Prologue

Capital city – night time.

There was silence in the penthouse, save for the soft hum of the city below. Alexander Grant stood by the floor-to-ceiling window, his hands clasped behind his back as he gazed out at the glittering skyline. The view was breathtaking, a canvas of lights stretching endlessly beneath the cloak of night, but his mind was elsewhere. Far away from the million-dollar view, it lingered on a woman—Evie. Her name, an echo in his thoughts, haunted him like a shadow he could neither outrun nor shake.

For months, Alexander had been watching her. Evelyn Lane—Evie—was a struggling artist, a woman whose heart seemed to carry the weight of the world. She had the soul of a poet and the hands of a painter, but those hands were often stained with more than just paint. They bled from the constant strain of juggling jobs to make ends meet, of fighting for every breath when life seemed determined to crush her. Her art, once full of promise, was beginning to fade into desperation. He had seen it in her work—the passion was still there, but it was frayed at the edges, teetering on the brink of collapse.

The file on his desk was a testament to his obsession. It was meticulously organized, with every detail about her life captured in cold, precise pages. Family background, financial struggles, the long hours she worked at the local café, the cramped apartment she lived in—every fact, every piece of information was there. But there was more. A photograph of her in front of an easel, eyes wide with unspoken dreams, hands stained with colors that seemed to bleed into the canvas itself. She was beautiful in a way that took your breath away, but it was the kind of beauty that could be easily overlooked by the world around her.

Alexander had been keeping tabs on her for months, watching from a distance. He saw the exhaustion in her eyes, the weight she carried with every step she took. He admired her resilience, her unwillingness to give up despite everything, but he also saw the cracks beneath her hardened exterior. The façade of strength was breaking, and he knew it was only a matter of time before she shattered entirely.

There had been moments, fleeting moments, when he had considered reaching out to her—offering his help, his resources, some kind of lifeline—but he had always held back. It wasn't like him to act out of a sense of goodwill. Alexander Grant was a man who calculated every move, who played every game with precision. His actions were always motivated by something more than just a desire to help. He had no interest in charity, no desire to be a savior. Yet, for reasons he couldn't fully explain, he couldn't stop thinking about her.

The thought had come to him late one night, the idea slipping into his mind like a whisper he couldn't ignore. He had been sitting in his study, staring at an old photograph tucked away in his drawer. The image had been taken years ago, a relic from a past he had long buried.

Helping her, offering her the chance to finally breathe without sinking further into the abyss—in his own way. It wasn't about charity; it wasn't about saving her. It was about balance. Justice.

He had always believed in the necessity of balance. And right now, Evie's life was tipping dangerously toward the wrong side of it.

Alexander picked up the file again, his fingers lingering over the photograph of Evie. Her face was smeared with paint, her eyes alive with a kind of fire that made his heart stutter. There was so much untapped potential in her, so much promise that the world refused to see. He could give her everything she needed. He could help her escape the suffocating life she had built for herself. But there was a catch. He would need her to owe him in return. The debt would come with strings.

He set the file down with a sigh, his gaze lingering on her photograph one last time before he turned to his phone. The decision had been made. The plan was set in motion.

He dialed a number, his voice calm, controlled. "Martin, I need you to arrange a meeting with Evelyn Lane. There's something I need to discuss with her."

As he spoke, his mind raced. The meeting would be delicate—an intricate dance where every word, every gesture would carry meaning. He couldn't afford to make a misstep. He had been too careful for too long to let his emotions cloud his judgment now. Yet, even as he spoke to Martin, a knot of unease twisted in his stomach. There was something unsettling about the entire situation. He wasn't sure if it was the weight of his past, or the idea of seeing her face-to-face after all this time.

The phone call ended, and Alexander returned to his place by the window, staring out at the city lights. The shadows outside seemed to flicker in the corners of his vision, and for a moment, he could almost feel the weight of her presence, as if she were standing there with him, watching, waiting.

What was he doing? Was this truly the right thing?

He had always prided himself on his ability to control situations, to remain detached, to never let his emotions get the better of him. But with her, it was different. She was an enigma, a puzzle that refused to be solved. The closer he got, the more uncertain he became. And that terrified him.

He turned from the window and walked to his desk, his eyes scanning the file one last time. There was no going back now. The meeting was set. The plan was in motion.

But as he looked at the photograph of Evie once more, a lingering question gnawed at him: Would she ever see the truth of his intentions? Or would he find himself drowning in his own need to save her, only to realize that, in doing so, he had doomed them both?

The night was silent, but in the stillness, the weight of his decision pressed down on him, heavier than the city itself.

As he stood by the window, watching the city lights flicker in the distance, Alexander couldn't help but wonder if he had made the right decision. He had always been a man of logic, of reason, but this… this felt different. It felt personal.

And that scared him more than he cared to admit.