Chapter 69
Emily Windsor's POV
The sharpest knot of doubt in my chest unraveled just like that, with Luke's casual explanation.
"You didn't...doubt me at all?" I couldn't help asking, my voice carrying a probing tension I hadn't noticed myself. "That photo, combined with all the 'evidence' in that anonymous email—it's enough to build a complete case that I approached you with ulterior motives from the beginning, that I was setting you up."
At that, Luke suddenly smiled.
He leaned in, his warm fingertips gently caressing my cheek with the tenderness of someone who'd nearly lost something precious.
"Emily," he said, looking into my eyes with each word deliberate as a vow, "I might doubt life itself, doubt the whole damn world, but I will never doubt my lover, my weapon."
My lover.
My weapon.
Those two titles—one soft, one sharp—overlapped perfectly in that moment, slamming straight into my heart.
Bittersweet emotion surged through me, drowning every ounce of rational thought.
All my pretense, all my strength, crumbled before those words of absolute trust.
My eyes burned without warning.
"He's my mentor, Professor Douglas," I took a deep breath, forcing down the lump in my throat, deciding to lay everything bare. "He's a consultant for the FBI now. They started with Nordic Shipping Company and followed the trail straight to the Victor family. To you."
I saw Luke's eyes darken, but he didn't interrupt.
"He approached me with so-called evidence, hoping I'd cooperate and get them concrete proof of your involvement in human trafficking from the inside." I told him everything—those suffocating meetings, the chess match between my mentor and me—holding nothing back.
"I told him those so-called evidence had holes big enough to drive a truck through. I couldn't treat you like a criminal without solid proof." I met his gaze, laying my heart open. "I asked him for three months. I said I'd help you dig out the rot in the Victor family, and if it turned out you really were the mastermind, I'd personally put you behind bars."
The car fell so silent I could hear both our heartbeats.
Luke's expression shifted from initial calm to shock, then to an indescribable euphoria mixed with something deeper.
The flame in his eyes reignited—a scorching intensity that could burn me to ashes.
He hadn't expected that while he was in the dark, I'd been standing alone against pressure from both the feds and my mentor, buying him the most precious commodity: time. He certainly hadn't expected that when the FBI came calling with threats and promises, I'd chosen to believe in him.
"Crazy woman," he murmured, echoing what he'd said that night in his study, though his tone now carried barely suppressed emotion and lingering fear.
He yanked me into his arms, holding me so tightly it felt like he wanted to fuse me into his bones, never to be separated again.
"My Miss Windsor," he buried his face in the curve of my neck, his voice rough and thick, "how can you be...so fucking perfect."
I could feel his solid chest heaving, his heartbeat pounding against my ear like a war drum.
I wrapped my arms around his lean torso, burying my face against his chest with its signature scent of cedar, and mumbled, "Because you're worth it."
The whole world might see you as a devil, but to me, until the dust settles, you're just my Luke.
As if receiving some divine blessing, his arms tightened around me even more.
After a long moment, he slowly released me, using his thumbs to trace my features over and over with near-greedy devotion, as if re-engraving my image into his very marrow.
"Let's go home," he said hoarsely, restarting the engine.
Back at the penthouse, he took my hand without a word and led me into his study.
I watched him walk to the wall and turn an ornamental piece on the bookshelf. The heavy shelf slid silently aside, revealing a cold steel safe behind it.
He entered a code, verified his fingerprint, and pulled out a navy blue folder, handing it to me.
"What is this?" I asked, puzzled, taking it from him.
"Open it," he said, his eyes carrying an expectation I couldn't quite read.
I opened the folder, and the moment I read the title on the first page, my breath caught.
It was a share transfer agreement.
The agreement transferred thirty percent equity in a newly established charitable foundation under Victor Group, along with several promising high-tech companies under its umbrella, to me—for free.
This document was worth enough to instantly catapult me into New York's upper echelon of wealth.
"This is too much, I can't—"
"Shh." He pressed a finger gently to my lips, cutting me off.
He took the document from my hands, flipped to the last page, and pointed to the signature line.
The date on it was the day after we'd officially become a couple.
My heart felt like it was being squeezed in a fist—aching, yet swelling with emotion.
So while I'd still been doubting him, testing him, he'd already prepared this astronomical gift.
"I've wanted to give this to you for a while," he said, his eyes brimming with undiluted affection. "But so much happened, I never found the right moment. Emily, this isn't a transaction or compensation. This is my pledge of allegiance."
He took my hand and placed the document back in my palm, his voice low and solemn. "I'm putting my cleanest assets, my most valued future, in your hands. From now on, you're its sole mistress."
I looked down at the document. The edges of the paper seemed to burn with heat, making my fingertips tingle.
"I can't accept this." I pushed the folder back almost immediately, my voice trembling without my realizing it.
Logic told me this gift was too heavy. Once I accepted it, I'd never be able to tell if what we had was love or a transaction.
But Luke held my hand firm, refusing to let me retreat. His deep eyes churned with stubborn currents, as if he believed this still wasn't nearly enough to bind me to him. "Emily, this is just the beginning."