"I can't possibly marry him, I hate him," Emma Hart stated emphatically, each word laden with the weight of her anger and unshed tears of injustice.
"If not for yourself, think about our family," came the reproachful response.
Emma bowed her head in silent contemplation, lost in thought for a long while before taking a deep breath and dialing a number. "Do you have some time to talk?"
She tried to steady her quivering voice as she gripped the phone, her knuckles turning white.
"Of course," was the prompt reply.
Across town, seated beside an imposing mahogany conference table, a well-dressed man's eyes flickered with a hint of triumph. "Looks like the tide is turning, my little wildcat."
Damien Sterling, now in a casual shirt and silk pants, slid into his sleek, black Bugatti, racing through the streets like a stealthy panther.
