Chapter 105 105. The Exchange
Lucien picked me up just after dark. He wore a cap pulled low, dark hoodie, and plain jeans. I had my hair tucked into a baseball cap, an oversized sweatshirt, and leggings. Two aggressively average people carrying a medium‑sized box that rattled faintly with every step.
The horse ranch Nadia chose sat on the city's edge. The lights glowed softly, kids squealed near the paddocks, couples strolled with paper cups in hand, and a few riders circled the arena. It looked like the last place you'd come to trade crime and revenge. Maybe that was the point.
"Impressive," a woman we walked past remarked. "Didn't think the disguise would fool you that badly."
We both stopped. I had barely noticed the woman sitting alone at a picnic table near the fence.
The woman pushed her hood back. The first thing I saw was the shine of her scalp-completely bald, not even a shadow of stubble. One iris was an unnatural icy blue, the other a deep brown. Contacts.
Nadia.
If she hadn't spoken, I would have walked right past her.
"Someone lost a fight with a razor," Lucien said, taking in her appearance.
"Dry," she rolled her eyes. "Come on. I don't have time for banter."
She led us to a picnic table tucked behind a line of hedges, away from the arena noise. Lucien set the box on the bench beside him. Nadia dropped a sleek briefcase onto the table and snapped it open.
First, she took out a small black USB drive and slid it toward us.
"That's the heart of it. Mirrored copies of everything I've gathered in five years. Financials, shell companies, offshore accounts, communication logs, recorded calls, videos, GPS traces, names, dates, trafficking routes, drop points, blackmail files, the whole ugly catalogue. All organized, all timestamped."
My fingers itched to grab it, this tiny thing that felt heavier than any other thing, but I held back.
She lifted the briefcase lid higher so we could see inside.
"This is the extra package your boyfriend requested," she went on. "House layouts. Property lists. Guard rosters. Their shifts, their habits. All of Ronan's current phones, including burners. His smartwatches, laptops, external drives, security tokens, recorders-anything that might hold something incriminating."
Lucien's attention sharpened. "You actually pulled all of it?"
"I cloned them first," she replied. "Then swapped them for identical hardware. Right now he's walking around with dead twins. He won't notice until something glitches. If he's paying attention, that's hours. If he's too busy playing family with Chief Justice Daddy and Victoria, maybe longer."
"And everything that can point back to Camila?" Lucien asked.
"Flagged," Nadia answered. "You and your lawyers can decide how deep to cut. My priority was making sure he can't drag her into hell just because he's going there."
Hope scraped against fear in my chest. This was real. This was happening.
Lucien reached for the USB, turned it once between his fingers, then slid it into his pocket like it wasn't the heaviest thing in the room. After that, he moved the box across the bench so it sat between Nadia and him and flipped the lid open.
Neat stacks of banded cash filled most of the space, the paper edges dull under the low light. On top sat an envelope.
"Three million, and your new identity."
Nadia plucked up the envelope, slid the passport out, and squinted at the name on the photo page. "Fanny Dawson?" Her face twisted. "You're kidding."
"It'll grow on you," Lucien grinned. "Or you'll be too busy staying alive to care."
She snorted, but tucked the passport away and ran a slow gaze over the money. Whatever emotion flickered across her face, she smothered quickly. With a nudge, she drew the box closer to her side of the bench, then closed her briefcase.
"Well," she straightened. "That concludes the business portion of tonight. Now I disappear, Ronan eventually chokes on consequences, you two run off to your mansion and breeding plans, and everyone's happy. Almost."
"Almost?" Why almost? What has happened again?
She looked straight at me. "If, for any reason, he doesn't get what he deserves-if someone cuts him a deal, if he walks, if you decide revenge is too messy and grow a conscience-then I come back. And I won't go for him first." Her gaze flicked down my body and back up. "I'll go for you."
My skin prickled, but before I could open my mouth, Lucien's voice slid in, smooth and sharp.
"Adorable," he murmured. "The goblin is threatening my woman."
Her eyes narrowed. "Goblin?"
"You shaved your head and showed up in colored contacts. If you wanted to look like a villain from a budget sci‑fi movie, congratulations. Just don't ever confuse yourself with someone we are afraid of."
They stared each other down for a heartbeat, dark amusement flashing across her features.
"When you finally torch his house," she rose on her feet but didn't take her eyes away from him, "do me a favor and film it. If we ever bump into each other again, I'd like to watch him burn with popcorn."
"Excuse me?"
Nadia arched a brow at me. "You really don't know your boyfriend's favorite cleanup method?"
"Ugh..." I looked at Lucien. "Explain."
"It's not that dramatic, my love."
"If it involves arson, it is dramatic."
He sighed. "Sometimes, when there are too many physical threads, the cleanest solution is to make sure they physically don't exist anymore."
"So you set them on fire??"
"It is a necessity," he admitted.
"Or eliminating your opponents and watching the symbol of their power go up in flames is ecstatic to you."
"Okay, okay..." He gave a helpless little half‑shrug. "It's more about the satisfaction, but I swear, I don't put the lives of innocent people at risk."
His cheeks grew a hint of red and his embarrassed 'oh my God, you just figured me out' hair scratch was sending me. His eyes held that sheepish look and it was the cutest little thing I'd seen all night. I just wanted to pinch, squeeze and bite those cheeks... but I decided to act mad instead.
"And you weren't planning to tell me? You were gonna do it all on your own... again?"
"Why should I put you in danger, Fiera?"
"I thought you said people won't be at risk?"
"Oh, I-" Mr. CEO was speechless. While I watched him scramble for words, I let out a helpless chuckle, unable to hide the ferality that had sat up in me. "What's funny, miss Sterling?" He raised a defensive brow.
Ronan's smug, monstrosity of a house engulfed in flames? Sign me up!
"We are torching it together."
"What?!" His eyes went wide.
"Ronan lit my life on fire and watched. I deserve front‑row seats when it's his turn."
Pride warmed his gaze. His fingers grasped my neck instantly, pulling my face closer to his lips.
"You're so sexy when you say that, Fiera-" he kissed me hard, and I melted into the warmth of his lips, until a retching sound interrupted us.
"You two are nauseating," Nadia muttered. "I'm leaving before I throw up on my money." She started walking away.
"Nadia." I called her, and she stopped with her back turned halfway. We still have unfinished business, and I'm not letting it go just like that.
"You helped frame me," I said, standing up on my feet. My fists clenched involuntarily. "You watched me get torn apart by the media. You followed me, sent men after me, stood by while I thought I'd killed someone. You're walking away with a new name and three million dollars. Are you really not even a little sorry?"
For a moment she just looked at me until,
"Do I look like I'm sorry?"