Page 43 of His By Contract

Georgia scrolled to the guest list and felt her stomach drop. These weren’t mere investors or business partners. The names represented banking families from Geneva, Milan, Paris, dynasties that controlled empires beyond public scrutiny. These were kingmakers, the invisible hands that shaped global finance from behind closed doors.

Adrian had purposefully stood apart from all of this, the legacy, the crown, the global network of power that Vincent wielded so effortlessly. Adrian hadn’t just chosen independence; he haddefied them by making Adler Capital a financial powerhouse in America.

Her grip tightened around her phone. This wasn’t a simple corporate takeover or business rivalry. This was a war of bloodlines, a grudge the Austrian Adlers had likely been holding onto since the day Adrian’s grandfather was cut off after challenging the dynasty’s leadership structure. Adrian hadn’t just started his own financial business; he’d surpassed them, but without the Adlers’ influence or control. And now, Vincent wanted it razed. This was dynastic revenge, pure and personal, a mission to erase the man who dared to succeed without the family’s permission.

Adrian wasn’t fighting for his company. He was fighting to prove that legacy should be earned, not inherited. And Vincent, backed by generations of European banking royalty, was determined to destroy him for it.

Her jaw tightened. She wasn’t a bystander anymore. This wasn’t some corporate game she could observe from the sidelines. This was her life too, the man she’d bound herself to, the future they shared, however complicated.

This wasn’t just Adrian’s battle. It had become hers the moment she signed that contract. Whatever Vincent intended for Adrian would splash onto her too, drowning them both in the aftermath.

If Vincent won, it wouldn’t just be stock that fell. It would be Adrian. The man whose touch she now craved, whose rare moments of vulnerability she treasured. The man who, despite everything, had become essential to her in ways she couldn’t fully comprehend.

It would be her. Her business, her mother’s care, her newfound stability, all of it hinged on Adrian’s continued power.

And she wasn’t willing to lose either. Not Adrian. Not herself. Not without fighting back.

The soft hum of Georgia’s sewing machine faded into silence. She sat still, the half-finished gown pooling in her lap, the needle suspended mid-stitch. Her fingers hovered over the fabric, suddenly unable to continue the pattern she’d been working on for hours.

Outside the window, storm clouds gathered: dark, heavy, and ominous. The sky mirrored everything simmering just beneath the surface of the penthouse. The weather forecaster had predicted rain, but this looked like something more violent brewing on the horizon.

The penthouse had been quiet, too quiet. For days now, Adrian had moved through it like a shadow, composed on the outside, but brittle around the edges. Georgia noticed how his shoulders tensed when his phone rang, how his jaw tightened when he thought no one was looking.

Georgia’s hands fell away from the sewing machine as Adrian’s words from last night echoed in her mind. They’d been in his study, the city lights casting long shadows across his face as he’d finally spoken about his family’s past.

“My grandfather Leopold was brilliant,” Adrian had said, his voice carrying an edge she rarely heard. “He saw what the dynasty was becoming—how Vincent’s father and his otherbrothers were twisting everything into a game of arranged marriages and political chess. When Leopold refused to let them dictate his alliances, they cut him off. Exiled him from his own family.”

Georgia had watched Adrian’s fingers tighten around his glass, the amber liquid catching the light.

“My father, Matthias, he chose a different path entirely. He met my mother in University, fell in love, moved to America. Simple as that. He wanted nothing to do with the power games, the legacy.” A ghost of a smile had touched Adrian’s lips. “He worked at a regular bank, lived in a regular house. Vincent’s family saw it as another betrayal, but my father just wanted peace.”

The weight in Adrian’s voice had made Georgia’s chest tight. This wasn’t just about business or money; this was about generations of control, of expectations shattered, of a dynasty fracturing under its own weight.

“Vincent never forgave what he saw as our branch’s desertion,” Adrian had continued. “He’s been trying to pull me back under central control ever since I started Adler Capital. My success outside his influence…” Adrian’s jaw had clenched. “It’s everything he despises.”

Her eyes blurred as she stared at her sketchbook, pages filled with designs she couldn’t focus on completing. The safety of this room, once a refuge, felt too small now. The walls seemed to close in, reminding her of her limitations, of all the ways she remained outside Adrian’s real battle.

She was part of this world, whether Adrian wanted her to be or not. And he was still fighting alone.

Georgia’s jaw tightened. Would he ever let her in? Or was she destined to remain on the sidelines, watched, protected, but never trusted? The thought burned through her, sharper than any needle she’d ever wielded.

She couldn’t battle Vincent. Couldn’t navigate boardrooms or demolish dynasties. Those weren’t her weapons. But she could remove a threat.

Her gaze sharpened as a name crystallized in her mind.

Richard Vaughn.

The man who started all of this. The one still circling, waiting, manipulating. The weakness in Adrian’s armor that she could address without permission or approval.

She knew what she had to do.

Georgia set the fabric down with care, smoothing it with hands that had suddenly stopped trembling. Not every weapon was forged in steel. Some were stitched in silk and strategy.

She wouldn’t wait for Adrian to ask.

If he wouldn’t let her fight with him, she’d fight for him.

CHAPTER 14

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