Chapter 94 Hypocrite

Chapter 94 Hypocrite

He caught my body with both hands, hauling me up in a brutal rush toward the edge of the helipad.

My fingers scraped against the deck as I grabbed for the railing, the cold bite of the metal jolting me back to reality. Every nerve screamed as I clawed my way out of the water.

The ocean fell away behind me. I dragged myself onto the deck, shivering so hard my teeth clashed. The wind tore at my wet skin, slicing through me like a blade.

A few feet away lay the wine-red dress I had abandoned earlier. I didn't even glance at it. All I wanted was to disappear.

Arthur vaulted up from the water with a predator's grace, his body completely bare under the glare of the searchlight. Every muscle was cut in sharp relief, dangerous and beautiful. Water streamed down the ridges of his abs, disappearing into the shadows below his waist.

He didn't spare a single look at the aggressive helicopter overhead. Instead, he strode straight to the wrecked dining table, seized the white linen tablecloth, and wrapped it around me from head to toe.

"Go to the cabin." His voice was low, cold, and edged with fire. In the molten amber of his eyes, fury churned… and held a flicker of concern I didn't want to see.

Above us, the helicopter's side door slammed open. A rope ladder dropped into the wind.

Allen descended in black tactical gear, moving with practiced efficiency. He hit the deck with a solid thud. Two more armed FBI agents followed, boots striking the metal in quick succession.

The searchlight shifted away from us, flooding the entire helipad in harsh white.

I stood there, wrapped in a tablecloth reeking of champagne and icy seawater, looking like some pathetic fugitive caught mid-crime, surrounded by toppled candles and shattered glass.

Arthur stepped in front of me, scooping up a white linen shirt from the deck. He shrugged it on without bothering to button it, the open front revealing the solid planes of his chest.

His gaze locked on Allen. The corner of his mouth curved into a cold, dangerous smile.

"Mr. Miller," Arthur said, voice cutting through the wind, "you boarded a civilian vessel without permission, blinded civilians with a searchlight, and came armed. I'm curious—when did the FBI gain that kind of authority?"

Allen's eyes slid past him, pinning me in place.

That look was a storm—anger, disappointment, pain… and the one thing I despised most. Pity.

"Sophia," he said finally, keeping his tone clipped and official, "we received intel that illegal transactions were happening on this ship. I need you to come with me for questioning."

Illegal transactions? My laugh was sharp, humorless.

He had chased me into international waters with an FBI helicopter for this? A flimsy excuse to drag me away from Arthur?

"Mr. Miller," I said, pushing past Arthur's arm to stand toe-to-toe with him, "you're mistaken. I'm here on a date… with my boyfriend."

I put weight on the words "boyfriend" and "date" like they were weapons.

Allen's jaw tightened, his knuckles whitening around his gun.

Behind me, Arthur let out a quiet, amused laugh at the word "boyfriend."

"Sophia, do you have any idea what kind of man you're with?" Allen's voice rose, sharp with outrage. "He's a devil. His hands are drenched in blood. Stay with him, and you'll be dragged straight to hell."

"Better hell with him than hypocrisy with you." My reply was pure ice.

"You—"

"Enough." Arthur's patience snapped.

He stepped forward, pulling me back behind him. His amber eyes were shards of frozen steel as he stared Allen down.

"Mr. Miller," he said, voice like steel, "my attorney will be bringing charges for your unlawful boarding tonight and for defaming my fiancée. Now take your men… and get the hell off my ship."

Fiancée?

My head jerked up. I stared at his back, stunned.

This bastard. What the hell was he saying?

Allen froze for a beat, then let out a laugh that was pure derision.

"Fiancée? Mr. Russell, what is this—some kind of billionaire romance drama?"

His smile was sharp and ugly. "You think I don't know your type? Mafia dons like you treat women as interchangeable ornaments."

He paused, his eyes locking back onto mine, his voice dropping to something heavy, urgent.

"Sophia, I'm not playing games. You need to leave. Now.

"We've formed a special task force inside the FBI. We have solid intelligence. A force unlike anything you've seen before is preparing to wipe out the Five Families of Asteria City.

"They're aiming to dismantle the entire underworld. Everyone will be pulled in. Everyone.

"Come with me now. This is the only chance I have to save you."

His voice echoed across the exposed deck, carrying the weight of something apocalyptic.

My stomach dropped.

A purge.

I'd heard whispers. But I hadn't realized it had come this far.

Now I understood why he had chased me so recklessly. It wasn't to arrest me. It wasn't to humiliate me.

It was his warning. His last attempt to pull me out.

I looked at the urgency burning in his eyes, at the man who had once betrayed me but now seemed desperate to protect me. My emotions tangled into something sharp and bitter.

In my head, I thought, 'Too late, Allen. The moment I stepped onto Arthur's ship, there was no turning back. I'm not the fragile Sophia you think you can save. My family, my vendetta, my future—they're all bound to him now.'

I drew in a slow breath, meeting his gaze head-on.

"Allen," I said, my voice so calm it startled even me, "thank you for your… concern. But my life is mine to handle."

It wasn't a rejection. It was a declaration.

A line in the sand—for him, and for the past I was leaving behind.

Allen stared at me, the light in his eyes dimming until it was gone. His hand lowered from his weapon as if it had been drained of all strength.

"Fine," he said, glancing at Arthur, then back at me. His voice came out rough. "Sophia, this is your choice. I hope you don't regret it."

He turned without another word, grabbed the rope ladder, and vanished into the night.

The helicopter's roar faded into the distance.

The blinding light finally died away.