Alice's POV
I couldn't do it.
I threw off the covers and sat up, staring at Miles's empty bed. He'd left an hour ago, muttering something about checking security footage. Looking for the traitor who'd let Richard Zhao's people get to Margaret.
Margaret, who was kidnapped because of me.
The clock on the nightstand glowed red: 2:47 AM. In twenty-one hours, Richard Zhao wanted his answer. Me for Margaret. My life for hers.
The choice should be easy. Margaret had hugged me like I was her daughter. She'd welcomed me into this family without hesitation. And I'd brought a crime lord to her door.
I had to turn myself in.
I grabbed my phone and pulled up the threatening text. There had to be a way to contact him, to tell him I'd come willingly if he just let Margaret go—
"Don't even think about it."
I jumped. Miles stood in the doorway, his hair messy and his shirt untucked. He looked exhausted.
"Think about what?" I tried to sound innocent.
"Sacrificing yourself." He walked in and sat on the edge of my bed. "I can see it on your face. You're planning to trade yourself for Margaret."
"She was taken because of me."
"She was taken because Richard Zhao is a monster who uses people as weapons." Miles's voice was hard. "This isn't your fault, Alice."
"Yes, it is! If I wasn't here—if you hadn't married me—she'd be safe in her bed right now!" The words burst out louder than I meant. "Everyone I care about gets hurt. Derek said I was bad luck. Maybe he was right."
"Derek was an idiot." Miles grabbed my hand. "And you're not going anywhere. We'll find Margaret another way."
"How? You said yourself there's a traitor. Someone who knows everything we do. Someone who gave Richard my medical records." I pulled my hand away. "I'm the problem, Miles. Letting me go solves it."
"It solves nothing!" He stood up, pacing. "You think Richard just wants to meet his long-lost daughter? He's a crime lord, Alice. He uses people. Controls them. If we hand you over, you'll never be free again. And neither will our baby."
Our baby. I touched my stomach, feeling the small bump. "Then what do we do?"
"We fight." Miles stopped pacing and looked at me. "We find the traitor. We find Margaret. We end this."
"In twenty-one hours?"
"If that's what it takes."
I wanted to believe him. Wanted to trust that billionaire money and power could fix this. But I'd seen the photos Richard sent. He had people everywhere. Resources that matched Miles's.
"I can't sleep," I admitted. "Every time I close my eyes, I see Margaret's face when she hugged me. And I think about her locked in some basement or—" My voice cracked.
Miles sat back down, closer this time. "Come on. I can't sleep either. Let's go downstairs."
"Why?"
"Because sitting in this room thinking about worst-case scenarios will drive us both crazy. And I make really good midnight snacks."
Despite everything, I almost smiled. "You cook?"
"I survive. There's a difference." He held out his hand. "Come on, wife. Let me feed you."
The kitchen was massive, all steel and marble. Miles opened the huge refrigerator and started pulling out ingredients. Eggs. Cheese. Vegetables I couldn't name.
"Sit," he ordered, pointing to a stool at the counter.
I sat, watching him crack eggs into a bowl. His movements were confident but not practiced. Like someone who'd learned to cook out of necessity, not passion.
"Can I ask you something?" I said quietly.
"Anything."
"Why are you really doing this? All of this. Marrying me, protecting me, fighting Richard Zhao." I took a breath. "And don't say it's because of the baby. I know there's more."
Miles's hands paused over the eggs. For a long moment, he didn't speak. Then: "Do you know what day I met you?"
"The worst night of your life. You said that."
"It was the anniversary of my parents' death." He started whisking the eggs, not looking at me. "Six years exactly. I'd spent the whole day in meetings, pretending I was fine. But when I got home, I just—I couldn't be here. In this house full of memories. So I went to that hotel bar to be alone."
He poured the eggs into a hot pan. "For six years, I'd been going through the motions. Building the company. Taking care of Emma. Being responsible. But I wasn't living, Alice. I was just... existing. Every day felt the same. Empty."
"Miles—"
"Then I saw you." He looked at me finally, and his eyes were raw. "Crying at the bar. So heartbroken you couldn't even see straight. And I sat down next to you because—because you looked how I felt. Lost. Broken. Real."
He flipped the omelet with practiced ease. "We talked for hours. You told me about Derek and Lily. About feeling invisible your whole life. About thinking you weren't good enough. And I wanted to shake you and tell you that you were wrong. That you were the most real person I'd met in six years."
"I was drunk and crying," I said. "Not exactly attractive."
"You were honest." He slid the omelet onto a plate and brought it to me with a fork. "No games. No pretending. No caring that I had money or power. You just wanted someone to see you. And Alice—I saw you. I've been seeing you ever since."
I stared at the food, my throat tight. "So this whole thing—the marriage, the protection—it's not just about obligation?"
"I married you because that night with you was the first time I felt alive in six years," Miles said quietly. "The baby just gave me an excuse to find you again. To keep you. To be selfish for once in my life."
"That's not selfish."
"Isn't it?" He leaned against the counter, exhausted. "I trapped you in my world. Painted a target on your back. Got my aunt kidnapped. All because I couldn't let you go."
"You didn't trap me. I said yes."
"Because you were scared and pregnant and alone." His voice broke. "Not because you wanted me."
The words hung between us. Heavy. True.
But also... not completely true.
"That first night," I said slowly, "when you listened to me cry and didn't judge me or tell me to get over it—that was the kindest thing anyone had done for me in years." I took a bite of the omelet. It was actually good. "And when you found me weeks later and offered to help with the baby, I thought you were crazy. But then I saw how you looked at me, and I wondered—"
"Wondered what?"
"If maybe someone actually saw me as more than the plain, boring backup plan."
Miles moved around the counter and sat next to me. Close enough that our shoulders touched. "You were never plain. You were hiding. There's a difference."
"How do you know?"
"Because I did the same thing after my parents died. Hid behind work and responsibility and being the Ice King everyone expected. Until you showed me I didn't have to."
We sat in silence, sharing the omelet. It felt intimate in a way that had nothing to do with sex or romance. Just two broken people learning they didn't have to be broken alone.
"We'll get Margaret back," Miles said finally. "I promise."
"You can't promise that."
"Watch me." He pulled out his phone. "James has been tracking everyone who had access to your medical records. Security. Staff. Doctors. He's narrowed it down to five people."
"Five suspects?"
"Five people who could be the traitor. We interview them tomorrow—today, technically. Starting at sunrise. One of them will break."
I wanted to believe him. Wanted to trust that we could solve this before the deadline. But something felt wrong. Like we were missing something obvious.
My phone buzzed. Another text from the unknown number.
But this time it wasn't words. It was a live video feed.
Margaret, tied to a chair in a dark room. She looked scared but unharmed. And standing behind her, just barely visible in the shadows—
"Oh my God," I whispered.
Miles leaned over to see. His face went white. "No. That's impossible."
Because the person standing behind Margaret, the person working with Richard Zhao, wasn't one of the five suspects James had found.
It was Emma.
Miles's nineteen-year-old sister. The girl who'd squealed with excitement when we met. Who'd made Pinterest boards for the nursery. Who'd defended me against Derek and Lily.
She looked directly at the camera and smiled. A smile I'd never seen before. Cold. Calculated. Nothing like the bubbly girl from this afternoon.
Then she held up a sign: "Surprised? You have 20 hours. Choose wisely. —Your loving sister"
The video cut out.
Miles's phone slipped from his hand and clattered on the counter. He stared at the blank screen like it might start playing again. Like he could rewind and unsee what we'd just witnessed.
"Emma," he whispered. "Emma is the traitor."
And suddenly everything made sense. How Richard knew about my medical appointment—Emma had driven me there. How he knew about the wedding—Emma had been in the safe room. How he got past security—because Emma lived here. Had access to everything.
The sister Miles had raised. The girl he'd sacrificed six years of his life to protect.
She was the one destroying him.