Someone asked, with a deliberate edge in their voice, "Kingston, you used to say Ms. Sullivan was the most beautiful woman in this city, and you almost disowned your own father over her. Are you really moving on so quickly?"

Kingston Stone swirled the amber liquid in his glass, a thin, cold smile curving his lips. "Even the most beautiful scenery gets old. I’ve had my fill. Looking at her now just feels like a chore."

Raven Sullivan, currently on her knees helping a client try on a pair of designer pumps, felt the rumors drift toward her like a poisoned mist. Her fingers faltered, and though the corners of her eyes burned, she kept her expression composed, her smile professionally intact.

The client glanced around to ensure they were alone, then leaned in, her voice dropping to a whisper. "Detective Sullivan, you’ve been undercover with Kingston for two years now and haven't dug up a single thing. Now that he’s found someone else, why not just pull out?"

Raven’s mind flickered to a photo she’d seen in the tabloids. Kingston, usually a man of cold, high-society refinement, had been spotted in a crowded, noisy roadside diner with a girl. He had leaned in to shield her from the crush of the crowd, his eyes brimming with a tenderness he’d never even shown his social peers.

The moisture in Raven’s eyes receded, replaced by a gaze as cold and sharp as a blade. "Not yet. His distraction might be the opening I need."

Before she could finish, a synchronized chorus rang out from the entrance: "Mr. Stone!"

The tycoon had arrived. Kingston visited the shop every month, often clearing out half the inventory just to pad Raven’s commission records. But this time, everything was different.

He had brought a girl with him. She was dressed simply, bordering on shabby, but her youthful, vibrant beauty made up for it. She had bright, doe-like eyes, clear and stubborn.

The moment they walked in, the girl wasn't exactly rolling out the red carpet for him. "I’m your intern, not your slave! Who gave you the right to restrict my freedom?!"

If anyone else had dared speak to Kingston in that tone, they’d likely have been tossed out of the city by sundown. But with this girl, Kingston didn't show a flicker of irritation. Instead, he spoke with gentle patience. "I just want to get you a new outfit. You aren't dressed appropriately for the party tonight."

The girl stomped her foot, her brows arched in fury. "What’s wrong with what I’m wearing? I bought this with money I earned myself! If your friends are going to look down on me, then I’m not going to that party!"

"Entertaining business contacts is part of an assistant's job. You can't refuse." He raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his handsome face, a look that had ruined many lives.

The girl’s face flushed a deep, frantic red; she was clearly out of excuses.

Watching their interaction, which felt like something straight out of a cheesy romance drama, Raven was pulled back to two years ago. That was when Kingston had first walked into this store and fallen for her at first sight. He’d pursued her like a man possessed, showing up every day to "check in" as if the shop were his own office. He’d even moved into the apartment next door, desperate for a glimpse of her.

She had fought every instinct to let her guard down. But when clients were cruel, he stood up for her. When coworkers framed her, he backed her without hesitation. When she was followed by a predator in the dead of night, he’d taken a brick to the head to protect her, needing three stitches to close the gash...

Kingston’s love felt all-consuming, regardless of who it was directed at.

She hadn't been immune to it. But her identity as an undercover cop was a wall she couldn't break. Selling luxury goods was just a ruse to get close to Hector Barnes and investigate a string of cold-blooded homicides. Kingston’s sudden, chaotic entry into her life had shattered her plans.

She had rejected him, treated him with ice, and thrown words at him that were far crueler than anything the girl today could dream of, yet he hadn't backed down. When she finally started to gain traction with Hector Barnes, Kingston, that reckless prince of chaos, had stormed in and ruined the entire setup.

She had planned to retreat, but her superiors insisted she lean into the chaos and use Kingston to infiltrate Hector’s inner circle. So, they became a couple. It was a mix of genuine affection and soul-crushing anxiety.

Two years had passed since then. Because of her past connection to Hector, Kingston had developed a visceral hatred for him and had practically severed all ties. Hector, meanwhile, was terrified of Kingston and hadn't dared touch her since. Her mission had stalled completely.

And now, Kingston had found a new plaything.

"You."

Kingston’s voice cut through her thoughts. He pointed at her, his tone as flat as if he were addressing a stranger. "Come over here and pick out an evening gown for Ms. Hayes."

Raven paused for a heartbeat, realizing he was addressing her. She looked up, meeting his eyes. They lacked any of the warmth she’d grown used to; they were filled with nothing but cold detachment and amusement. He looked exactly like the playboy he’d been two years ago, as if the life they had built together never existed.

Raven’s heart shriveled, as if gripped by an invisible hand and twisted into a knot. But she quickly conjured a smile and walked over.

Ms. Hayes was already rifling through the racks. As she turned away, Kingston reached out and grabbed Raven, his voice dropping to a whisper only she could hear: "If Hayes finds out about our history, you won't last a week in this city."

Raven nodded, her smile never flickering. She walked toward Alison Hayes and began to speak, her voice soft and professional, detailing the fabric and the cut of the gowns.

Her colleagues cast sympathetic glances her way, but Raven’s heart was already numb. They all thought Kingston had only begun to distance himself when this girl arrived. That wasn't true.

About two months ago, he’d changed. He’d ditched the "devoted partner" act, returning to the nightlife, tangled up with models and starlets. Raven had grown used to him staying out all night and coming home the next morning smelling of booze and perfume. But Alison Hayes was the first girl he’d actually brought to her face.

It was obvious that Alison wasn't used to this world; she was clumsy with the service. When Raven stepped behind her to help tie the ribbons of a gown, Alison flinched. "No, no, I've got it!"

She struggled, her fingers fumbling with the slick, satin ribbons.

Watching the girl’s awkwardness, Kingston suddenly let out a soft laugh. He stepped forward, taking the ribbon from her, his fingers working with practiced ease to tie a perfect, delicate bow. He leaned in, resting his chin on Alison’s shoulder, his eyes swimming with a tenderness that could drown a person. "You look beautiful."

Alison blushed furiously, her fingers twisting nervously.

Kingston savored the sight of her flushed cheeks, then turned his head to press a light, possessive kiss against her temple.

Raven stood to the side, frozen like a statue, ready to turn to dust and blow away. She realized then that Kingston was truly, completely over her. She realized that love, apparently, had an expiration date. No one stays obsessed forever. But being lifted to the heavens by a man like Kingston, only to be dropped from such a height, was agony.

She dug her nails into her palms, refusing to let the tears fall. *You are a cop,* she told herself. *Your duty is to protect this city, not to weep over a broken heart.*

None of the three noticed the paparazzi in the shadows, snapping photos.

The next day, the headlines were everywhere: *Stone Heir Finds New Flame, While Beauty is Left in the Shadows.*

Before her shift ended, Raven received a frantic call from Kingston’s mother. "Raven, you have to come to the house! If you don't, his father is going to beat him to death!"

Raven rushed to the Stone residence. She found Kingston kneeling at the gate, his shirt shredded by a whip, his back a map of raw, pulsing welts. Donald Stone stood nearby, breathing heavily, gripping a barbed military-grade lash.

"You cut ties with that trash right now and make things right with Raven! Or I will kill you myself!"

His mother was sobbing, pleading, "Kingston, Raven carried your child. She was put through hell because of you—the whole city knows she belongs to you. You can't just discard her like this..."

Kingston held his head high, refusing to break. He spat out at his father, "Then kill me. Even if I'm dead, my soul is going to be with Alison."

Raven looked at his rigid, wounded back. A year ago, he had fought his father just like this—for her. He’d gone on a hunger strike for three days, even jumping from a second-story balcony and breaking his leg just to escape and see her.

Back then, watching a bloodied Kingston, her mind had been filled with a single thought: *Kingston, when this mission is over, I’ll tell you everything. We’ll be together, and we will never, ever be apart.*

Now, the scene was identical, but the players had changed. Her heart was a hollow, frozen shell.

*Kingston, you don't have to die.*

*In less than a month, my mission ends.*

*And by then, I will vanish from your life forever.*

*You and your Alison can have your happily ever after.*