Page 56 of Claimed By The Other Brother

When they're done, I stand in front of the mirror. I look...good. Better than good.The dress, the hair, the makeup—it all comes together into a version of myself Ibarely recognize. Someone confident. Someone who isn't falling apart.

"You look amazing," Jane says, appearing beside me in the mirror.

"We all do," Sarah adds, striking a pose.

She's right. We look ready for a night out. Ready to have fun.

I grab my clutch and slip on the red heels Jane packed.

"Let's do this."

The car drops us off in front of a sleek building in downtown Manhattan. The lounge is on the ground floor, its entrance marked by subtle lighting and a velvet rope. A line of people wait outside, but Jane somehow knew to put our names on the list.

The bouncer checks his tablet and waves us through.

Inside, the space is stunning. High ceilings, dim lighting, a long bar that stretches the length of one wall. The music is loud but not overwhelming, a mix of electronic and pop that makes you want to move. The crowd is beautiful—well-dressed people drinking expensive cocktails and talking in clusters.

We weave through the space, finding a spot at the bar. The bartender is there immediately, ready to take our order.

"Vodka soda," I say.

Jane orders a martini. Sarah gets a Manhattan. While we wait for our drinks, I scan the room. The lounge is packed, energy buzzing through the space. People laughing, dancing, living their lives.

No one here knows me. No one knows what happened. I'm just another woman in a black dress, out with her friends, trying to have a good time.

The bartender returns with our drinks. Jane raises her glass.

"To moving on," she says.

"To moving on," Sarah and I echo.

We clink glasses, and I take a long sip. The vodka burns going down, but it's exactly what I need.

The music shifts, something with a heavy beat. Sarah starts swaying, already getting into it. Jane grabs my hand and pulls me closer to the speakers, away from the bar.

I let them lead me, let the music wash over me, let myself get lost in the moment. For the first time in days, I feel something other than pain.

I feel alive.

Chapter Ten

Dax

The conference room on the forty-second floor has floor-to-ceiling windows that overlook Manhattan. I'm seated at the head of the table, my laptop open in front of me, reviewing the final slide of the presentation I just walked through.

Across from me sit three executives from Sterling Media Group—a mid-sized company we're in advanced talks to acquire. Robert Mitchell, their CFO, is leaning back in his chair, arms crossed. Jessica Torres, their COO, is taking notes. David Kane, their CEO, is the one asking most of the questions.

"The integration timeline concerns me," Kane says, tapping his pen against the table.

"Six months feels aggressive given the complexity of our systems."

"It is aggressive," I agree, keeping my tone measured.

"That's intentional. The longer we wait to integrate operations, the more revenuewe lose to inefficiencies. Our team has done this successfully with three other acquisitions in the past eighteen months."

Mitchell leans forward.

"What's the success rate on those integrations staying within budget?"