At the start of the month, Raven Sullivan clutched the invitation Kingston Stone had given her and stepped into the Barnes villa. To her surprise, Kingston was already there.

He paced over to her, his frigid gaze raking over her body. "You actually came? In such a rush to find your next provider?"

He leaned in, his voice a malicious whisper against her ear. "Everyone knows you’ve been run ragged by me. What kind of decent man would want you now?"

Raven shot him a sharp glare. "Well, thanks to you, everyone knows exactly how good I am in bed. Your brothers have been practically lining up to ask me out."

Kingston’s expression darkened. He grabbed her wrist, his voice tight with suppressed rage. "This isn't a place for you to be. If it’s that bad, I’ll give you another payout—enough to keep you living comfortably for the rest of your life. Now, get out."

Raven caught a flicker of something in his eyes. He knew something. "Kingston, do you—"

"Kingston!" Alison Hayes’ voice cut through the air.

She hurried over, wrapping her arms around Kingston’s bicep and pulling him away from Raven. "You promised me you were done with her."

Kingston stiffened. "Alison, I—"

Alison’s eyes welled up, and she spun around to run. Kingston immediately chased after her, but he couldn't resist a final glance back at Raven. His look was incredibly complex—a warning, tangled with a desperate, unspoken plea.

Once they were gone, Raven let out a breath. She didn't want them getting in her way. She scanned the room with professional indifference and, under the cover of the crowd, slipped toward the staircase leading to the top floor.

Two burly bodyguards stood outside a heavy, ornate wooden door. It was almost too conspicuous—the security was far too tight for a mere guest room.

She swayed, feigning intoxication as she approached. In her red dress, she looked like a dizzy partygoer. The guards didn't think twice, reaching out to steady her. "Miss, this isn't the place for you."

Her wrist flicked, and a sedative needle buried itself deep into the guard’s neck. The other man’s eyes widened, his mouth opening to shout, but Raven delivered a sharp, precise strike to the base of his skull. Both men slumped to the floor, silent.

She fished the keys from one of their belts and swung the heavy door open.

The sight inside made her blood run cold. Handcuffs, whips, cages... and a massive projector screen.

She turned on the equipment. The flickering, washed-out light revealed distorted figures, weeping faces, and the sound of insane, wretched laughter. She finally understood. This so-called masquerade didn't feast on fine dining; it fed on living, breathing girls. Before midnight, it was a social gathering for the elite. After midnight, Hector Barnes would invite his chosen "members" to toy with these unfortunate women.

When one of these girls died, they’d simply dispose of the body if she had no backing, or fabricate a suicide if she was a starlet, gaslighting the public. He even recorded the process for his friends to "enjoy."

And this was merely the tip of the iceberg. A depravity of this scale required a massive narcotics network and a bottomless money-laundering machine. Raven’s hands trembled as she copied the files onto a drive. These had to leave the house. She couldn't let the Barnes family continue this reign of terror.

As soon as the copy finished, she rushed out of the room. But the moment the door creaked open, an alarm blared. Hector had discovered the intrusion.

She bolted downstairs, only to find every exit to the banquet hall sealed. Guests whispered in panic; the room was spiraling into chaos. Hector appeared at the top of the grand staircase, his voice booming.

"Everyone, calm down. A rare antique has gone missing. To prevent the item from leaving the premises, we must lock down the estate for a brief investigation."

No sooner had he finished than Alison Hayes pointed a shaking finger at Raven. "It’s her! I’ve been watching her! I saw her sneaking upstairs! She definitely stole it!"

Every pair of eyes in the room fixed on Raven.

"Isn't that the woman Kingston Stone kept for a while? Why is she resorting to petty theft?"

"Dumped by Mr. Stone, I guess. Probably broke."

"I heard he gave her a massive breakup fee. Is she that desperate? Is she hooked on something?"

The murmurs swelled—an ugly tide of contempt, curiosity, and sick satisfaction. Hector’s cold eyes locked onto her, his lips curling into a predatory grin. "Miss Sullivan?"

Kingston stood in the crowd, watching her with a complicated expression that dissolved into a disappointed sigh. "Raven, if you needed money, you could have just told me. Why stoop to this?"

Hector stepped toward her, his eyes tracking her like a viper watching a trapped bird. "Hand it over, Miss Sullivan. You know this... is very important to me."

Raven looked at him coolly and lifted her clutch. "I don't have it. If you don't believe me, feel free to search me."

Hector narrowed his eyes and reached for the bag. In the blink of an eye, Raven’s other hand swept beneath her hem, drawing a compact handgun strapped to her thigh.

The dark barrel of the gun pressed firmly against the center of Hector’s forehead. She stood tall, her voice ringing out, clear and glacial: "Hector Barnes, you are under arrest."

The villa’s front doors were kicked off their hinges with a thunderous crash. Heavily armed police flooded the room, securing the area in seconds. Major Marshall strode to Raven’s side, snapped a crisp salute, and shouted, "Officer Sullivan, the Special Task Force is in position. Awaiting your orders."

Kingston stood frozen in the chaotic crowd, his eyes fixed on the figure standing defiant with a gun. Raven Sullivan—the woman he had loved with everything and hated with equal intensity—was a cop!

Alison was the first to snap out of her shock. She spat, "A cop?! Please! Raven, you acted your part well! You spent two years in Kingston’s bed just to run a sting operation? Do you police officers always use your bodies as your entry ticket to a case?"

She tried to pin Raven to the wall of shame, but while the guests whispered, no one dared to move in the face of Raven’s weapon. Kingston’s face was deathly pale; his eyes tracked Raven as if his very soul had been leashed to her.

Alison’s vitriol died in her throat as she shot Raven a hateful glare. But Raven didn't even blink. She completely ignored Alison, and she didn't cast a single glance at Kingston, focusing entirely on the logistics of the arrest.

As the operation neared its end and Hector was dragged away, Raven double-checked the evidence log, nodded to her team, and turned toward the door.

Watching her cold profile, Kingston felt a phantom grip tighten around his heart. She was walking away, one step at a time, completely out of his world.

"Raven!"

Kingston lunged forward, grabbing her wrist. "You never loved Hector." His voice was hoarse, his eyes brimming with a shattered, crimson light. "...And you never loved me, either, did you? It was all just a mission from the start. Wasn't it?"

She didn't confirm it, and she didn't deny it. She just looked at him with an unsettling, quiet stillness. That silence was sharper than any blade, severing the last threads of his fantasy. Kingston’s grip slackened, his hand falling to his side, defeated.

Raven withdrew her gaze, pushed open the door, and stepped into the heavy, midnight air. Her back was cold, entirely out of place in this environment of luxury and rot. She looked so distant—as if no matter how far he ran or how much he begged, she would never look back.

Kingston stood stunned, as if all the air had been sucked out of his lungs. He only heard the hollow thudding of his own heart. He had thought he’d accepted the fact that she didn't love him. He had struggled, distanced himself, even deliberately humiliated her, using every trick to tear himself away from this obsession. But only now did he realize he had never accepted it.

What terrified him more was the realization that she felt nothing for anyone. Not for Hector, and not for him. She was like a machine, executing a command. The thought brought him to the brink of despair.

"Kingston," Alison whispered, reaching out to tug his sleeve.

He subconsciously shook her off, his eyes hollow as he wandered forward without a destination. He didn't know where to go. He only knew he needed total silence to digest this reality that had just dismantled his entire world.

Alison watched his lonely back. She had a sinking premonition: if she let him walk away now, she would never see him again. She rushed after him, throwing her arms around him in a desperate, final gamble. Pressing her face against his rigid spine, she took a shaky, life-altering breath.

"Kingston! I’m pregnant!"