Chapter 59 — Alistair Nightwell Does Not Lose
Alistair Nightwell had never believed in coincidence.
Coincidence was a word people used when they were too stupid—or too afraid—to admit someone had planned everything ten steps ahead.
He stood in the shadows of his penthouse office, hands clasped behind his back, watching the city breathe beneath him. New York pulsed with life, ignorant of how easily its heart could be squeezed.
He had built empires in silence.
And now, a girl who used to scrub floors and change diapers thought she could dismantle him with courage and cameras.
A slow smile curved his lips.
"Kiera Frost," he murmured. "You have no idea what game you stepped into."
Behind him, a screen flickered to life.
Surveillance footage.
Her leaving the mansion. Her at the press conference. Her standing beside Kade like she belonged there.
Like she mattered.
Alistair's jaw tightened.
