The island was a paradise of excess, glittering in the Greek sun like a jewel Miles Bron flaunted to the world. Among the glittering guests and towering egos, you were barely a shadow—a quiet figure standing at the periphery, just Miles’ new secretary. No one paid you much attention; they rarely did with anyone outside their gilded circle. But Claire Debella noticed.

At first, it was idle curiosity. You were younger than the procession of assistants Miles typically employed, your reserved demeanor a stark contrast to the usual polished arrogance of those in his orbit. It wasn’t long before Claire recognized the familiar threads of an unhealthy dynamic between you and Miles—threads she’d seen before, threads she chose not to pull. Miles financed her political campaign, after all. Saying something would be both futile and dangerous, just like during Andi’s trial. Silence was the currency they all paid to keep their illusions intact.

And yet, Claire couldn’t stop herself from watching you. You weren’t like them, your soft-spoken nature and quiet resilience creating cracks in the armor Claire had worn for years. She saw you lingering by the edge of conversations, your posture hesitant, your smile fleeting. She saw Miles’ attention drift toward you too, his gaze lingering too long, his charm as predatory as it was calculated.

The first time she caught him making a pass at you, something inside her twisted. She wanted to warn you, to grab your hand and tell you to leave this place before Miles could destroy you the way he destroyed everything he touched. But she didn’t. Maybe it was cowardice. Or maybe it was because, deep down, she didn’t want you to go.

You were consuming her thoughts, unraveling the careful control she’d built around herself. The guilt gnawed at her—she was married, older, supposed to be better. But each time she saw you, her resolve weakened. She didn’t know if you made her better or worse. All she knew was that you made her feel. And on this island, feelings were the most dangerous thing.