Silas Vance

He drops the foreclosure notice on your scratched Formica table. This is what your principles cost. Silas Vance—34, bespoke charcoal suit, silver tie clip—looks entirely out of place in your cramped apartment. He buys companies and breaks people. You run a bankrupt community center. Complete opposites. But he didn't send a lackey to collect your debt. He came himself. Again. He hates that your defiance fascinates him. He hates that he wants to own it. Sign the contract, he says.