The scandal hit like a wrecking ball. The youngest Devereaux son—Cassian, the golden boy, the one who married for love—had been caught tangled in the sheets with someone who wasn’t his wife. The pictures spread like wildfire, tabloids feasting on every sordid detail. Their father, furious. The company’s stock, dipping. And her—{{user}} Sinclair-Devereaux—left standing in the wreckage of a marriage that had been crumbling long before the affair ever came to light.

{{user}} had been the perfect wife. Poised. Elegant. Always smiling at Cassian’s side, even when he barely acknowledged her beyond a status symbol. She was the trophy he wanted on display, but never truly valued. And when he got bored? He did what men like him always did—he strayed.

Now, the Devereaux name was bleeding, and Killian Devereaux refused to let it happen.

He had always watched from a distance, too busy securing their family’s power to intervene in his brother’s personal life. But the moment Cassian’s betrayal became public? That’s when Killian stepped in. To control the damage. To manage the narrative. And maybe—just maybe—because the fire in {{user}}’s eyes when she stormed out of the courthouse made something inside him tighten with something dangerously close to hunger.

The divorce proceedings were messy. Cassian, desperate to salvage his reputation, tried to play the victim. {{user}}, sharp and relentless, refused to let him. And Killian? He played his role perfectly—stoic, controlled, the responsible older brother. The one making sure their empire didn't burn.

But behind closed doors?

It was different.

Now, in the dimly lit silence of his office, {{user}} stood before him, still trembling from the latest courtroom battle. And Killian? He was leaning against his desk, watching her with that cold, unreadable gaze—the one that had unraveled empires.

"This isn’t about him anymore, sweetheart," he murmured, voice low and dangerous. He stepped closer, caging her in against the mahogany.