Cedar’s POV

I stood outside Room 412 in the Preston Hotel, checking the email on my phone one last time: [Emily Parker, Wilson Group Design Liaison. Room 412, 7:00 PM.] I was meeting a woman executive specifically to avoid another uncomfortable situation with Brad Wilson. Taking a deep breath, I raised my hand to knock when I heard unmistakable moaning and heavy breathing from inside.

This was definitely not the sound of business negotiations.

I lowered my hand, clutching my portfolio closer to my chest. Eight million dollars—my freedom price—suddenly seemed too costly. I wanted to leave, but that meant returning to the Wright family’s control, continuing to be treated as an exploitable asset. To completely break free from my adoptive parents, I couldn’t give up easily.

But clearly, this wasn’t an appropriate time for a business meeting.

“I’ll reschedule for tomorrow,” I whispered to myself, turning to leave.

At that moment, the door swung open. A blonde woman in a revealing dress leaned against the doorframe, her smoky makeup smudged and lipstick smeared down to her chin. She looked me up and down with contempt.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, her voice raspy.

The sounds inside abruptly stopped. Brad appeared behind her, hastily tucking in his shirt. A flash of embarrassment crossed his face when he saw me, quickly replaced by a confident smile.

“Ms. Wright, you’re earlier than expected,” he said, his gaze assessing me like merchandise. He turned to the blonde and another woman inside the room. “Ladies, our time together needs to end. Business hours now.”

I felt my chest tighten with anger and fear. “I’m supposed to be meeting Emily Parker. Where is she? Why are you here instead?”

Brad smirked as the women gathered their belongings. “Emily works for me. She’s… indisposed tonight. I decided to take this meeting personally.” The women exchanged knowing glances, deliberately bumping my shoulder as they passed.

“Mr. Wilson,” I tried to keep my voice steady, “perhaps we should reschedule since I was expecting Ms. Parker.”

Brad fastened the last button on his shirt and shook his head. “I’m afraid that won’t work. I’m flying to Los Angeles tomorrow with Emily, and I have meetings on the East Coast next week. It’s now or three weeks from now.” He smiled, showing perfectly white teeth. “Can your company wait that long?”

He knew the answer. Reluctantly, I followed him into the room, the sound of the door closing behind me like a trap snapping shut.

It was a business suite, but the atmosphere was all wrong. The air smelled of alcohol and perfume, empty bottles scattered on the sofa, a silk scarf forgotten on the carpet.

I took a deep breath, attempting to steer the conversation back to professional territory. “I’ve brought the complete design proposal for the Wilson Group,” I opened my portfolio, displaying meticulously created 3D renderings. “We’ve incorporated reclaimed walnut and brushed steel to echo Chicago’s industrial heritage—”

“Get lost!” Brad shouted toward the door. “I said no interruptions!”

The knocking paused for a second, then returned more determined and urgent. My heart raced wildly in my chest, that sound like a lifeline.

Brad cursed, still pinning me down. “Don’t think someone will save you,” he threatened in a low voice. “I paid the front desk enough to ensure no disturbances.”

The knocking turned into heavy pounding, as if someone was trying to break in.

I closed my eyes and prayed silently. Please don’t let whoever is outside leave. Please help me.

The doorknob began to turn, distracting Brad. I seized the moment to take a deep breath, preparing to fight back with everything I had left.

Suddenly, the door opened, and there stood a man I had never expected—Ridley Sterling.