Chapter 62
Emily Windsor's POV
I could feel Luke's arms tightening around me, his solid chest rising and falling rapidly, his heartbeat pounding against my ear—heavy, insistent, almost violent.
"Aren't you afraid..." He lifted his head, his thumb pressing hard against my cheek, his dark eyes burning like embers. "That I really am what they say I am? That I'm just using you?"
"I'm afraid." I answered honestly, reaching up to smooth the furrow between his brows. "But I'm more afraid that while I hesitate, those predators lurking in the shadows will tear you apart until there's nothing left."
In that moment, I watched the raging fury and lethal coldness in his eyes melt into something raw and burning—something that looked dangerously close to devotion.
He crushed his mouth to mine.
His fingers traced my features over and over, almost greedily, as if memorizing every curve and hollow to brand into his very soul. The fear of nearly losing me bled through every ragged breath.
When he finally pulled back, his voice was hoarse, wrecked, carrying the weight of a vow. "Emily, you're mine."
Staring into his eyes, still rimmed with that dangerous red, my heart twisted into something soft and aching. I wrapped my arms around his lean waist and buried my face against his chest, breathing in that familiar cedarwood scent.
"I know," I whispered.
He exhaled, low and satisfied, as if I'd just granted him some impossible gift. His arms tightened around me again.
After a moment of quiet intimacy, he guided me to the sofa and picked up his phone, dialing Andy's number.
"Trace an anonymous email and the source of this flash drive." His voice had returned to its usual cold precision, devoid of warmth. "I don't care what it takes. Dig up whoever's behind this."
He ended the call and tossed the USB drive carelessly onto the coffee table.
"You think it's Hank?" I asked.
"He's probably just the decoy they pushed forward." Luke's fingers drummed lightly on the sofa's armrest, his gaze distant and calculating. "This forgery is too professional. The intel too precise. It doesn't have Hank's fingerprints—he's too old-school, too sloppy for this kind of operation."
His words confirmed my suspicion.
Hank was a dog let off the leash to test me.
"I remember," Luke said suddenly, eyes narrowing as if dredging up a memory, "after that board meeting, he approached me privately. Said if I'd scrap the restructuring plan and remove you from Victor Group, he'd rally support to secure my position."
My stomach dropped.
So after I publicly humiliated him, he'd still had the audacity to make that kind of move.
"At the time, I thought it was just desperate posturing." A cold smile tugged at Luke's lips. "Now I see his objective was clear from the start—get you out of the picture."
"Why?" I couldn't wrap my head around it. "I'm blocking his cash flow. It makes sense that he'd hate me. But to go this far—to forge evidence that could destroy you just to drive me away? What does he gain?"
Taking me down would just be petty revenge.
But this forged evidence, if taken as real and exposed, would obliterate Luke first.
Hank might be stupid, but surely he understood that when the nest burns, no one escapes unscathed. He was clinging to the Victor family tree for survival.
"That's exactly what strikes me as odd." Luke studied me, a flicker of scrutiny passing through his eyes. "He seems to believe that without you, I'm no longer a threat. Or that without you, I can be controlled again."
The logic was absurd. I was just a lawyer, an outsider Luke had only recently brought into the inner circle. How could they possibly see me as such a critical fulcrum—one capable of destabilizing Luke's entire foundation?
Unless...
Unless they knew something even I—even Luke himself—hadn't yet realized.
His phone buzzed. A message from Andy.
Luke glanced at the screen, and his expression turned glacial. "Found it. They scrubbed most of the digital trail, but left one loose thread. The relay server they used has a physical address—a tech company in the south district. It's owned by Hank's son-in-law."
Of course it was him.
I'd expected it, but having it confirmed still sent a chill down my spine.
"Smarter than I gave him credit for," Luke said with a cold laugh. "At least he knows to use a proxy." He tossed his phone aside and turned to me, his gaze blazing with intensity. "Emily, want to play a game?"
"What kind of game?"
"Cat and mouse." He leaned in close, his breath warm against my ear, his voice low and laced with dark promise. "They've gone to all this trouble to watch us turn on each other. They want to see me fall apart because of your 'betrayal.'"
He paused, gripping my chin and forcing me to meet his unfathomable gaze. "So let's give them exactly what they want to see."
My pulse spiked as understanding dawned.
"You mean..."
"Starting now, you need to show doubt. Hesitation. Distance." His thumb brushed across my lips, but his eyes remained sharp as blades. "You've got 'evidence' against me. You're shaken. You don't know whether to trust me or trust what you've seen. You're torn, conflicted." He held my gaze. "And you need to let certain people see that struggle—subtly, naturally."
It was an insanely dangerous plan. It meant walking the thinnest tightrope between enemy and lover.
"The question of why they're targeting you—we'll only get the answer when they think they've won. When they believe you're compromised." Luke's voice carried that unshakeable authority. "I need them to show their hand."
His voice dropped lower, edged with lethal control. "I'm going to make them deliver the answer themselves."
"What do you need me to do?" I kept my voice steady, pushing down the storm inside.
"Nothing deliberate." Luke's lips curved into a humorless smile, cold and predatory. "You just need to move out."
I froze.
"Move back to your place, or into that hotel Carl arranged for you." He watched me carefully, each word deliberate. "We need a clean break—one convincing enough that everyone believes it. You'll keep running the restructuring project, but we'll cut down on any unnecessary contact at the office."
My heart felt like someone had wrapped a fist around it and squeezed.
Logically, I knew it was the smartest move. Emotionally? I couldn't stand the thought of confirming what we meant to each other one moment, only to stage a breakup the next.
"Emily." He read my hesitation immediately. He leaned down and pressed a searing kiss to my forehead, his voice softer than I'd ever heard it. "It's temporary. Once I've dragged every rat out of the gutter, I'll come get you myself. I'll bring you home."
"Okay." I met his eyes, pushing down every flicker of vulnerability and replacing it with cold resolve. "I'm in."
Something like admiration—and barely concealed pain—flashed across his face.
"My weapon," he said quietly, something like pride threading through his voice. "You never disappoint me."
I didn't leave that night.
We both knew, without saying it, that this would be our last reprieve before the separation.
He held me, kissed me over and over, as if trying to leave marks deep enough to sustain him through all the lonely nights ahead.
The next morning, I walked out with my suitcase in front of all the household staff, my face carefully blank. Luke stood at the second-floor window, watching. He didn't come down.
I knew that the moment I stepped through those gates, the real performance had begun.