Chapter 3

I snatched the phone and held it up in front of Christopher.

"Explain this. What is this?"

Still smiling, Christopher came over, his tone so easy it was almost cruel.

"Grace, my mistake. I forgot to mention it."

"I want you to share the byline with her. I already gave her my word. You love me, don't you? You'll grant such a small request, won't you?"

"That's three years of my work. Why should I hand half of it to her?" My voice shook before I could lock it down.

"You think you did all this alone?" Christopher raised his voice, though his tone still aimed for sincerity.

"This was the whole team's effort. Besides, Emma is a gifted writer I've been grooming for a long time. I've already poured massive resources into her. She just needs one successful book to rise overnight."

"So you're using my work as her stepping stone?"

Christopher finally lost patience.

"Grace, stop being ungrateful. Every one of your books became a bestseller because I spent money pushing them to the top of every list. Without me, you'd be nothing in this industry. All I'm asking is for you to mentor a newcomer. What's the big deal?"

I stood up and looked him full in the face.

"The copyright belongs to me. You have no right to put her name on it."

Emma walked over and wound herself around Christopher's arm, her voice silk.

"Darling, the food's getting cold. Everyone's waiting."

Christopher patted her hand, then looked at me.

"Let's eat first. We'll deal with it tomorrow."

I ignored everyone at the table, grabbed my keys, and walked out.

By the time I reached the company tower, massive banners had already been hung the length of the lobby.

Eighty percent of every display featured Emma — glamour portraits, a polished biography, juicy gossip about her and Christopher.

My name had been pushed into a tiny corner.

Marcus, the creative director and one of Christopher's old running mates, lounged in his chair smoking, his lynx-ears half-flattened in boredom.

"Grace, nothing I can do. Christopher called personally, had us working through the night. Besides, you're all the same pack anyway. Does it really matter whose name is on top?"

A chill ran the full length of my spine.

Christopher's "we'll deal with it tomorrow" had been a stalling tactic, nothing more.

I drove back to the apartment.

The dinner guests had gone. Christopher and Emma sat on the couch watching television.

"You had no right." I stormed across the room. "That belongs to me."

Christopher didn't even turn his head. "I'll say this one more time. We're only borrowing your name for a while. Once Emma is established, we'll switch it back in the next edition."

Emma's eyes reddened on cue.

"Grace, this is all my fault. I won't write anymore. Give the book back. I only wanted to help Christopher. He works so hard…"

"This has nothing to do with you."

Christopher pulled her against him, protective.

He looked up at me. "Promoting Emma is the company's strategy. I hope you can be mature about it and stop treating it like a personal slight."

"I'll say it again. The copyright is mine."

"Since you want to talk about rights so badly, Emma is my bonded mate now." He pointed at the door. "If you can't learn to muzzle yourself, maybe you should leave."

I yanked the dissolution out of my bag and threw it at his face.

"I was already leaving tonight. There's nothing left to sort out."

The papers caught him squarely across the nose.

"So you do have a spine after all." He covered his nose, fuming. "Since you're so eager to walk out with nothing, I'll freeze every joint account and credit card under your name. Right now."

He called building security.

Two guards appeared at the door, clearly uneasy, their bear-ears pinned back with discomfort.

Christopher pointed at me.

"My contract with this woman is already dissolved. She came here to harass my mate and me. Get her out."

They locked their hands around my arms and dragged me toward the exit.

"Grace, without me, you won't last a week." Christopher's voice chased me down the hall. "I'll wait for you to come crawling back tomorrow, begging me to rebond. As for the book — consider it your bonding gift to Emma."

The door slammed behind me.

I stumbled on the curb and fell hard into a puddle of muddy water, my palms and knees sinking in.

I pushed myself up, one hand braced over my stomach, and started walking toward the road.

A van swung around the corner at full speed.

Brakes shrieked through the night.

Out of control, it came hurtling straight at me.