CHAPTER TWENTY ONE:LIAM'S POV

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE:LIAM'S POV


The wine burned as it slipped down my throat, sharp and dry, but not enough to numb the ache curling in my chest.

I sat slouched on the far end of my couch, a leg draped over the armrest, the half-empty bottle on the coffee table staring back at me like it knew the truth. That I was waiting for someone who might never come.

The apartment was silent, save for the occasional sound of city traffic filtering through the windows. Silence used to be peace. Lately, it just felt like punishment.

I swirled the wine in my glass, watching the red cling to the crystal like blood. My thoughts kept drifting, always looping back to him. I felt stupid, I had money and influence, it usually got me everything I ever wanted but I can't say that now.

Ethan.I hated how his name still made my heart stutter.

I leaned my head back, eyes closing as images from the past flooded in. Quick flashes, his laugh during a successful meeting, his arms around me in bed, the way his fingers laced with mine when he thought no one was looking.

There had been joy. Brief, blinding moments of it. We’d stolen them in secret corners and borrowed time. It was never enough, but it was real. At least, I thought it was.

Now, I wasn’t so sure.

He always said he needed time. That the world he lived in wasn’t ready for the truth. That he wasn’t ready.

And I, stupid, hopeful me, believed he’d get there.

But hope had an expiration date.

I reached for my phone, the screen lighting up with the last message I’d sent him a week ago. The one I kept rereading like it would answer the questions he refused to:

I won’t wait forever. If I’m not worth fighting for, say it.

No reply. Well, Nothing but silence. Sometimes, silence does all the talking, we just seem to ignore it but I'm done doing that.

I bit the inside of my cheek until I tasted iron.

Maybe I was just a chapter he regretted. Maybe Diana was the ending he was chasing.

I barked out a bitter laugh, tipping my head back again. “Maybe I was just convenient,” I muttered to no one.

The glass shook in my hand. I gripped it tighter. My knuckles whitened as rage warred with grief. Every second without a reply felt like another quiet rejection. Like I’d been a secret, not a choice.

Maybe he never loved me the way I loved him. Fuck! All I was left with was a series of maybes.

The glass flew from my hand before I realized I’d thrown it. It smashed against the wall with a sharp, shattering crack, red wine streaking the paint like a crime scene.

And still, no message. No apology. No Ethan.

I stood, running a hand through my hair, pacing the floor like it would change anything, like I could walk the tension out of my bones.

Then my phone buzzed.

I froze.

For a second, just a split second, hope flared in my chest like a matchstick, foolish and fleeting.

I thought it was him.

But it wasn’t. It was an unknown number. Cold. Unfamiliar. And suddenly more dangerous than silence.

“Stay away from Ethan. People like you don’t get to touch things that don’t belong to them. Last warning.”

I stared at the screen, pulse hammering in my ears. The message was clean. No typos. No threats disguised as jokes. It was deliberate.

Who the hell…?

My chest tightened, and suddenly the wine didn’t matter. The broken glass didn’t matter.

Someone was watching. Someone knew.

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” I muttered, rereading the message like it would rewrite itself into something less sinister.

But it didn’t. It stayed there, pulsing on the screen. A threat, clear as day.

My mind spiraled. Was Ethan in danger? Did he know? Was he the one who sent it?

No. No, Ethan might’ve been a coward, but he wouldn’t threaten me. Atleast not like this.

Diana wouldn't go so extreme, if she wanted to threaten me she would have done it face to face.

Which meant someone else knew about us.

Someone who shouldn’t.

I snatched my phone and hit the speed dial.

“Liam?” came the groggy voice of Anthony, my assistant slash fixer for all things sensitive.

“I need you to trace a number. Now,” I said, voice tight with urgency.

“What number?”

I read it out loud, pacing like a caged animal, the words searing into my brain as if they’d been etched there with a knife.

Anthony was quiet for a beat. “What happened?”

“Just trace it. Someone sent me a threat. It’s connected to Ethan. I want to know who the hell has the balls to come after me and why.”

“I’m on it,” he said without hesitation. “I’ll call you back in fifteen.”

I hung up and sat back on the couch, jaw clenched, heart racing like a drumbeat in a war zone.

Whoever it was… they knew enough to make it personal.

They knew I cared. And now, they were using it like a loaded weapon pressed to my chest.

I leaned forward, elbows digging into my knees, phone clenched in both hands as if I could crush the message itself.

There was a time I’d have burned the world for Ethan. Hell, maybe I still would if he’d just give me a reason. A sign. Anything.

But not if he kept hiding behind his father like a child playing pretend in a war of men.

Not if I was going to keep taking the hits alone, bleeding while he stayed shielded in silence.

And yet… even as the anger surged like wildfire through my veins, fear crept in behind it quieter, colder, more paralyzing.

Not for me. Never for me.

For him.

Because if someone was threatening me, crossing that line to pull me into their game… What the hell were they planning for Ethan?

And would I be fast enough to stop it?

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

ETHAN'S POV

The city's lights poured through the transparent curtains like ghosts. My bedroom was meant to be a haven, but tonight it was a golden cage with satin sheets and clamlike walls that listened too desperately.

I sat on the edge of my bed, forward, elbows on knees, phone in hand. Liam's message blazed at me from the screen.

It'd been a week. A whole week and I hadn't replied yet.

I couldn't. Not out of lack of wanting to. God, I wanted to. But I had no clue what to say.

Every word felt like a betrayal to someone.
To him, to myself, to the life I'd been pushed into like an actor placed on stage before learning the lines. The lights were bright, the audience was quiet, and I had no lines.

The planning for the wedding was careening out of control like a runaway train. Tuxedo fittings. Cake tastings. Revisions to the guest list. Diana had taken over every detail like she was planning a royal coronation instead of a wedding.

And she was calling the shots. And I hated it, but I had no choice.

Diana had pinned me so precisely I couldn't tell when the illusion of choice was gone. I used to think I had time, time to get it sorted out, to make sense of all of this. But time was a luxury, and Diana did not deal in luxuries.

She dealt in ultimatums, in veiled threats wrapped in smiles, in checkmate moves disguised as flirting. She applied control like a scalpel, precise, silent, agony-free.

My hold on the phone tightened. I read Liam's text message again, my vision blurred. My chest felt like a ton, as if my ribs were a collapsing roof. My lungs were blocks and my throat was sand.

How in the God's name did I get here? And how could I not go?
The door creaked open behind me.

No knock. No warning.

I glared up, about to yell who the hell did it occur to someone to just walk in… and stopped.

Diana stood there, her back bathed in the light from the hallway, wearing nothing but wine-red lingerie and a face that informed me she was here for something bad.

"Wow," she breathed, eyes scanning me like she was amused by what she saw. "You look like you've seen a ghost, honey."

I did not respond.

"What do you want?" I asked, in a low voice.

She came in and shut the door behind her. "It's showtime, baby. And I wanted a little fun with my man first."

She moved closer, hips moving like a snake through silk. I rose, my heart thumping with embarrassment and not lust.

"I am not in the mood, Diana," I answered.

Her hand swept across my chest. "You never are. But your body doesn't agree."
She leaned in, lips brushing the corner of my mouth. I turned away from her, jaw locked.

"Stop."

She laughed, and a cold kind of teasing tone was in her voice. "Oh, Ethan, come on. We're getting married. You don't think you will get married and stay grumpy, do you?"

Her hand wandered down. I caught her wrist, but she twirled it free, lithe and self-assured, fingers gliding over my waistband.

"You're so tight," she whispered. "Let me relieve you."

"No."

She knelt down.

Before I could fight back, she had her lips on me and my body outwitted my brain before my mind could struggle back into dominance. My body didn't recognize the difference between giving in and giving permission, and I did not want this, but shame wrapped around me like a wildfire and consumed my decency. My knuckles folded under into fists beside me, and I glared at the ceiling, trying to disappear, to not scream.

When she stood, pleased and smug, her eyes glinted with triumph. "See? You're not completely useless. There's still some action left in you."

She pushed me back onto the bed and rode me like a conqueror planting her flag.

I didn't stop her. I should've but the storm raging within me had silenced the sirens.

Slipping past, mouth on my neck, her name in my ear, I never saw her.

I saw Liam.

The way his fingers would tremble on the night that we kissed over the hosptal bed as we reaffirmed our love to each other. The comfort of his smile when he laughed at my horrible jokes. The softness of his tone as he said my name like it was important to him.

Diana wasn't even present any longer.

In my mind, I was at his side, chest to chest, breath to breath.

And then I said it.

So softly I didn't even mean to…

"Liam."

She froze. Silence broke the room like thunder.

She pushed away from me as if I'd burned her, eyes wide with anger and astonishment.

"What did you just say?" she spat.

I sat up, pounding chest. "Diana."

"Liam? You were thinking about him when you were inside me? Are you joking?"

She was pacing now, fists tangled in her hair, disgust radiating off of her like heat from a wildfire.

"Am I not enough?" she spat, voice cold and splintering. "Is this…" she pointed at her body, a trembling, angry line from shoulder to hip, "not enough for you? You have the audacity to think of another man when I'm in your bed?"

"I didn't mean…"

"Save it," she snarled, venom chilling every syllable as she marched towards the door. "You irritate me."

And then she was gone, slamming the door so loudly the walls vibrated and the windowpanes rattled in their frames.

I sat there, by myself, dripping with sweat and humiliation. My body still vibrated with the raw memory of her touch, but my soul hurt hollowed out, scraped clean, used. Reduced to bone and nerve.

My phone buzzed on the nightstand, a jarring hum against silence.

I took it in shaking fingers, the screen glowing like embers in darkness.

A new message. Unknown Number:

"Get your head in the game, Ethan. Or I'll destroy what's left of you."

I stood there, breath stuck in my lungs, thudding heart like fists against a stubborn door.

My world was shattering walls closing in tightly, choking, merciless.

And I didn't know if I'd survive the meltdown.

Who the fuck was this one, Diana?

Or was there someone else out here, playing a whole lot trickier game?

CHAPTER TWENTY THREE

LIAM’S POV

Anthony’s voice came through the line, muffled with static and taut with frustration.

“Liam, I’m telling you, I’m trying. I’ve been on it since the message came through, but this isn’t some amateur prank call. The number’s encrypted. Every time I try to trace it, it bounces off a different server, masks itself with another location. It’s like chasing smoke.”

I stood by the window, staring out at the city that never slept. My jaw was tight. My eyes locked onto the neon skyline like I could squeeze answers out of the night. “You expect me to believe you can’t trace one number? We’ve cracked harder systems in less time. Stop stalling.”

“I’m not stalling,” Anthony snapped. “This isn’t your usual encryption, man. It’s layered military-grade masking protocols, private rerouting, ghost servers. Whoever sent that message doesn’t want to be found, and they’ve got serious tech.

But I’m reaching out to our secondary channels. I already pinged one of our ex-agents who specializes in black market encryption. If anyone can uncover this, he can.”

I let out a breath, hard and slow. My fingers drummed a frustrated rhythm on the glass. “You’ve got twenty-four hours. That’s it. Our assistants are the best. I refuse to believe we can’t outmatch some coward hiding behind a signal mask.”

“I hear you,” Anthony said quickly. “I’ll update you the moment I get a lead. You have my word.”

I ended the call without another word.

Silence settled around me, cold and heavy.

My thumb hovered over Ethan’s contact.

Should I warn him? Should I tell him about the message? About the threat?

But no. Ethan would spiral. He was already on edge, emotionally brittle. If this was some bluff meant to rattle us, we’d be doing exactly what they wanted, panicking.

I pocketed my phone.

I’d handle it. Quietly. Alone.

Let Ethan keep living in the illusion a little longer. Let him breathe, his wedding was coming soon.

Turning from the window, I headed toward my study. I needed the distraction. I needed something I could control.

The study greeted me with dim lamplight and rows of confidential files. I powered up my laptop, scrolling through layers of internal security logs. My mind split itself half searching for holes in our firewall, half rehearsing every worst-case scenario.

I hated not knowing. I hated feeling one step behind.

And most of all, I hated that Ethan was in the middle of this and didn’t even know it.

DIANA'S POV

I lay on my side, eyes fixed on the pillow beside me, still faintly indented from where he’d rested his head.

The space still smelled like him, his cologne, his shampoo, the hint of something warm and masculine but it didn’t feel like him.

My fingers tightened around the edge of the sheet, twisting it into knots. My body still hummed with the aftershocks of what happened between us, a tangled mess of pleasure and pain, but my mind... my mind was boiling.

He’d been cold. Detached. Like I was a stranger in his bed.

No, worse. Like I was a burden.

And just when I thought I could thaw the distance between us, he whispered it.

Liam.

His name, soft, like a confession.

But loud enough to shatter me.

Liam.

It wasn’t just a name. It was a ghost in the room. A truth he hadn’t meant to give away.

I sat up, my breath catching in my throat, the sheets falling from my chest.

Of all the things Ethan could’ve said… of all the people he could’ve thought about… it was him.

I threw the sheets off and stood, pacing the room. My robe slipped from my shoulders but I didn’t care. My skin felt like it was burning from the inside out. Embarrassment, rage, betrayal, all tangled into one wildfire that crackled beneath my ribs.

How dare he?

Was I not enough? Was I not woman enough?

I had given him everything. My time, my body, my loyalty. I had played the perfect fiancée, smiled through the endless preparations, made him feel like a king.

And for what?

So he could lie beneath me and think of someone else?

No.

Hell no.

I grabbed my robe, cinched it tight around my waist, and marched to the mirror.

I looked at myself, eyes wild, hair tousled, skin still marked with his touch.

But I didn’t see a woman scorned.

I saw a storm. A force. A fire waiting to consume.

“I’ll ruin him,” I whispered.

Let him love Liam. Let him daydream about stolen moments and whispered memories. But that was all it would ever be, a fantasy. A flicker of something forbidden, forever out of reach.

Because I was here. I was real. And I wasn’t going anywhere.

I would haunt every breath he took, lace every second with reminders that I was the one who stood beside him, the one who knew his weaknesses, his secrets. He could run to Liam in his mind but in reality, Ethan was mine.

And I never lose.

“He still has eyes for Liam,” I said louder, spitting the words like poison. “But I’ll blind him to everything else.”

I’d make sure every attempt they made to reconnect was intercepted, frustrated, shut down. I would infiltrate every space between them, choke every breath they tried to share. I’d be the silence in their calls, the glitch in their texts, the weight that made Liam hesitate. I wouldn’t just stand in the way, I’d become the wall.

If Liam dared to come close, I’d remove him.

Cleanly. Efficiently.

Like a shadow vanishing before sunrise.

And Ethan…? He would learn. Slowly. Painfully. He’d learn what it meant to belong to me, to wake every day in a love forged by control, not choice.

No more distant stares. No more ghosting through our moments. I’d chain him with guilt, with obligation, with the weight of a wedding gown he never asked for. He’d forget what freedom felt like.

And he’d smile for the cameras.

He’d kiss me at the altar.

And Liam would fade, just like every other thing Ethan once cared about. Reduced to ash in the fire I built.

I pressed my palms against the mirror, leaning in so close our breaths could’ve fogged it up. My reflection stared back wide eyes, parted lips, pulse raging like a storm under my skin.

“They think this is a game,” I whispered, voice low and steady. “But I’ve already rewritten the rules.”

And in my version, there’s only one winner.

Me.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

ETHAN’S POV

The bed felt colder than usual.

Maybe it was guilt. Maybe it was shame. Maybe it was the way Diana had stormed out last night, leaving nothing but the echo of Liam’s name hanging in the air like a curse.

I sat up, my sheets tangled at my waist, and stared at the phone on my nightstand. It mocked me. I still couldn’t reply to him yet I called his name in a moment of passion.

I didn’t know how. What do you say to someone you love when you keep choosing everything except him?

The wedding was speeding toward me like a bullet train, and I was chained to the tracks. The preparations, the public appearances, the expectations Diana had tightened the noose so elegantly I hadn’t even noticed I was suffocating until it was too late.

And then I said his name.

Right there. In the heat of the moment. With her hands on me. Her mouth…

God. I buried my face in my palms.

The door creaked open, and my heart skipped.

But it wasn't Diana. Not yet.

After dragging myself through a shower and throwing on something passable, I headed down to the dining room where she was already seated, poised like a queen ruling from her throne. A glass of orange juice in one hand, a buttered croissant in the other. Her smile was slight, but the gleam in her eyes was unmistakable.

Deadly.

I cleared my throat. "So... what now?"

She didn’t look up. "What do you mean?"

I forced a breath through my nose. "You know what I mean. Last night… I know you’re upset. I know I screwed up. Just what's your plan?"

She set the croissant down delicately. Then she finally met my eyes.

"Ethan," she said with a tone so sweet it could slice skin, "has anyone ever hurt me and gone unpunished?"

I didn’t answer. Because we both knew the answer.

"But," she continued, dabbing her mouth with a cloth napkin, "today isn’t about punishment. Not yet. Today is about us."

I stared.

"We’re going shopping. I need to finalize some jewelry choices for the wedding. And you, my darling, are going to come with me."

"You want to go out together?"

She smiled. "Of course. We’re the happy couple, remember? The power duo everyone is watching. You don’t think I’d deprive the world of that, do you?"

It wasn’t a request.

……….

The boutique smelled like expensive candles and ambition. Everything sparkled, not just the diamonds and gold, but the air itself.