Emily awoke in Liam's bed to the faint sound of rain tapping against the glass.
The city skyline beyond the windows shimmered beneath a silver mist, the sun struggling to break through the clouds. She blinked, momentarily unsure where she was—until she felt the warmth of his arm loosely draped over her waist.
He was still asleep.
His face was softer now, unguarded. No coldness, no walls. Just a man carrying too much, trying not to drown in it. Emily studied him, her heartbeat steady but unsure.
Last night, he'd let her in. Not completely—but enough to know he was real beneath the steel exterior.
But was it real enough to trust?
She gently slipped out of bed, padded to her room, and changed before anyone in the house could start whispering. Just as she stepped into the hallway, her phone buzzed. An unknown number.
Again.
She hesitated, then answered.
"Hello?"
Silence.
Then a voice, low and unfamiliar. "You're in over your head, sweetheart."
Emily's blood ran cold. "Who is this?"
"You're sleeping next to a man who signed your death certificate the day he married you."
The call cut.
Emily stood frozen, heart thudding in her ears. She turned sharply to see Carmen at the end of the hallway, holding a tray of tea.
Carmen noticed her pale face. "Are you alright?"
Emily forced a breath. "Just… tired."
But her hands were shaking.
---
Later that morning, Emily sat in Liam's office, her mind replaying the call over and over.
Liam was on the phone again, arguing with someone in Italian. She only caught fragments.
> "They're watching my house."
"I said no blood until I say so."
"If they touch her, there'll be war."
When he hung up, she asked quietly, "Was that about me?"
He looked up, tension carved into his jaw. "Yes."
"I got another call."
Liam's eyes darkened. "What did they say?"
"That I'm in danger. That I was a mistake."
He stood, came around the desk. "They're trying to rattle you."
"It's working."
"I'll have Carmine double your security—"
"I don't want more bodyguards, Liam. I want the truth. Why are they threatening me? Why do they want to hurt me just because I'm your wife?"
Liam exhaled. "Because you're now part of my life. And that means you're part of my weakness."
He reached for her hand, slower this time, more careful.
"I brought you into this thinking I could protect you from it. But these people... they don't care about rules. They don't care that you didn't choose this war."
Emily swallowed hard. "Then why did you choose me?"
His voice dropped. "Because you were real. Because you looked at me and didn't flinch."
"And now?"
He stared at her, his gaze intense. "Now I'm scared that caring about you will get you killed."
---
Later that day, the house was unusually quiet. Even Carmen seemed distant.
Emily found herself wandering into the study, running her fingers along the old books and files Liam kept locked away. A drawer caught her eye—unlatched. She hesitated, then opened it.
Inside was a folder. Labeled simply:
> Emily Carter – Background
Her heart skipped.
Photos. School transcripts. Her college application. Even a picture of her mother.
Her mother.
Tears sprang to her eyes.
He'd researched her. Every detail. Before the marriage.
Before the deal.
She shoved the folder closed, her hands shaking.
---
Liam found her outside by the garden wall that evening, the sun dipping behind the buildings like a curtain closing.
"You followed me before we met," she said, voice flat.
He didn't pretend to lie. "I had to be sure you had no ties to them. No bloodlines. No danger."
"You say you wanted to protect me, but you stalked my life before you even knew me."
"I didn't stalk you," Liam said. "I watched over you. I chose you because you were innocent."
She turned sharply. "You didn't choose me. You selected me."
That landed hard.
He didn't defend himself.
Instead, he stepped closer, eyes shadowed. "And yet here you are. Still standing next to me."
Emily's voice cracked. "Because I want to believe this marriage is more than strategy. That I'm more than a chess piece."
"You are."
"Then prove it."
He leaned in, slow, eyes fixed on hers.
"Come with me tomorrow," he said. "To the charity gala. Publicly. As my wife. It's not just about appearances. It's about drawing a line."
"What l
ine?"
"Between us... and them."
---
That night, as she lay awake in her room, Emily stared at the ceiling.
She was caught in something bigger than herself—a storm that started long before she entered Liam Stone's world.
But if she walked away now, she might never know the truth.
Or the cost of wh
at they could become.