Sterling Romero left Romero Manor that night, pissed off enough to ditch his car halfway home and take the dog for a walk. What he didn't expect was to stumble into that scene. There she was—a gorgeous, battered little rosebud—cornered by a pack of mangy strays. She looked fragile, but the way she lifted her chin, eyes blazing with defiance, yanked him straight back to the orphaned wolf pup he'd once lived with in the mountains for almost a month when he was ten. All bluff and bared teeth, guarding its tiny patch of earth. Weak, but burning with life. That wolf had died by his hands in the end. And this girl? She was the same kind of creature—small, thorny, and ready to bleed whoever tried to hurt her. Her face didn't even twitch as she broke those thugs' arms like twigs. Nothing touched her. Sterling—who rarely cared about anything—felt a flicker of interest he couldn't shake. Against his better judgment, he stepped in.Up close, she was even harder to forget. Those eyes—dark, clear, bright as a night after rain—hooked into something buried deep inside him. When she looked up, startled, there was a starlit glint that made his fingers itch to reach out, to cover those sharp, fearless eyes. Fine. He'd already intervened. Might as well see it through. And, honestly, he needed to blow off some steam. The alley was filled with screams. A minute ago, those thugs had just been too hurt to crawl. Now? They were in pieces—arms useless, legs broken, panic thick in the air. They regretted everything. The job had been simple—rough her up a bit, nothing major. Their boss had even warned them not to leave marks. But she was too beautiful, and a few of them got greedy. Who could've guessed that the delicate beauty punched like a demon—and worse, that a man like him would show up out of nowhere? Cold, lethal, like Death himself in a designer coat. If murder were legal, they were sure he'd have snapped their necks without blinking. The ringleader was already losing it. Sterling strolled back to where the girl lay watching from the ground. His tone carried a trace of wicked amusement. "You're fast, but not nearly ruthless enough. Leave loose ends like that, and they'll come back to bite you. So, little stray—how're you planning to pay me back tonight?" Claudia—who could've handled the fight fine on her own, and now somehow owed this stranger—went silent. Flat on her back, face streaked with blood and dust, she somehow looked unreal in the dark. Sterling's brow furrowed. Filthy. He reached down to pull the quiet rosebud to her feet—then something shoved him hard. He stumbled, lost his balance, and went down right on top of her. His weight crushed her injured arm; his left hand landed on something softer. His fingers tensed and squeezed before his brain caught up. He froze. So did she. Their eyes locked, wide in mutual shock. A few feet away, the guilty shepherd dog sat blinking, like, Please don't notice me.Pinned under a stranger, everything aching, Claudia drew a long, shaky breath. Handsome or not, a group was still a group. Her calm expression sharpened to something feral. Sterling heard the rosebud's first words to him that night. "No one ever told you?" "Told me what?" "Not to stick your nose in other people's business." Before the last word faded, she wrapped her arms around his neck and yanked him down. Their foreheads collided with a crack. Pain spiked. “Officer! Over here!" Her voice rang out clear. Seconds later, sirens split the night. Cops came running. Sterling, realizing he'd just been played, let out a low, disbelieving laugh. "That's how you treat your savior?" He ended up sprawled exactly where she'd been, his voice dripping with sarcasm.Claudia stood, half-shadowed, and gave him a thin smile. “Obviously. I'm the ungrateful villainess, remember?" ... That night, Liberty City's golden boy—the heir to Romero Corporation—got hauled down to the station. Clint showed up fast with a lawyer, sneaking looks at the girl who sparked the Reaper's rare mercy… and then nailed him for harassment. Bold enough, right? She was gorgeous—and clearly afraid of nothing. Once the thugs were booked, Clint braced himself, waiting for Sterling to say the word: Handle her. Instead, Sterling said, "Find out who she is." "Who?" The word slipped out before Clint could stop it. Sterling never showed interest in any woman. The idea alone was terrifying. Sterling's gaze cut his way, sharp enough to shut him up. "Yes, sir," Clint muttered quickly. Watching the girl stride off after throwing one last, blazing look over her shoulder, Clint felt a pang of pity. That was it. She and her whole family were done. ... Unaware of the storm she'd just kicked up, Claudia dragged herself home at dawn, chased by a barrage of calls. Her father, Wilson Lancaster, met her at the door with a ringing slap. "How did I raise a daughter like you?" She didn't dodge in time. Her pale cheek bloomed red and swollen. The room froze. Jasper's brow furrowed, pain flashing in his eyes. He forced himself not to interfere. Claudia had crossed a line this time; if she didn't learn, who knew what chaos she'd stir up next? Still… Wilson had hit too hard. The sight twisted something in Jasper's chest. Lottie, Clarence, and Zane all wore the same angry, disappointed look. On the sofa, Lydia's eyes gleamed with poorly hidden glee. She'd been furious last night that her hired creeps had blown it and ended up at the station. Luckily, she'd covered her tracks. They'd claimed it was just a "heat-of-the-moment" grab, and since nothing serious happened, there was nothing to tie back to her. She'd been discharged that morning and dropped the bait she'd prepped ages ago. The Lancasters swallowed it whole. After disappearing all night, nobody asked where Claudia had been—or noticed her injuries. They greeted her with a slap. That was her family. Claudia didn't argue. She walked straight up to smug little Lydia and slapped her instead—hard. She couldn't hit her father, but she could sure as hell hit his darling. It happened so fast, everyone just stared. Even Lottie, who'd felt a flicker of pity, shot to her feet, shrieking, "Claudia! What do you think you're..." The second slap landed before she could finish. Lydia's face was perfectly symmetrical now.