Chapter 5 DANGEROUS ALLIANCES

Jack Morrison's office looked worse in daylight than it had the first time:stained carpet, flickering fluorescent lights, a filing system that appeared to be "organized chaos" at best.

But the man himself looked energized, spread across his desk were photographs, documents, and what appeared to be surveillance footage on a laptop.

"Mrs. Wolfe," he said, standing when they entered. "Congratulations on the baby. I saw the announcement."

"Thank you." Scarlett took a seat, Damien close beside her. "What did you find?"

Jack pulled out a thick folder. "Your stepmother is dirty. Very dirty. But proving she killed your father is going to be harder than I thought."

"Explain," Damien said.

"Victoria Hayes has been embezzling from your father's company for three years. Small amounts at first,five thousand here, ten thousand there but by the time your father died, she was siphoning off roughly fifty thousand a month." Jack showed them bank statements with highlighted transactions. "She was moving money through shell corporations, offshore accounts, the works. Very sophisticated for someone who supposedly had no business experience."

"That's what my father discovered," Scarlett said. "Catherine Ashford told me he called her the night he died, said he'd found something illegal in Victoria's finances."

"Exactly. I interviewed Mrs. Ashford yesterday. She's willing to testify that your father told her he was going to confront Victoria about the embezzlement." Jack pulled out another document. "Here's where it gets interesting. The night your father died, Victoria called someone at 9:47 PM. The call lasted twelve minutes. Phone records show it went to a burner phone-untraceable."

"Who was she calling?" Scarlett asked.

"My guess? Someone she hired to help her. The timing is too convenient. Your father confronts her about the embezzlement around nine-thirty-the housekeeper heard raised voices. Less than twenty minutes later, Victoria makes a call. An hour after that, your father falls down the stairs."

"You think she called someone to help her stage it?" Damien's voice was cold.

"I think she panicked when your father threatened to expose her, made a call, and then someone helped her make it look like an accident. Whether she physically pushed him herself or had help, I don't know yet. But that phone call is key."

Scarlett felt sick. Her father had been murdered, and Victoria had been calm enough to make a twelve-minute phone call afterward. "Can we trace the burner phone?"

"I'm working on it. But even if I find out who she called, proving they helped her commit murder is another story. We need physical evidence. Witnesses. Something concrete." Jack leaned back. "The good news is, the embezzlement alone is enough to get her arrested and put away for years. The bad news is, embezzlement doesn't feel like justice for murder."

"It's a start," Scarlett said. "How do we proceed?"

"I take this to the DA. They reopen the investigation into your father's death. With the embezzlement evidence and Mrs. Ashford's testimony, they'll have enough to justify a second look. But Scarlett-" He met her eyes. "This is going to get ugly. Victoria will fight back. She'll attack your credibility, your marriage, your motives. Are you ready for that?"

"I've been ready since she killed my father."

Jack nodded approvingly. "Then I'll set up a meeting with the DA for next week. In the meantime, you two need to be careful. Victoria knows you're closing in. Cornered animals are dangerous."

They left the office with copies of everything Jack had compiled. In the car, Scarlett stared at the bank statements showing her stepmother's systematic theft.

"Three years," she said quietly. "She was stealing from him for three years, and he didn't know until it was too late."

"He trusted her," Damien said. "That was his mistake."

"Is that what you think? That trust is always a mistake?"

"Trust without verification is a mistake. Trust earned over time is smart." He looked at her. "Did you read the Shanghai files?"

She had. All of them. Hundreds of pages of investigation reports, witness statements, and independent analyses. Every single one concluded the same thing: accidental fire, no evidence of arson, Damien Wolfe cleared of any wrongdoing.

"I read them. Victoria was lying."

"You sound surprised."

"I'm not. I just-" She struggled to articulate. "I wanted to doubt you. It would make things simpler if you were the villain she claims. But you're not. You're just a man trying to outrun his father's sins."

"We're both trying to outrun dead fathers," Damien said. "Maybe that's why this works."

The car pulled up to the mansion, and Scarlett noticed immediately that something was wrong. The front door was open, and Mrs. Chen was standing outside looking distressed.

"What happened?" Damien asked, already moving.

"Sir, I'm so sorry. Someone broke in. We've called the police, but-" Mrs. Chen's hands were shaking. "They destroyed Mrs. Wolfe's room."

Scarlett's stomach dropped. She ran inside and up the stairs, Damien close behind her.

Her bedroom looked like a tornado had hit it. Drawers pulled out, contents scattered, clothes ripped from hangers, mattress slashed open. Every surface was chaos.

But it was the mirror that made her blood run cold.

Written in red lipstick: GOLD DIGGER WHORE. And below that: YOUR BASTARD WILL PAY.

"Don't touch anything," Damien said, his voice deadly calm. "The police will need to process the scene."

Scarlett couldn't move. She stood in the doorway staring at the violation of her space, the threat against her unborn child, and felt rage burn through the shock.

"It was Victoria," she said.

"We don't know that-"

"Who else would threaten my baby? Who else would call me a gold digger?" She turned to face him. "She did this. Or paid someone to do it."

"Then we'll prove it. Security cameras, forensics, something." Damien pulled out his phone. "Brooks? I need you to pull all security footage from the past six hours. Someone broke into the mansion and vandalized my wife's room."

The police arrived twenty minutes later:two detectives who took statements, photographed everything, and dusted for prints. They were professional but skeptical, especially when Scarlett suggested Victoria might be responsible.

"Do you have any evidence your stepmother would do this?" the older detective, Harris, asked.

"She's been threatening me. Sending texts, making accusations-"

"Have you saved these texts?"

Scarlett pulled out her phone and showed them Victoria's messages. The detectives exchanged glances.

"These are definitely threatening," Harris admitted. "But they don't prove she broke into your home. We'll interview her, but unless we find physical evidence connecting her to the scene-"

"What about the security cameras?" Damien asked.

"We'll review the footage. But Mr. Wolfe, a mansion this size, with this many staff members coming and going,it's possible someone slipped through without being caught on camera."

They promised to investigate thoroughly, but Scarlett could hear the subtext: Don't get your hopes up.

After they left, Damien had the staff clean and restore Scarlett's room, but she couldn't bring herself to sleep there. The memory of that message-YOUR BASTARD WILL PAY-felt like a stain she couldn't wash away.

"Stay in my room tonight," Damien said. "Tomorrow we'll figure out something more permanent."

His room was larger than hers, decorated in dark wood and deep blues. Masculine and controlled, like him. There was a sitting area with a leather couch, floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the garden, and a bed that looked like it could sleep four people.

"I'll take the couch," Scarlett said.

"Don't be ridiculous. Take the bed. I have a late call with Shanghai anyway,I won't sleep for hours."

But when she emerged from his bathroom after showering,wearing one of his shirts because she couldn't bear to touch her own clothes,he was still there, sitting on the edge of the bed, looking exhausted.

"You should sleep," she said.

"So should you. But neither of us will."

He was right. Scarlett climbed into the bed, and Damien lay down beside her, both of them on top of the covers, a careful distance between them.

"I'm going to destroy her," Scarlett said into the darkness. "For my father. For me. For our baby. Victoria doesn't get to threaten my child and walk away."

"We'll destroy her together." Damien's hand found hers. "But carefully. Legally. We're not going to give her ammunition to paint us as the villains."

"I don't want careful. I want her to suffer."

"Suffering isn't the same as justice. And right now, you need justice more than revenge." He squeezed her hand. "Trust me on this. I've spent years wanting revenge on everyone who hurt my family. It doesn't satisfy the way you think it will."

"What does satisfy?"

"Building something better than what they destroyed. Proving them wrong through success rather than their failure." He turned to look at her. "You want to honor your father? Reclaim his company, restore his reputation, raise our child to know their grandfather was a good man. That matters more than making Victoria suffer."

"Can't I do both?"

"Probably. But priorities matter."

Scarlett rolled onto her side to face him. "How are you so calm about this? Someone broke into your house and threatened your child."

"I'm not calm. I'm controlled. There's a difference." His eyes were hard. "Inside, I want to find whoever wrote that message and make them regret being born. But acting on that impulse helps no one. So I control it, channel it into something useful, and trust that justice will come."

"You sound like you've had practice."

"Years of it. My father destroyed a lot of people on his way down. When he died, they came for me. Threats, vandalism, lawsuits, smear campaigns. I learned early that reacting emotionally just gave them power. Responding strategically was the only way to win."

"Is that what I am? A strategic response?"

"You started as one." His thumb stroked across her knuckles. "But you're not anymore."

"What am I now?"

"I don't know. Something more complicated." He pulled her closer, eliminating the careful distance between them. "Something that's making it very hard to maintain professional boundaries."

Scarlett's breath caught. "The contract says no emotional involvement."

"The contract says a lot of things we've already violated." His hand moved to her face, tilting her chin up. "We're having a baby together, Scarlett. I think we're past the point of pretending this is purely business."

"So what is it?"

"I don't know. But I'd like to find out." He leaned in, his mouth hovering just above hers. "If you want to."

She should say no. This was already complicated enough without adding feelings into the mix. But his lips were so close, and she was so tired of pretending she didn't want him.

"Yes," she whispered.

He kissed her, soft and careful, like she was something precious. Not the fierce, desperate kiss from the car, but something slower. Deeper. More dangerous because it felt like more than desire.

It felt like the beginning of something real.

When they finally pulled apart, both breathing hard, Damien rested his forehead against hers.

"This changes everything," he said.

"I know."

"The contract-"

"Can be renegotiated. Or burned. I don't care anymore." She met his eyes. "I want you, Damien. Not your money or your protection or your business deal. Just you."

Something shifted in his expression;vulnerability and want and fear all mixed together. "I'm not good at this. Relationships. Emotions. Letting people in."

"Neither am I. We'll figure it out together."

"What if we can't? What if I hurt you?"

"What if I hurt you?" She cupped his face. "We're both damaged, Damien. Both scared. But maybe that means we understand each other better than people who've never been broken."

He pulled her against his chest, and they lay there in the dark, holding each other like anchors in a storm.

"Tell me about your father," Scarlett said quietly. "The real story. Not the sanitized version for the media."

Damien was silent for so long she thought he wouldn't answer. Then: "My father, Richard Wolfe, was charming. Brilliant. Charismatic. He could convince anyone of anything. He built a real estate empire through force of personality and creative financing."

"Creative financing meaning fraud?"

"Eventually. At first, it was just aggressive tactics. Leveraging properties he didn't fully own, using money from one project to fund another, staying one step ahead of creditors. It worked until it didn't." His voice was flat, emotionless. "When I was twenty, he borrowed heavily from the wrong people. Not banks-investors who didn't appreciate being lied to. When the properties underperformed and he couldn't pay them back, they demanded their money."

"But he'd already spent it."

"He'd already spent it on luxury cars, expensive art, a mistress in the Hamptons. My mother knew about the mistress but stayed because she loved him. Or because she was addicted to the lifestyle. I'm still not sure which."

Scarlett held him tighter.

"The investors gave him ninety days to return their money or they'd go to the authorities. He couldn't get it legally, so he started embezzling from his own company. Falsifying documents, inflating property values, moving money through shell corporations. He stole from his partners, his employees' pensions, even my college fund." Damien's voice cracked slightly. "My sister Claire was seventeen. She had a full scholarship to Princeton. He stole it to pay off his debts."

"Damien-"

"Claire never forgave him. When the scandal broke and Dad killed himself, she blamed me for not stopping him sooner. Said I must have known what he was doing, that I was complicit through silence. She cut me off completely. I haven't spoken to her in ten years."

"Where is she now?"

"Teaching literature at a small college in Vermont. Married to a good man, two kids, a simple life as far from me and Dad's legacy as possible." He took a shaky breath. "I send her money every year. Anonymous deposits into her account. She probably knows it's from me, but she's never acknowledged it. Never reached out."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. She was right. I did know something was wrong. I saw the signs:Dad's stress, the late-night calls, the way he'd snap when questioned about finances. But I was twenty and stupid and convinced my father was invincible. By the time I realized the truth, it was too late to stop anything."

"You were a kid. It wasn't your responsibility."

"I was old enough to know better. Old enough to ask questions, demand transparency, protect my family." His arms tightened around her. "That's why I'm so controlling now. Why I need complete transparency in everything. I won't be blind again. I won't let people I care about get hurt because I missed the warning signs."

Scarlett understood then. His need for control wasn't about power,it was about protection. He'd failed to protect his family once, and he was terrified of failing again.

"You won't miss the signs with me," she said. "I'm too stubborn to let you."

That earned her a small laugh. "True. You're possibly the most stubborn person I've ever met."

"Takes one to know one."

They fell asleep like that, tangled together in his bed, two broken people finding something like comfort in each other.

The next morning, Scarlett woke to find Damien already up, standing by the windows with his phone to his ear, speaking in rapid Mandarin. He was shirtless, wearing only sleep pants, and the morning light caught the lines of muscle across his back.

She let herself look, appreciating the view, feeling pleasantly sore from their activities after talking-activities that had involved breaking several more contract clauses.

He turned and caught her staring. A slow smile spread across his face.

"I'll call you back," he said into the phone, then crossed to the bed. "Good morning."

"Morning." She stretched, and his eyes tracked the movement with clear appreciation. "What time is it?"

"Eight. You slept late. I didn't want to wake you."

"We were up pretty late."

"We were." He sat on the edge of the bed, his hand moving to her stomach. "How are you feeling?"

The gesture was becoming familiar,his hand on her still-flat abdomen, like he was trying to connect with the baby growing there. It made her heart ache in the best way.

"Tired. Nauseous. But okay." She covered his hand with hers. "What were you talking about?"

"The Chen deal. David wants to move up the timeline-signature next month instead of three months from now." Damien's expression was complicated. "With the baby announcement, he's convinced we're stable and committed. Ironically, the pregnancy we didn't plan is making our fake marriage look more legitimate than anything we could have orchestrated."

"So we're succeeding accidentally."

"Story of my life lately." He leaned down and kissed her softly. "I have meetings all day, but tonight we have dinner with my grandmother. She wants to meet you."

Scarlett's stomach dropped. "Your grandmother. The one who's sick and was supposedly the reason we rushed into marriage?"

"Except she's not actually sick. That was a lie for David Chen's benefit. Grandmother Margaret is eighty-seven and healthy as a horse." He grimaced. "Also terrifying. She'll see through every lie we try to tell her, so we might as well be honest."

"How honest?"

"Enough. She knows the marriage started as a business arrangement. But she'll want to know if it's becoming something more." He met Scarlett's eyes. "What should I tell her?"

"The truth. That we don't know what this is yet, but we're figuring it out."

"She'll like you. You're direct. She appreciates direct."

Scarlett spent the day reading through more of Jack's investigation files and starting to plan her attack on Victoria. With the embezzlement evidence, they could destroy her stepmother financially and possibly get her arrested. But Scarlett wanted more. She wanted Victoria to admit what she'd done. To confess to murder.

She was deep in bank statements when her phone rang. Elena.

She almost didn't answer, but curiosity won out.

"What do you want?"

"Scarlett." Elena's voice was strained, nothing like her usual smug superiority. "We need to talk. In person. It's about Mother."

"I have nothing to say to you."

"Mother's planning something. Something bad. She's been meeting with lawyers, moving money, talking about teaching you a lesson." Elena sounded genuinely frightened. "I think she's going to try to hurt you. Or the baby."

"Why would you warn me? You hate me."

"I don't-" Elena took a breath. "I don't hate you. I was jealous of you. Dad loved you more than he ever loved me, and I resented it. But that doesn't mean I want Mother to hurt you. She's become unstable, Scarlett. Paranoid and dangerous. Please, just meet with me. Let me tell you what I know."

It was probably a trap. Elena had never done anything that wasn't self-serving.

But what if it wasn't?

"Fine. Where?"

"The coffee shop on Fifth and 63rd. One hour. Come alone."

The line went dead.

Scarlett stared at her phone, weighing options. She should tell Damien. She should bring security. She should probably ignore Elena completely.

But if her stepsister actually had information about Victoria's plans, Scarlett needed to hear it.

She left a note for Damien: "Meeting Elena at Fifth and 63rd. Back in two hours. and slipped out before anyone could stop her."

The coffee shop was busy with the lunch crowd. Elena was already there, sitting in a back corner, looking nothing like the polished socialite who'd been sleeping with Marcus. She wore jeans and a simple sweater, no makeup, her hair pulled back. She looked young and scared.

"You came," Elena said, relief evident.

"You have ten minutes. Talk."

Elena glanced around nervously. "Mother's been having meetings with a man named Viktor Kozlov. Russian, ex-military, the kind of person you hire when you need things done quietly."

"What kind of things?"

"I don't know exactly. But I overheard her on the phone yesterday. She was saying something about 'removing obstacles' and 'making it look natural.' Then she said your name."

Ice flooded Scarlett's veins. "You think she hired someone to kill me."

"I think she's desperate enough to consider it. The embezzlement investigation, the pregnancy announcement, your marriage to Damien,you've taken away all her power. She's cornered, and cornered animals do desperate things."

"Why are you telling me this?"

Elena's eyes filled with tears. "Because I'm not a monster. I slept with Marcus because I was jealous and petty and wanted to hurt you. But I don't want you dead. I don't want your baby hurt. And I don't want to be complicit in whatever Mother's planning."

"You could go to the police."

"With what? Overheard phone calls and suspicions? They'd laugh me out of the station. But you have resources now. Protection. You can do something about this."

Scarlett studied her stepsister, looking for deception. But Elena seemed genuinely terrified.

"Why now? Why warn me now?"

"Because yesterday, Mother asked me where you'd be today. What your schedule was, whether you'd have security with you. She was gathering information, Scarlett. And when I asked why she needed to know, she said-" Elena's voice broke. "She said some problems solve themselves if you're patient. But some problems need help disappearing."

This was real. Victoria was actually planning to have her killed.

"I need a name," Scarlett said. "This Viktor Kozlov. Where does he work? How do I find him?"

"I don't know. But I can try to get information. Mother keeps files in her study maybe there's something there about him."

"Can you access the study?"

"I still have a key to the house. I could-" Elena stopped. "You want me to spy on Mother?"

"I want you to help me stop her before she kills someone else. She murdered my father, Elena. She pushed him down those stairs, and she's going to get away with it unless we find proof."

Elena went pale. "I knew she was stealing from him. I didn't know she-"

"She killed him. And if you help me prove it, maybe you get to salvage some piece of your soul."

For a long moment, Elena just sat there, tears streaming down her face. Then she nodded.

"Okay. I'll help. I'll get you what I can find." She pulled out her phone. "Give me your number. I'll contact you when I have something."

They exchanged information, and Elena stood to leave. At the door, she turned back.

"Scarlett? I'm sorry. For everything. I know it doesn't fix anything, but I'm sorry."

Then she was gone, leaving Scarlett alone with coffee she hadn't touched and the knowledge that her stepmother had escalated from threats to murder plots.

She needed to get back to the mansion. She needed to tell Damien.

Her phone buzzed. A text from an unknown number: "Cozy chat with the step-sister.Think she's really on your side? Or is this another trap? Either way, you walked right into it alone. Not very smart, Mrs. Wolfe. - V"

Scarlett looked around the coffee shop, her heart pounding. Victoria was watching her. Or had someone watching her.

She was being followed.

She stood quickly and headed for the door, pulling out her phone to call Damien. But before she could dial, someone grabbed her arm.

"Mrs. Wolfe. We need you to come with us."

Two men in suits, earpieces visible. Not Damien's security. Not anyone she recognized.

"Who are you?"

"NYPD. You're wanted for questioning regarding the murder of William Hayes."

No. This was Victoria's doing. She'd somehow convinced the police that Scarlett was responsible for her own father's death.

"I didn't kill my father-"

"You can explain that at the station. Please come quietly, or we'll be forced to use restraints."

Around them, people were staring. Phones were out, recording. This would be all over social media in minutes;Damien Wolfe's pregnant wife arrested for murder.

Exactly what Victoria wanted.

Scarlett let them lead her out to an unmarked car, her mind racing. She needed a lawyer. She needed Damien. She needed to not panic.

But as the car pulled away from the curb, she saw a familiar figure standing across the street, watching with a smile.

Victoria.

And beside her, a man who must be Viktor Kozlov-tall, broad-shouldered, eyes like a shark.

The man Victoria had hired to make Scarlett disappear.

This wasn't just an arrest.

This was an elimination.