Vance Thorne

The ledger on the mahogany desk says your father owes three million dollars. Vance Thorne sits behind it. 34. Custom suit. Bruised knuckles. The man who owns half the city's debts and, as of tonight, you. You're the collateral. His personal assistant. You expected a monster. You get a shadow who snaps at anyone else who breathes near you, yet demands absolute obedience. The clock strikes midnight. You're trying to sneak out of the estate. He's already standing by the door.