First pair: a starlet and Rose.

Victor doesn't blink: "Rose."

Cheers erupt as Rose blushes.

My digits dig into palms as photo after photo flashes-each time, he picks Rose.

I flee to the closet, but wild cheers follow.

My photo appears beside Rose's on the tablet.

" This is interesting! Miss Stone's the circle's beauty-if he still picks Rose. "

All eyes fix on Victor.

He's uncharacteristically silent.

Three heartbeats pass.

"Rose," he says low.

My world collapses.

As whoops deafen the hall, I stagger to the sink, splashing cold water-useless against the fire in my veins.

In the dim corridor, drunkards block my path.

"Add me, beauty," one slurs, reaching.

"Back off!"

I reel, hitting the wall.

Another grabs my wrist: "Dressed like this for play, no?"

A snarl rips the air-Victor lunges, twisting the man's wrist.

He hauls me to his car, trunk in tow.

"Unhand me!" I thrash.

He pins my wrist: "More antics?"

His tone jars a memory: when I fled Sire's home, he'd hunt me down, carry me back. "More tantrums?" he'd ask, my face buried in his snow pine scent.

Foolish me, thinking he cared.

I bite his hand.

He frowns, starts the car.

At his home, he dumps my trunk: "Stay till you seek your shelter."

I stand at the threshold: "Half a month. I'll pay rent, no more disturbance."

"No disturbance?"

His gaze pierces through gold rims.

"Can you promise that?"

The words slice deep.

He's seen my fall-from defiance to dependency.

While he guards his sweetheart, watching me drown.

"Rose is my step-dam's whelp," I blurt.

He pauses: "Learned that today."

"Your bond to her?"

"Schoolmate. She saved me in a crash, heals abroad." His eyes warn: "Your quarrel is with your step-dam, not Rose."

I retreat, slamming the door as tears fall.

I lie in a blood pool, vision fading, yet see Victor Voss cradle Rose Wyndham-guarding her like treasure.

memories flash:

First meet, his eyes cold as ice behind gold rims;

Me pouring salt in his coffee, him drinking it stone-faced;

Our first clash on his desk, my teeth in his shoulder;

His birthday, my room decked in roses-only to find him with Rose;

Walking five miles to my mother's shrine, blistered heels, his silent back carrying me home.

.

The monitor's beep jolts me. Next bed, Rose weeps:

"My fault, quarreling on the road. I just wanted to drive her home. Victor, why save me first? She'll rage!"

He wipes her tears: "No blame. I'd choose you again. Your health is frail. She has no reason to anger."

His softness-unknown to me-slices my core.

What am I to him?

When Rose leaves, Victor turns, finding me awake.

"Superficial wounds. Called the best healers-no scars."

I nod: "Understood. fees repaid in half a moon."

He frowns at "half a moon," but leaves me to silence.

Days pass.

Victor stays, but I no longer cling.

Silent during treatments, meals, sleeps-emptying his world.

At a injection, he breaks: "Still angry?"

"At what?" I watch him adjust the drip.

"For saving Rose first. We-"

A corridor commotion cuts him off.

A nurse whispers: "Step-daughter of Stone Group's sire fell-rushed to emergency."

Victor's face shifts: "Pack calls. Return soon." He leaves, my heart icing.

Seven hours later, a nurse gasps: "Your drip backflowed! Near disaster!"

My hand is swollen. No visit from him.

"Where's your hunk?" a nurse teases.

"Not my mate," I say, limping out.

Corridor whispers pierce:

"Step-sire dotes-private healer, VIP den."

"Wealth can't buy love."

Through a cracked door: Victor adjusts Rose's drip; my sire feeds her apples.

tears fall, but I wipe them: "No tears. No one cares."

My steps steady, rapid.