Chapter 3

Three years had passed. On this night in Eden Bay, a private yacht glittered like a stolen star, hosting a party that reeked of indulgence.

I stood on the deck in a gown sculpted by Herpen Couture, liquid metal frozen mid-flow, blooming around my body like silver fire.

My name now was Iris. I was a silent partner at a top-tier venture capital firm. And tonight, all of it revolved around me.

The hosts came from Harbor District dynasty money. They needed our backing to secure a prime slice of Newlands real estate, the same plot Alexander's New Grant Group was clawing for.

I rested against the rail, a glass of champagne dangling from my fingers, letting the wind lift my hair.

"That dress is dangerous." The voice that slid up behind me was low, velvet, laced with something dark. "Trying to steal souls tonight?"

I didn't turn. There was only one man in the world who could speak to me like that, half caress, half threat. Nathan Blackwood.

I faced him slowly. His dark gray suit was cut to perfection. His gold-rimmed glasses caught the yacht's lights. Behind them, those eyes hadn't changed in three years, sharp enough to slice straight through bone.

On paper, he was my boss. In reality, he was my partner in revenge. A man a hundred times more lethal than Alexander could ever dream of being.

"Mr. Blackwood." I swirled my champagne, watching the bubbles catch gold under the deck lights. "This could remind someone that once he loses something, it never comes back."

Nathan let out a low chuckle and stepped closer, slipping his arm around my waist from behind as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

The heat of his hand burned through the delicate fabric, searing my skin.

I went rigid.

"Don't move." His lips brushed my ear, warm breath sending electricity down my spine. "Your old friend arrived."

I followed his gaze. Alexander stepped onto the yacht with Claire on his arm, a small entourage trailing behind like ducklings.

He looked different now, more solid, more sure of himself. Three years had carved authority into his features.

Claire floated beside him in flowing white, one hand resting on her softly rounded belly. She looked serene and happy. She was pregnant again.

Without realizing it, my nails pressed into my palm. Nathan's arm around my waist tightened.

"Want me to have security clear the deck so you can walk over and slap him?" Nathan teased, a mischievous glint in his voice.

"Slapping him's too cheap." I swallowed the storm rising in my chest and painted on my best smile. "I want to hit him where it actually hurts."

Alexander's eyes found me immediately. Or more precisely, they found Nathan's hand wrapped possessively around my waist.

His jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. But I caught it.

Everyone here knew Nathan. He was the founder of Phoenix Capital, Wall Street's coldest predator, and recently shifted his focus back home.

He was known for being ruthless, reclusive, and never photographed with anyone, especially not a woman.

Alexander approached, glass in hand, Claire glued to his side as if she might dissolve without him. When she spotted Nathan's arm around me, jealousy flickered in her eyes.

"Mr. Blackwood." Alexander extended his hand first, but his gaze slid over me. "I've heard your name many times."

For one split second, I watched his eyes widen.

I knew my face had been subtly reshaped. It was seventy percent different from three years ago. But that remaining thirty percent was enough to drop a stone into still water.

"Mr. Grant." Nathan shook his hand with that effortless command he carried everywhere. "This is my partner, Iris."

"Iris, nice to meet you," Alexander replied, studying me intently, as if searching for something beneath the surface.

"Mr. Grant." I raised my glass and spoke in exactly the tone he remembered.

His hand visibly trembled.

Claire noticed immediately. She pressed closer to Alexander's arm, her voice soft and careful. "Alexander. This lady reminds me so much of..."

She trailed off. She didn't need to finish.

I smiled. "Oh? Remind you of who, Mr. Grant?"

Claire's face drained. She shook her head quickly, flustered. "No, I thought you looked familiar—"

"Really?" I stepped closer to her, close enough that only the three of us could hear. "Funny. I can't help feeling like I knew you, as if we were sworn enemies."

Claire's face went white as a sheet.