Chapter 2 Red Tie And Blood

The laptop screen glowed like a secret in the dark. Geraldine's breath hitched as she paused the video and rewound it, unable to believe what she'd just seen. Her father-Grant Whitmore-on his knees, blood dripping down his temple, a split lip, and terror in his eyes. Bekett's voice echoed through the warehouse, cold and mechanical, like a man reciting the weather forecast.

"You made promises, Grant. You broke them."

Behind him, two men stood with assault rifles, faceless under shadows. Her father tried to speak-he was begging, Geraldine realized-but Bekett raised a hand, silencing him.

"This is business. You taught me that."

A gunshot. The screen shook. The video cut out.

Geraldine stared blankly, heart slamming against her ribs.

No one had ever told her the truth about her father's death.

She remembered the day like a scene sealed in glass-funeral flowers, the dry press release about a "tragic car accident," and Bekett standing beside her, hand on her lower back like support. Like a husband.

All lies.

Her entire marriage had been founded on one-inked in blood and secrets.

She didn't sleep that night. Instead, she sat by the bedroom window, watching the security guards pace the perimeter. The house felt more like a vault than ever. She thought about waking the girls and running-but where? Bekett owned everything. The house. The cars. The security. The schools.

The world.

And now she knew what he was truly capable of. Her father's murder wasn't business-it was betrayal tied up in a silk bow. And she was the prize, packaged in a marriage contract.

By sunrise, Geraldine had made up her mind. She couldn't play the quiet wife anymore. Not after this. There was no safety in silence.

But she would need leverage.

And she knew just the man to get it from.

Lachlan's building rose like a dark monolith in the middle of the city-a fortress of glass and secrets. Geraldine had only been there once, years ago, when he and Bekett first went into business. She remembered then how Lachlan had watched her-too closely. Like he saw through the diamonds and smiles.

This time, she didn't ask for permission. She simply walked past the receptionist, straight to the private elevator. One of the guards raised a brow, but didn't stop her. Geraldine Donovan still meant something in this city.

She stepped into his office without knocking.

Lachlan sat behind his desk, jacket draped on the chair, shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He looked tired-but amused.

"Well," he said, leaning back, "aren't you full of surprises."

"I watched the video."

He didn't pretend to be confused. He didn't even flinch.

"I assumed you would." Lachlan studied her face, as if cataloging every crack in her mask. "How much do you hate him now?"

"I want him ruined."

"That's a risky game, Mrs. Donovan."

"I'm already in the game. I just didn't realize I was the pawn."

Lachlan stood slowly, walking around the desk until he was only inches away. He didn't touch her-but his presence wrapped around her like smoke.

"And what would you trade, Geraldine?" he murmured. "For revenge?"

She met his gaze, chin lifted. "What do you want?"

His smile was sharp. "Everything he has."

Later that evening, as Geraldine picked up the girls from school, her face was calm, her smile intact. Reena chatted about math class and Lovia ranted about cafeteria food, and everything felt like a movie scene-perfect on the outside, twisted underneath.

Back at the house, she found Bekett in his study, a drink in hand, the fireplace casting a flicker across his face.

"You're home early," he said without looking up.

"I had a meeting."

He looked at her then, eyes narrowing slightly. "With who?"

"An old friend."

He sipped his drink slowly. "You're not as subtle as you think you are."

"And you're not as careful."

A tense silence fell between them. Geraldine saw the flicker of danger in his eyes-the same eyes Lovia had inherited. She hated that. Hated the thought that her children shared blood with a man who could pull a trigger on her father without blinking.

"Whatever you think you know-" Bekett began.

"I know you lied," she cut in, voice low. "About my father. About the marriage. About everything."

Bekett stood, slowly. "This life isn't kind, Geraldine. You were sheltered for a reason."

"I'm not sheltered anymore."

He walked toward her, slow and deliberate. "Be careful what you dig up. Some things are better buried."

She didn't back away. "So are you."