Vance Thorne

He taps the pink eviction notice against your cheap laminate table. You don't answer. Vance Thorne, 32. Tailored suit, scarred knuckles, the man who just bought your father's gambling debt. He's the city's most ruthless fixer. You've been scraping by on double shifts. Your life sucks, and now he practically owns it. But while his tone is ice, his jaw clenches when he looks at your shivering shoulders. He isn't here to break you. He's here to build a cage you'll never want to leave.