The Lover Who Became My Killer

The first time I kidnapped my lover's mistress, he had me killed for it. I gave him eight years, built his empire brick by bloody brick, and was secretly carrying his child.

But for a fragile art student, he had me drugged on a gurney.

I was awake as a back-alley doctor cut our baby from my womb. I heard our child's single cry, then silence.

"Anything that threatens her, I will destroy," he whispered, his voice void of all emotion. "Even you. Even our child."

He then left me for his men to violate and discard. My last thought was that I was just a queen he was willing to sacrifice for a pretty new pawn.

But then my eyes snapped open.

I was in my car, my stomach flat, my hands gripping the steering wheel. The date on my phone seared itself into my brain. I was back on the day of the first kidnapping.

This time, I wouldn't be a sacrifice. This time, I would survive.

Chapter 1

Alana Casey POV:

The first time I kidnapped Eliana Harrington, my lover-the father of my unborn child-had me killed for it.

Eight years. I gave Conrad Jensen eight years of my life. We built this empire together, brick by bloody brick. My hands are just as stained as his. I was his strategist, his enforcer, his other half. I took bullets for him, literally. The faint, silvery scar above my collarbone was a permanent reminder of the night I' d thrown myself in front of him in a deal gone wrong. We were a team. A unit. A force.

Then came the scent of lilies and watercolor paint clinging to his clothes.

It was subtle at first. A scent so out of place in our world of gunpowder, expensive cologne, and sterile cash that it was like a siren. He started coming home later. His phone, once left carelessly on the nightstand, was now always in his pocket, screen down. He' d smile at me, but the smile never reached his ice-blue eyes. Those eyes, which used to burn with a fire only I could stoke, were now distant, looking at something-or someone-else.

I put my people on it. It wasn't hard to find her. Eliana Harrington. An art student. All wide, innocent eyes and a fragile frame that looked like a strong gust of wind could snap her in two. The photos made my stomach clench. She was everything I wasn't. Soft. Pure. Untainted by the filth we lived in.

My second-in-command, Marcus, confirmed my fears. "He' s set her up in a penthouse downtown, boss. Pays her tuition, sends her flowers every day. The whole nine yards."

He didn't need to say more. Conrad had never sent me flowers. We dealt in ledgers and ammunition, not roses. The penthouse was one of our syndicate's secure properties, a place I myself had cleared for high-value assets. To know he was keeping her there, in our world, under my nose... it was a betrayal that tasted like acid.

So I did what I knew how to do. I eliminated the threat.

I had her brought to one of our warehouses. Tied to a chair, she just looked like a scared little girl. But I knew better. She was a cancer, and I was the surgeon.

That' s when Conrad burst in, his face a mask of fury I' d only ever seen him direct at our enemies. He didn' t even look at me. His eyes were locked on her, his fragile Eliana. He untied her with a gentleness that made my blood run cold.

Then, he turned to me. The slap was so hard my head snapped to the side, my ear ringing.

"Don' t you ever touch her again," he snarled, his voice a low, dangerous rumble. He held the crying girl against his chest, stroking her hair. "She' s different."

The words hung in the air, a death sentence for everything we had built.

I didn't listen. I was eight months pregnant with his child, a secret I was waiting to reveal on the anniversary of our partnership. I thought it would bind us, bring us back. I thought it would make him see that I was his future, not her.

I was wrong.

This time, when I went after Eliana, Conrad was ready. He didn't just get angry. He smiled. It was the coldest smile I had ever seen. He praised me for my initiative, told me I did the right thing by bringing a potential problem to his attention. He poured me a glass of water himself.

The drugs hit fast.

I woke up strapped to a gurney in that same warehouse. A back-alley doctor stood over me, scalpel glinting under the dim light. Conrad was there, holding Eliana' s hand, watching.

"You don' t learn, Alana," he said, his voice void of all emotion. "I told you she was different. I told you not to touch her."

I tried to scream, but my throat was paralyzed. Tears streamed down my face as the doctor cut into me. The pain was blinding, a white-hot agony that consumed everything. I felt them pull my child from my womb. I heard a single, tiny cry.

Then silence.

Conrad leaned down, his face inches from mine. "Now you understand. Anything that threatens her, I will destroy. Even you. Even our child."

He kissed Eliana softly and they turned to leave. "Have your fun, boys," he said over his shoulder to his men who had gathered in the shadows. "Just make sure she' s gone by morning."

They descended on me like vultures. As my world faded to a blackness filled with pain and violation, my last coherent thought was a bitter one. In his world, Conrad was a king. I was just the queen he was willing to sacrifice for a pretty new pawn. I never stood a chance.

Darkness.

Then, a sudden, blinding light. The squeal of tires on asphalt.

My eyes snapped open. I was in the driver' s seat of my car, my hands gripping the steering wheel. My heart was pounding like a drum against my ribs, my body slick with a cold sweat. The smell of leather and my own perfume filled my nostrils.

I looked down. My stomach was flat. No baby bump. No surgical scars. I fumbled for my phone. The date on the screen seared itself into my brain. It was the day of the first kidnapping. The day it all started to go wrong.

The warehouse was just ahead. My men were waiting for my signal. Inside, Eliana Harrington was tied to a chair, waiting for me.

My breath hitched. The phantom pain of the scalpel, the echo of my baby' s cry, the leering faces of Conrad's men-it was all so real. A wave of nausea washed over me.

No. Not again.

I wasn' t going to be a sacrifice. Not this time.

I took a deep, shuddering breath and picked up the walkie-talkie. "Let her go," I said, my voice hoarse.

"Boss?" Marcus' s voice crackled back, confused.

"You heard me. Untie her, put a bag over her head, and drop her off a few blocks from her apartment. Wipe the security footage. Erase any trace we were ever there. Now."

Silence. Then, "Understood."

I leaned my head back against the seat, my body trembling. One threat neutralized. Now for the other one. The tiny, innocent one growing inside of me. The one that had been used as a weapon to destroy me.

I pulled out my phone again, my fingers shaking as I Googled the number for the city's most discreet private clinic.

But this time, I wouldn' t go to the warehouse. I would let Conrad rescue his damsel in distress himself. Let him play the hero.

I wanted to see it with my own eyes.

From the shadows of an alley across the street, I watched. It didn' t take long. A black sedan screeched to a halt. Conrad leaped out before it had even fully stopped, his face etched with a panic I had never seen before. He ran inside, and a few moments later, he emerged, carrying a sobbing Eliana in his arms.

He held her like she was made of glass, whispering into her hair, his entire body a shield around hers. He placed her gently in the car, and just before he got in, he looked up, his eyes scanning the darkness. For a terrifying second, I thought he' d seen me. His gaze seemed to bore right through the shadows, filled with a murderous rage. He was looking for the person who had dared to touch his precious girl.

That look wasn' t for an enemy. It was for me.

My world, which I thought had already shattered, broke into a million more pieces. I watched them drive away, a perfect portrait of a hero and his rescued princess.

And in that moment, I knew. The eight years, the loyalty, the love I thought we shared-it was all a lie.

Tears streamed down my face, hot and silent. I stood there for what felt like an eternity, the cold night air seeping into my bones. Then, with a resolve forged in the fires of a horrific death, I turned away. My hand went to my flat stomach.

I made the call.

"I need to schedule an appointment," I said, my voice eerily calm. "As soon as possible."

The life I had with Conrad was over. My life as Alana Casey, his queen, was over. Now, only one thing mattered.

Survival.

And the first step was to erase every last piece of him from my body and my life, starting with our child.