Chapter 10 Breakfast Sabotage
Alessia didn't sleep.
She lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, hyper-aware of the bug hidden behind her headboard. Every breath felt monitored. Every movement calculated.
At 3 a.m., she heard footsteps in the hallway outside her room. Heavy. Deliberate.
Liam.
He paused outside her door—she could see the shadow of his feet in the gap beneath it.
He stood there for a full minute.
Then he walked away.
Was he checking on her? Testing her? Or just as sleepless as she was?
She didn't know.
And that uncertainty gnawed at her.
Morning came too bright, too fast.
Alessia rose at six, showering quickly and dressing in tailored black pants and a cream silk blouse. Simple. Professional. The kind of outfit that said I belong here without drawing too much attention.
She fastened the emerald necklace around her throat, the weight of it a constant reminder.
I'll know where you are at all times.
She stared at her reflection, forcing her face into neutral calm.
Then she walked out into the common area.
The kitchen was open-concept, all marble countertops and stainless steel appliances. Liam was already there, dressed in dark slacks and a white dress shirt, sleeves rolled to his elbows.
He stood at the counter, pouring coffee from an expensive espresso machine, a leather-bound ledger open beside him.
He didn't look up when she entered.
"Morning," Alessia said, her tone carefully polite.
"Morning," he replied, not looking at her.
She moved to the opposite side of the kitchen, opening cabinets until she found a mug. The silence between them was heavy, oppressive.
She poured herself coffee, black, and leaned against the counter.
Liam was focused on the ledger, his pen moving across the page in sharp, precise strokes. Numbers. Names. Notations she couldn't read from this distance.
She needed to see what was in that ledger.
"Sleep well?" she asked, taking a sip of her coffee.
"No."
"Me neither."
"Shocking," he said dryly, still not looking up.
Alessia moved closer, casually, setting her mug on the counter near his ledger. "What are you working on?"
"Nothing that concerns you."
"We're married now. Everything concerns me."
"No." He finally looked up, his blue eyes cold. "We're legally bound. That doesn't make us partners."
"Right. I forgot. You don't trust me."
"And you don't trust me."
"Then we're even."
Liam's jaw tightened. He turned back to his ledger, flipping a page.
Alessia caught a glimpse—names, dates, dollar amounts. One name stood out.
Mateo Vargas.
Her pulse spiked.
Mateo Vargas. Colombian cartel. Mid-level operator in New York. The FBI had a file on him three inches thick.
Why was his name in Liam's ledger?
She needed to see more. Needed to memorize the details. But she couldn't just lean over and stare without raising suspicion.
She reached for her coffee mug.
And "accidentally" knocked it over.
The hot liquid spilled across the counter, directly onto the open ledger.
"Shit!" Alessia gasped, grabbing napkins. "I'm so sorry—"
Liam moved like lightning.
He snatched the ledger up, coffee dripping from the pages, his face going dark with fury.
"What the hell did you just do?" His voice was low, dangerous.
"It was an accident!" Alessia's hands trembled as she reached for more napkins. "I didn't mean—"
"Accident." Liam slammed the ledger down on the dry part of the counter, his eyes blazing. "You expect me to believe that?"
"It was an accident!"
"You're a trained liar, Alessia. Everything you do is calculated."
She froze, her heart hammering. "What?"
"You heard me." He stepped closer, his presence overwhelming. "You think I don't see it? The way you watch. The way you listen. The way you move through this world like you're gathering intelligence."
"You're paranoid."
"Am I?" He grabbed the ledger, shaking coffee droplets from it. "Or am I right?"
Alessia forced herself to look hurt, vulnerable. She let her eyes fill with tears—a trick she'd learned years ago. "I spilled coffee, Liam. That's it. I'm exhausted. I barely slept. I'm trying to adjust to... this." She gestured vaguely at the penthouse, at him. "And you're treating me like a criminal."
"Maybe you are."
The words hung in the air like a noose.
Alessia's breath caught. "What?"
Liam set the ledger down carefully, his movements controlled but his eyes were wild with suspicion. "I don't know what your game is yet. But I know you're playing one."
"I'm not—"
"Don't lie to me." His voice was sharp, cutting. "I've been in this world long enough to recognize a player when I see one. And you? You're too calm. Too composed. Too perfect."
Alessia's hands curled into fists at her sides. "Maybe I'm just trying to survive."
"Or maybe you're spying."
Her blood ran cold.
He couldn't know. There was no way he could know.
"For who?" she asked, her voice steady despite the panic clawing at her throat. "My father? Your enemies? Who exactly do you think I'm working for?"
"I don't know yet." Liam stepped closer, invading her space. "But I will find out."
Before she could respond, his hand shot out, gripping her wrist.
Hard.
Alessia winced, pain shooting up her arm.
"Let go," she said quietly.
"Not until you understand something." His grip tightened, his eyes boring into hers. "I know you're not what you seem. And I will peel back every one of your pretty lies. Every. Single. One."
His thumb pressed against the pulse point in her wrist, feeling her heartbeat hammering against his fingers.
"You're scared," he observed, his voice soft and deadly. "Good. You should be."
He released her suddenly, stepping back.
Alessia cradled her wrist, her skin already reddening where his fingers had been.
For the first time since this nightmare began, genuine fear flickered in her chest.
Not fear of being caught.
Fear of him.
Liam grabbed the ledger, now ruined and coffee-stained, and turned toward the east wing.
"Clean up your mess," he said coldly. "And stay out of my business."
He disappeared down the hallway, his door slamming shut with enough force to rattle the walls.
Alessia stood there, alone in the kitchen, her wrist throbbing.
She looked down at the red marks forming on her skin.
Bruises. She'd have bruises.
She exhaled shakily, her mask finally cracking now that she was alone.
Or was she?
She glanced toward her bedroom, thinking of the bug hidden there.
Whoever was listening had just heard everything.
Alessia forced herself to move. She grabbed paper towels, cleaning up the spilled coffee with mechanical efficiency.
But her mind was racing.
She'd seen the name. Mateo Vargas. And numbers beside it. Big numbers.
Liam was doing business with the cartel.
That information was gold. Thorne would want to know immediately.
But she couldn't risk contacting him. Not yet. Not while Liam was this suspicious.
Not while someone else was listening.
She finished cleaning and moved to the window, staring out at the city below.
Her wrist ached.
Her heart pounded.
And for the first time, a small, terrifying thought crept into her mind.
What if I can't do this?
She pushed it away immediately.
She had to do this. For her mother. For justice.
Even if it killed her.
She touched the emerald necklace at her throat, feeling its weight.
A tracker. A leash. A reminder that she was never truly alone.
Alessia closed her eyes, steadying her breathing.
The war had begun.
And she had no idea who would survive it.