If anyone found out what I overheard in the boardroom this morning, my career wouldn't just be over. My life would be.

I pressed myself against the cold wall inside the executive restroom, barely daring to breathe. My heart hammered so hard it felt like it would burst through my chest. This wasn't where I was supposed to be. I had only come upstairs to deliver a document. Instead, I'd heard something that could destroy one of the most powerful men in the city.

Ethan Vance. The billionaire CEO everyone feared. His voice still echoed in my head, low and controlled even through the panic threading beneath it.

"I don't care what it costs," he had said over the phone. "I need a wife before midnight. If this scandal gets out, the board will remove me."

A wife. The ruthless businessman who never smiled, who avoided every public relationship as though it were a liability on a balance sheet, suddenly needed a wife before the clock ran out on him. None of it made sense, and yet the second part of the call had chilled me even further than the first.

"If I can't fix this by tomorrow, the merger is dead."

My stomach twisted. The merger was worth millions. Maybe billions. I squeezed my eyes shut, wishing I could unhear every word of it, but it was already too late for that. A sharp sound echoed outside the restroom door. Footsteps, heavy, deliberate, coming closer. I froze as the handle of the main door turned and someone stepped inside.

My phone vibrated in my pocket, the sound deafening in the sudden silence. Unknown Number. Before I could decline the call, a text message lit up my screen instead, and my blood ran cold.

I know you heard everything. Stay where you are. I'm coming for you.

I stared at the words, unable to breathe, telling myself it had to be a mistake. It wasn't. It was a nightmare, and I was standing in the middle of it with nowhere left to hide.

If someone had told me, when I woke up this morning, that I would end my day hiding inside an executive restroom while the most powerful man in the city hunted me down, I would have laughed in their face. Today was supposed to be normal. Boring, even. I had left my apartment thinking about overdue rent, an unfinished manuscript, and whether the instant noodles in my kitchen would survive until payday. Nothing dramatic. Nothing life changing. Certainly nothing involving Ethan Vance.

And yet here I was, trapped, holding my breath like a criminal, staring at a message that made my skin crawl. The secret was already in my head, and apparently, Ethan Vance knew exactly where to find the rest of me.

My fingers tightened around the phone. Maybe if I stayed quiet long enough, he'd assume I had already left. Maybe he'd get distracted. Maybe pigs would start flying somewhere over the city skyline. A nervous, disbelieving laugh nearly escaped me before I swallowed it back down.

Then I heard it again. Footsteps, heavy and unhurried, growing louder with every step, moving with the kind of patient certainty that told me whoever it was already knew exactly where I was hiding. Somehow, that made it so much worse than if they'd been searching at random. I held my breath as the footsteps stopped directly outside my stall.

Panic clawed up my throat. I thought about running, but there was no version of that plan that ended with me outrunning a billionaire and whatever security detail he no doubt traveled with. I thought about staying silent, but he'd already sent a text proving he knew precisely where I was. Brilliant thinking, Maya. Absolutely brilliant.

A knock sounded against the stall door, and I nearly jumped out of my skin.

"Miss Thompson."

The deep voice sent a chill racing down my spine, and with it went the last thin thread of hope I'd been clinging to. He didn't just know I was hiding in this restroom. He knew exactly who I was.

For a moment, I couldn't move. My hand tightened around my phone as I stared at the stall door, half convinced that if I stayed perfectly still, Ethan Vance would simply give up and walk away. The idea sounded ridiculous even as I thought it. This was a man who had tracked me down in under five minutes. He wasn't leaving without finding me.

"Miss Thompson," he said again, his voice calm and unbearably controlled. "I know you're in there."

I closed my eyes and let out a shaky breath. There was no point hiding any longer. If he wanted me found, he would find me. If he wanted me fired, he would fire me. If he wanted security to drag me out of the building, they had probably already been told exactly where to look. Slowly, I unlocked the door and stepped out to face him.

He was, without question, the most striking man I had ever seen in person, and I hated how much that fact registered even in the middle of my own private catastrophe. At least six foot four, broad through the shoulders in a way his tailored black suit didn't so much hide as showcase, with a jaw that looked carved and dark eyes that seemed capable of stripping away every excuse before I'd even finished making it. No wonder half the business press treated him like a myth instead of a man.

"Mr. Vance," I managed.

"So you know who I am." It wasn't really a question.

"Yes."

"And you heard my conversation." Not a question either. A statement, delivered with the flat certainty of a man who already knew the answer and simply wanted to watch me squirm through admitting it.