Chapter 63 64
Instead, she kissed me—slow and commanding. The kind of kiss that says I own you, not I want you. The kind that blurred the line between seduction and strategy.
And I let her. Because I didn’t have a choice. Because I needed her distracted. Because if she suspected anything—if she so much as felt a shift—I’d be dead. Or worse, dismembered and dumped in a swamp, courtesy of the mayor’s connections.
She pulled back with a satisfied hum. “You taste like guilt.”
I forced a grin. “Just cheap coffee.”
She laughed and grabbed my hand, leading me toward the bed. “Then let’s wash it off, shall we?”
I followed, jaw clenched, heart pounding. Because tonight, I had to sell the lie harder than I ever had before. Because the lion in silk was hungry again. And I was the idiot who poked her pride with a stolen $8,000.
Krystal POV
The base smelled like cold jasmine tea, buttered popcorn, and betrayal.
I leaned forward, elbows resting on the scratched metal desk as the surveillance feed rolled. The screen showed Darren slipping into a five-star suite like he owned it—and the mayor’s wife already waiting, wrapped in silk and secrets.
Tomas sat behind me with his feet on the armrest, the smug sound of him munching popcorn like this was just another K-drama episode we were all supposed to enjoy. “Darren’s surely fucked up,” he muttered, bits of corn stuck in his teeth. “He took the bait. He withdrew eight thousand from the mayor’s offshore account.”
I didn’t even blink. “That’s all?”
“He was probably testing the waters,” he said. “Like a rat sniffing cheese.”
Tita Maribel shifted beside us, wrapped in a knitted purple shawl and fanning herself despite the aircon blasting like a snowstorm. Her eyes were locked on the TV where Gong Yoo was currently hacking zombies with a bat. She wasn’t giggling anymore.
“Diyos ko,” she whispered. “I hope he survives this one. He’s too handsome to die.”
“He already died in the last movie,” Dana reminded her from the beanbag floor pillow. “That one with the train.”
“This one is different,” Tita said solemnly, eyes misty. “He’s a soldier now.”
I tuned them out and zoomed in on Darren’s movements. He tossed his blazer on the hotel chair, loosened his tie—arrogant as ever. Then I saw it. The flicker of hesitation in his hands as he checked his phone. Just a flicker.
That was all I needed.
“Empty the account,” I said quietly.
Tomas looked up. “Wait, for real?”
I tilted my head, watching the camera feed like it was a painting I was dissecting. “He already made a move. That’s traceable. The bank's AI system would flag him in about fifteen minutes tops. They’ll freeze it. Might as well help ourselves before it happens.”
He blinked, then grinned. “Damn, you’re dangerous when you’re cold.”
“I’m always cold,” I muttered, leaning back as I typed in the mirrored access key. “Start funneling the money—use your shell accounts. Cayman. Zurich. Nairobi. I don’t care. And donate two grand to the fake children’s charity we set up in Switzerland. Let’s make it poetic.”
Behind me, Tomas muttered something about needing another bucket of popcorn. His fingers flew across his keyboard.
The screen changed angles. Darren was halfway out of his shirt now. The way his shoulder blades moved—taut, familiar. Too familiar.
That’s when it hit me.
A wave. Not of guilt, no. I buried guilt years ago. It was something uglier. Something more pathetic. Pain.
Longing.
Stupid girl.
He had betrayed me.
Stolen from me. Used me. Put a heartbroken bullet in me—metaphorically and drown me to the fucking river. And even now… even now there was this pathetic little string inside me that still wanted him.
“Damn you, Darren,” I whispered.
I stood up.
“Where you going?” Dana asked, peeling dried mangoes open with her teeth.
“Out.”
“You okay?” Tita Maribel looked up from the TV, concern suddenly replacing zombies in her face.
“Of course,” I said, grabbing my keys and sunglasses. “I just need air.”
The others didn’t stop me.
They knew better.
The garage lights blinked awake as I approached. My red Range Rover gleamed like a weapon of vengeance. I drove through the city with a foot on the gas and no patience for the world. Manhattan at night was a heartbeat away from madness—cubs buzzing like insects, the neon lights bleeding into puddles of rain, the streets alive with corruption and luxurious shops.
I parked straight into the private lift of my penthouse.
The city looked quiet. Like none of it mattered.
I stepped inside and kicked off my heels without caring where they landed. The silence here was loud. Too loud.
I poured myself a glass of wine I didn’t want. Stared at it like it owed me answers.
Then I opened the private server from my tablet and loaded the hotel footage again. Just to see.
Why?
I didn’t even know.
His back. The curve of his neck. The way his lips moved when he lied.
I had loved that mouth.
I threw the tablet across the couch—not enough to break it, but enough to tell it I was pissed.
Then I stood in the center of the room, the lights from the skyline painting streaks across the marble floor, and whispered the question I had avoided for years.
“Why did you do it?”
Not to him. He wasn’t here. Just to the ghosts in my chest.
Why did you betray me? Why did you kill the girl who would have burned the world for you?
I finished the wine. Poured another.
Outside, the wind howled like it was laughing. I walked to my glass wall and stared down at the blinking lights of the city.
Somewhere in one of those buildings, he was lying to someone else. Somewhere, he was thinking he got away with it again.
But the game had already begun.
He just didn’t know it yet.
I smiled—not the sweet kind. The kind that burned slowly, like acid dipped in honey.
You’re in my trap now, Darren.
And this time, I wasn’t coming to love you. I was coming to end you.