The Mayfield Inheritance

rtment. In her hands, she clutched a small, elegantly wrapped box-a vintage watch she had saved three months of commissions to buy. It was their two-year anniversary, a mile

the sheet of water falling from the sky. She stepped off the curb, her mind spinning with images of the last two years-every "I love you" now revealed as a hollow fabrication. A sudden, deafening roar of an engine and the screech of tires snapped her back to reality. A pair of blindingly bright LED headlights illuminated the rain around her like a halo of white fire. Emma froze, her heart hammering against her ribs as a massive black Maybach skidded to a halt mere inches from her knees. For a moment, there was only the sound of the windshield wipers thumping steadily and the heavy beat of Emma's own pulse. The heavy rear door of the luxury car swung open. A man stepped out, ignoring the rain that immediately began to pelt his expensive charcoal suit. He was tall-imposing, even-with a presence that seemed to command the very air around him. His hair was a dark, salt-and-pepper blend, and his features were carved from granite, harsh and beautiful. It was Simon Mayfield. Emma recognized him instantly from the photos on Tyler's mantle-the father Tyler spoke of with a toxic mix of resentment and fear. The billionaire mogul who loomed over the city like a titan. Simon didn't look angry; he looked intrigued. He strode toward her, his gaze sweeping over her shivering frame, lingering on the vivid color of her hair against the gray backdrop of the city. "You're going to catch pneumonia standing in the middle of the street, Miss West," Simon said. His voice was a deep, resonant baritone that vibrated in Emma's chest, sounding like velvet pulled over gravel. Emma blinked, water streaming down her face. "How... how do you know who I am?" Simon reached out, his large hand gripping her elbow to steady her. His touch was warm, firm, and startlingly grounding. "I make it my business to know who my son is wasting his time with. Though, looking at you now, it seems he's the one who's been wasted." He looked back toward the apartment building Emma had just fled, his eyes darkening with a flash of col