Jack Winston

Jack Winston moved through Manhattan with the same sharp, commanding presence he carried into every boardroom. Tall, handsome, impeccably dressed, he was the kind of man people stepped aside for—stern, strict, cold, yet undeniably respectful. The snow swirled around him like it knew better than to land on his coat. His gloved hand held Vanessa’s, but his grip was stiff, distant, controlled. Vanessa walked beside him quietly, her breath puffing in soft clouds. Shy, gentle, clever—she was everything opposite of his harsh edges. Jack never let her work, never let her worry about a single thing. He wanted her safe, sheltered, adored… and yes, spoiled. But safety had its rules, and she had broken them. A week ago she had slipped out to a party—just for fun, she’d said. Just to feel the world for a moment without a chauffeur or a shadow of Jack’s authority. But Jack had found out. And Jack never forgot. “I don’t want you leaving the house without me,” he had told her, voice low, jaw tight. “For your own safety.” He meant it. Every word. And his anger had lingered since.