Chapter 2

The woman on the other end of the line was Victoria Vance.

In elite venture capital circles, she was an absolute myth.

More than half the names on the Forbes list danced to her tune behind closed doors.

She harbored a very peculiar obsession.

She didn't care for diamonds, nor did she collect rare antiquities. What she collected were exceptional human specimens.

Not in some crude, illicit ring.

Her twisted pleasure lay in breaking excessively arrogant, handsome men, reducing them to flawless, eternally obedient works of art displayed in her private estate.

I had crossed paths with her at an exclusive, ultra-private gala.

At the time, Chase was in a VIP booth, shamelessly laughing and schmoozing with Lauren's father.

Meanwhile, I, his lawful wife, had been pushed aside to a shadowy corner.

Victoria had sat down next to me. Swirling a glass of red wine, her gaze drifted past me, locking onto Chase across the room.

"Your husband has decent raw material," she had murmured smoothly.

"A pity he's been fattened into something so greasy. He's lost his edge."

I had written it off as casual cocktail banter.

Yet, after the gala, her chief of staff tracked me down and handed me an embossed business card.

"Ms. Vance mentioned that if you ever decide to dispose of this particular piece, you may contact her.

"She will offer a price you cannot refuse, along with an entirely new trajectory for your career."

I had clutched that card, cold sweat pooling in my palms.

I honestly thought I would never make that call.

Yet Chase and Lauren had shoved me to the absolute edge of the cliff.

Rather than jumping off and smashing to pieces, I decided to drag them down with me, so they could witness what real hell looked like.

"Excellent," Victoria's voice drifted back, laced with a faint, amused purr.

"Strip him bare of your ties first. Don't let him arrive dragging baggage from his ex. I only take pristine specimens."

"My assistant will iron out the terms with you."

Less than a minute after the line went dead, an unknown number rang.

It was Victoria's assistant.

"Ms. Lin, regarding the acquisition of Mr. Chase Miller, Ms. Vance offers the following terms:

"First, a wire transfer of fifty million dollars as your finder's fee."

The breath caught in my throat.

"Second, Ms. Vance will inject equity capital into your father's firm and open her premier supply-chain networks to overhaul your manufacturing line.

"The condition: you must take a seat on the board and serve as the lead executive for the new venture."

This wasn't just about money anymore.

She was handing me a golden scepter, launching me into the stratosphere.

"Third," the assistant's voice remained flat and mechanical.

"Regarding the Sterling Group—Ms. Vance despises anyone throwing their weight around on her turf. You won't need to worry about them."

I gripped the phone until my knuckles turned white.

Victoria didn't merely want Chase the man.

She wanted the complete, unadulterated thrill of the hunt and curation.

And I was the curator clearing the path for her private exhibit.

"What do I need to do?" I asked.

"It's simple," the assistant replied. "Make sure he walks into Ms. Vance's gallery entirely of his own free will."