Chapter 6 The Dinner Trap

The restaurant was too quiet for Liam's liking.

It sat on the edge of the Hudson, all glass walls and fake smiles-a luxury hideout for men who made their money in the shadows. Victor had chosen it for their "truce dinner," and Liam had agreed, though every instinct screamed trap.

Emily sat across from him, flawless in a wine-colored dress that made her look like sin draped in silk. She sipped water like she wasn't sitting three tables away from killers. But Liam could see it-the tremor in her hand, the tension in her shoulders.

"You good?" he murmured.

She nodded, eyes scanning the room. "If anything goes wrong, I want to stab someone with this fork."

"That's my girl."

Victor arrived late, of course, flanked by two men in tailored suits and dead eyes. He looked like he always did-expensive, smug, and rotting underneath. He kissed the air beside Emily's cheek as he sat, then turned to Liam with mock cheer.

"Isn't this nice? Family breaking bread together."

"Still debating if I'm going to poison yours," Liam replied flatly.

Victor laughed. "You always had a dark sense of humor."

"Try me," Emily said, sliding the butter knife a little closer.

Victor's smile twitched. "And you married a firecracker. I see the appeal."

They ordered. Small talk followed. Victor asked about their honeymoon. Emily spun some ridiculous tale about crashing a yacht in Santorini, and Liam went along with it, even though every muscle in his body was coiled for war.

Then came the shift.

Victor leaned in, voice low. "I heard a rumor, Liam. Something about a ledger. One with very dirty secrets."

Liam didn't flinch. "You shouldn't believe everything you hear."

"Except I've got a buyer. One who says you're willing to trade that ledger... for peace."

Emily's fork froze mid-air.

"There is no ledger," Liam said.

Victor's grin widened. "That's funny. Because the man who used to keep your books? He just turned up in my basement."

Emily's stomach dropped.

Liam's tone was ice. "You're bluffing."

Victor pulled out a phone, turned the screen toward them. A photo. A man, bound and beaten, blood dripping down his face.

"Recognize him?" Victor asked sweetly. "He told me a very interesting story. About offshore accounts. Blackmail. Dead judges."

Emily's pulse thundered.

"Then he told me where you keep your secrets."

Victor leaned back, smug. "Now I'm wondering, Liam... What's a fake wife really worth to you? Would you trade her for your empire?"

Liam stood so fast his chair tipped over.

The room went silent.

Victor didn't flinch.

"Careful," he said. "One wrong move and we're all headlines tomorrow."

Liam's voice was razor-sharp. "If you ever threaten her again-"

Victor raised a hand. "Relax. I'm offering you a deal. Give me the ledger, I walk away. No more blood."

Liam stared at him, jaw clenched.

Then he smiled.

"Fine."

Emily blinked. "What?"

Victor chuckled. "Smart man."

Liam leaned in, voice cold. "But you're not getting the ledger tonight."

Victor frowned.

"You're getting her."

The whole table stilled.

"What the hell-" Emily started, but Liam cut her off.

"She knows where it is. She knows the codes. She'll hand it to you personally."

Victor narrowed his eyes. "You expect me to believe you're giving me your wife?"

"She's not real, remember? Just paperwork and lies. You want your ledger? Take her. Just don't hurt her. That's my condition."

Victor was silent for a beat. Then nodded slowly. "Done."

Emily stood up. "Liam, what are you doing?"

"Trust me."

"Like hell."

He took her hand, pulled her close. Whispered into her ear, "This is the only way to get inside. You wanted in? You're in. Play along."

Her heart raced. His lips brushed her cheek-soft, lingering-and then he stepped back like she meant nothing.

Victor gestured. Two guards approached.

Emily let them escort her out, her spine straight even as her hands trembled.

She caught one last glance at Liam before the doors closed-his face unreadable, his eyes burning.

Outside, the night was cold.

Victor slid into the back of his armored car beside her. "You know, Mrs. Westwood, I think I like you more than your husband."

She turned slowly, a small, dangerous smile curving her lips.

"That's your first mistake."

He laughed.

She didn't.

Because Emily Torres had just been handed the keys to the devil's kingdom.

And she planned to burn it from the inside out.