At Apex Tower, Dylan Hill stared at his monitor as if it had personally offended him.
The headlines blaring across the screen read like captions from a trashy daytime drama.
[William Hayes Disowns Daughter, Olivia Hayes, Banishing Her From the Family!]
[What Caused the Rift? Inside Olivia Hayes’ Dramatic Fall From Grace.]
[Heiress No More: Olivia Hayes Left Penniless and Alone.]
"What in the world happened?"
Dylan muttered, blinking, half-expecting the words to rearrange themselves into something that made sense.
They didn't.
He leaned back, the leather of his office chair groaning in protest. His mind flashed back to that morning, weeks ago, when he’d seen Olivia Hayes slipping out of Julian’s presidential suite like a thief in the night.
What he’d witnessed wasn’t something he could casually bring up, especially not to his boss, Julian Ford.
But now, with Olivia’s name plastered all over the internet, the memory and the headlines collided. The connection they made sent a jolt of ice through his veins.
"Did she do something to infuriate her father that badly? Wait… did William Hayes find out she spent the night with Julian?"
The thought, spoken aloud in the quiet office, made him shiver.
A wave of pure panic shot him out of his chair. He stormed out of his office and marched directly toward the lion’s den: Julian Ford’s office.
He rapped twice on the heavy door—gentle, polite. That was all he dared.
"Come in," came Julian’s voice, cool and clipped.
Dylan entered to find Julian buried in a mountain of paperwork, his pen scratching furiously across a document. He didn’t even glance up. The man was married to his work, and it was a demanding spouse.
Still, Dylan hesitated. Any conversation involving the Hayes family had a fifty-fifty chance of ending with a very expensive paperweight being thrown in his direction.
He positioned himself a safe distance from the desk, just in case.
"Boss, it’s me. Are you busy?" Dylan asked, his voice calm and professional, a stark contrast to the frantic screaming inside his head.
Julian didn’t look up.
"What kind of question is that, Dylan?" he replied, his tone dry enough to chap skin.
"I mean… do you remember a few weeks ago? Right after the New Year’s party?" Dylan ventured, taking a tentative step closer.
Julian paused just long enough to scrawl his signature, then finally lifted his eyes to meet Dylan’s panicked gaze.
"Should I?" he asked. A single eyebrow arched—a dangerous tell that someone was about to deeply regret their life choices.
Dylan faltered, wondering if this was the right time.
Maybe he should take Julian to a bar, soften him up with a few glasses of whiskey, and then casually drop the bomb?
His mind was a complete blank.
Not a single good idea emerged before Julian’s voice sliced through his indecision.
"For God's sake, Dylan, you're wasting my time," Julian snapped, his gaze already returning to the document before him. "You can leave now. I have a stack of contracts you begged me to sign, and you’re just hovering in here like a nervous intern."
Dylan sighed internally. So much for perfect timing.
"Boss, what I mean is… do you know who you slept with on New Year's Liv?"
That got his attention.
Julian’s hand froze mid-signature. He placed his pen down with deliberate, almost theatrical slowness and leaned back in his chair, his expression unreadable.
"Why? Did someone show up claiming to be carrying my secret love child?" he asked, a dry, humorless chuckle escaping his lips.
He dismissed the idea instantly. There were rules. Unspoken, but unbreakable. Any woman who shared his bed took precautions. It was a simple, cold transaction.
But Dylan’s face had gone ghost-white. The blood seemed to drain from it entirely as a new, horrifying thought took root.
Did Olivia get pregnant? Is that why her father disowned her?
Julian’s eyes narrowed.
"Why do you look like you just got caught with your hand in the cookie jar?" he asked, a hint of amusement in his voice.
"B-Boss… the woman you were with that night… it wasn’t the supermodel our company just signed," Dylan stammered, his voice trembling slightly.
Julian’s brow furrowed. He tried to sift through the hazy, alcohol-soaked fragments of that night.
He remembered the party, the endless flow of whiskey. But the woman? Nothing. His memory offered only a blank, frustrating void.
"Who was she?"
Dylan swallowed hard.
"The eldest daughter of William Hayes—"
"Cough!"
Julian choked, a strangled, violent cough escaping his throat. His face flushed a deep red, his eyes wide with disbelief. He never imagined, not in a million years, that she would be the one in his bed.
"Dylan, if this is your idea of a creative resignation, just say so. Don’t waste my time with such a ridiculous joke."
"Boss, I’m being completely serious. That morning, when I went to your suite, she was the one who opened the door. She looked like she was in a huge rush—her shoes were barely on—and she bolted as if she was terrified you’d wake up and see her."
Dylan’s words tumbled out, desperate to be believed, even as he recognized how insane it all sounded.
He’d been just as stunned as Julian was now when he’d seen Olivia Hayes fleeing that room.
…
Julian said nothing.
He rose from his chair and walked to the immense glass wall behind his desk, his gaze sweeping over the traffic-choked streets below.
His mind reeled, replaying that morning. It was the only time he’d ever woken up alone. When his eyes had finally opened, the only other person in the suite had been Dylan.
Something had shifted in him after that day. He’d chalked it up to being busy, but the truth was, he hadn’t slept with another woman since.
Now, he understood. The anonymous woman had left a mark on him. Even with the memory blurred, the feeling of that night had lingered, seared into his subconscious.
Every woman who had thrown herself at him since then had felt… dull. Lifeless. Like watching a film in black and white after having seen a single, brilliant flash of color.
Why her? he thought. Of all the women in the world—more beautiful, more ambitious, more powerful—why her?
After what felt like an eternity, Julian finally turned to face Dylan, who was still standing rigidly by the desk.
"Why are you only telling me this now? Did she show up claiming she’s pregnant?"
Dylan shook his head.
He walked silently to Julian’s desk and typed a few words into the computer’s search bar.
A few clicks later, he turned the monitor to face his boss.
"You need to see the news about her, boss. Her father kicked her out of the family."
The words struck Julian with the force of a physical blow.
"What? Why would that old man do that?"
"I don't know, sir. But… would you like me to investigate?"
Julian considered it for a moment, then waved a dismissive hand. "I’m not interested in their family drama."
But just as Dylan turned to go, Julian’s voice stopped him.
"Yes, boss? Is there something else?"
"Find out if she’s carrying my child or not," Julian said, his tone flat and businesslike. "It would be a considerable annoyance if she tried to use a pregnancy to chase after me."
A small, knowing smirk touched Dylan’s lips as he nodded.
"Yes, sir. Consider it done."