V... | -moneytalks- Dylan Daniels- Mila Marx- Indigo

He looked at her—really looked. Not as a journalist. As a woman who’d seen his numbers and stayed anyway.

She wasn’t a client. She was a problem. An investigative journalist with a reputation for making billionaires flinch. Her auburn hair was a mess of curls, her boots scuffed, and she carried a tattered notebook instead of a leather-bound NDA.

Because when Mila Marx kissed him that night, he didn’t hear a cash register. -MoneyTalks- Dylan Daniels- Mila Marx- Indigo V...

Something flickered behind his ribs. Not guilt—he’d cauterized that years ago. Curiosity. Dangerous, expensive curiosity.

She smiled. “Let the money talk for once. Not about power. About peace.” He closed the Indigo V. account the next day. Transferred the equivalent amount—every stolen cent—to a community water fund in the Central Valley. No press release. No tax write-off. He looked at her—really looked

He heard a beginning.

Dylan went pale. For the first time in a decade, his hands shook. She wasn’t a client

Silence. The city hummed below them, indifferent.