from the penthouse estate was a massive hassle, the silence there was absolute.

Roman was barely ever home, which left me perfectly alone to drown in my textbooks.

They called it "finals week," but it was an entire month of relentless exams and clinical evaluations.

By the time the dust finally settled and I could breathe, the city was already decked out for the holidays. The holiday season was exactly when Roman's schedule went nuclear.

He had endless corporate galas, board dinners, and charity auctions to attend. He strode into the penthouse one evening to change into a custom tuxedo.

Catching me curled up on the sofa with a massive pharmacology textbook, he stopped. "Still reading?

Are you trying to fry your brain completely?" I was right in the middle of memorizing a critical drug interaction, so I just gave a vague hum of agreement, not looking up.

My lack of attention instantly pissed him off. "Go change," he ordered, his voice brooking no argument. "I'm taking you out." I begrudgingly dragged myself into his RollsRoyce.

It wasn't until the driver pulled up to the Plaza Hotel that I realized where we were. It was the annual corporate gala for Pierce Holdings.

Pierce Holdings was the monolithic crown jewel of Roman's empire.

There was a running joke in the financial district: if you swiped your credit card anywhere in the city, Roman Pierce got a cut.

I stayed glued to the leather seat, staring at Roman, who was holding the door open for me. "I don't think it's a good idea for me to go in there.

Your entire board of directors and every major partner will be watching." His dark eyes narrowed, utterly devoid of patience. "And you think it's a good idea to leave me standing out in the freezing wind holding this door for you?" When I still hesitated, his voice cracked like a whip. "Get out." Chapter 10 The second I stepped out of the RollsRoyce, we ran right into Roman's mother.

The legendary Hollywood Alister who spent most of her time exiled in Europe. Time had absolutely refused to touch her.

She was still blindingly glamorous, standing on the grand marble steps of the Plaza with a perfect, practiced smile directed right at us.

I stepped up, but before I could even get a word of greeting out, she beat me to it