Hell to Pay

What began as a fairy tale unraveled into a cold-blooded contract of convenience.
David once believed in forever. Now, every breath he takes beside Kathryn tastes like dust and duty. Their home is a mausoleum of silent dinners and clinking bourbon glasses-her eyes always glassy, her mouth always pursed. The scent of stale gin and resentment clings to her like perfume.

But Eva...
Eva is fire wrapped in silk. The minute she walked back into his life, the gray world cracked open. Her laughter stirred something long buried, her skin reminded him of sunlight, her voice like velvet smoothed over old wounds. With her, David feels alive-more than that, he feels human again.

He aches for her in a way that haunts him, needs her like air in his lungs. He dreams of waking to her tousled curls on his pillow, of falling asleep to the lull of her breath. Not a single part of him wants to go back to Kathryn-not her cold sheets, not her cold words, not her cold wealth.

But Kathryn isn't the kind of woman you leave.

She's old money, with deeper pockets than empathy. Every move David makes is chained to a credit card, a legacy, a threat. She doesn't cry-she calculates. Her love was always a power play dressed in pearls and silk gloves. And now, even as she withers into a bottle, she still has the audacity to clutch him like property.

Kathryn has to die.
Not by rage. Not in chaos. But clean. Inevitable. Undeniable.

David has already chosen the future. Eva is his compass. His cure. And she has news for him-news that could change everything. But so does Kathryn.

Two women. Two revelations.
Only one will survive the night.