Damien's POV
I waited until Sienna's breathing evened out before I moved.
She'd finally fallen asleep around 2 AM, exhausted from crying and arguing with Marcus at the marina meeting. He'd convinced her—barely—that the foreign connections were a mistake, that he'd been duped by his own investors, that he'd fix everything if she just gave him time.
She'd agreed to wait one week before going to the authorities. One week to let Marcus clean up the mess.
She actually believed him.
I slipped out of bed, grabbed my phone, and went downstairs to my study. My hands shook as I closed the door and dialed Marcus's private number.
He answered on the first ring. I assume she's asleep?
Yes. My voice came out hoarse. Marcus, she knows. Everything. The shell companies, the foreign money, all of it.
I'm aware. I told you the house was monitored. Marcus's voice was calm, almost bored. The question is, what are you going to do about it?
Do about it? I gripped the phone harder. She's my wife. I can't just
Can't what? Let me be clear, Damien. Your wife is a prosecutor who's built her entire career on putting people like us in prison. She's seen the evidence. Do you honestly believe she'll keep quiet?
She loves me. But even as I said it, I remembered the look in her eyes. Betrayal. Disgust. She agreed to give you a week.
Marcus laughed softly. And you believe her? Damien, I warned you she was too smart. Prosecutors always are. That brilliant mind you fell in love with? Right now it's cataloging every piece of evidence, building a case against us both.
She wouldn't
She absolutely would. It's what she does. Marcus paused. Tell me, what do you think happens when she goes to the FBI? Because she will, whether she promised to wait or not.
I closed my eyes, seeing it play out: federal agents at my door, my company seized, perp walk on every news channel. Everything I'd built, gone.
I go to prison, I whispered.
We both do. Twenty years minimum for espionage. Your company dismantled. Your reputation destroyed. Everything you worked for since your parents died, erased.
My parents. The factory fire. Being nineteen and alone, working three jobs, clawing my way up from nothing. I'd sworn I'd never be powerless again.
There has to be another way, I said desperately. What if we convince her? What if I promise to shut down the illegal operations, make it all legitimate
She's already seen too much. And even if you could convince her to stay quiet about the espionage, what about the fraud? She knows the company's built on false earnings. That alone would destroy you.
She's my wife, Marcus.
She's a prosecutor who swore an oath to uphold the law. That oath will always come first. His voice softened. I know this is hard. I introduced you two. I walked her down the aisle. But Damien, you need to make a choice: her or everything you've built.
That's not a choice. That's
It's survival. The same instinct that got you from factory worker to billionaire. You've always known that sentiment is weakness in our world.
I thought of my mother's voice: Trust no one. Protect yourself first. People will always betray you if you give them the chance.
She'd been right about everything else.
What are my options? The words felt like ash in my mouth.
Silence. Then: Only one. And it has to look accidental.
My stomach dropped. No. Marcus, I can't I won't
You will, because the alternative is losing everything. Prison. Poverty. Powerlessness. Each word was a hammer blow. Is that what your parents died for? So you could throw it all away for a woman who's planning to destroy you?
She's not planning
Check her computer. I guarantee she's already started building a case file.
I didn't want to believe him. But my hands were already moving, opening Sienna's laptop on my desk. Her password was our anniversary, she'd never hidden anything from me.
Her recent files loaded.
ZHAO_FRAUD_EVIDENCE_MASTER.doc
My heart stopped.
I opened it. Saw everything organized with her prosecutor's precision: timeline, evidence list, witness statements to collect, laws violated, agencies to contact. She'd even started drafting the referral to the FBI.
Recommendation: Immediate investigation of Zhao Technologies for securities fraud and potential espionage. Subject Damien Zhao shows knowledge and intent...
You see? Marcus's voice came through the phone I'd forgotten I was holding. She's already building the case. She lied to you about waiting.
Maybe she's just... preparing. In case we don't fix it.
She's a prosecutor, Damien. This is what they do. They smile, they promise, they make you feel safe—and then they destroy you. He paused. I can make the arrangements. A yacht accident. Tragic, but these things happen. You'll be devastated, naturally. Mourn appropriately. Move on with your life and your company intact.
I can't kill my wife. My voice broke.
You're not killing anyone. You're making a choice between her life and yours. Between her oath and your empire. She's already chosen her side. Now choose yours.
I hung up without answering.
For the next two weeks, I barely spoke to Sienna. I couldn't look at her without seeing that case file, without knowing she was planning to destroy everything I'd built. When she tried to talk about us, I shut down. When she asked if I was fixing the fraud, I said I was working on it.
I was working on something else entirely.
Marcus had arranged everything: a security company to inspect the yacht and place the device, an insurance policy I'd need to update, even a counselor to help me with my grief afterward.
All I had to do was get her on the boat.
Damien? Sienna appeared in my study doorway one evening, looking exhausted. We need to talk. About everything. About us.
I know. I forced myself to meet her eyes. I've been distant. I'm sorry. This whole situation with the company...
Have you made progress on fixing it?
Lie or truth? I chose the one that would work: Some. But I miss you, Sienna. I miss us. All this stress, the fraud discovery, the fighting—I feel like we're falling apart.
Her expression softened. I feel it too.
I want to fix it. Fix us, I mean. The words came easier than they should. What if we took a few days away? Just the two of us. No work, no stress. Remember how to be married again.
Damien, I don't think a vacation is going to
A yacht trip. Like our honeymoon. Just us on the water, talking, reconnecting. I stood, moving closer to her. Please, Sienna. Before we make any final decisions about the fraud, about Marcus, about any of it—give me a chance to save our marriage.
She hesitated. I could see the conflict in her eyes: the prosecutor who knew she should refuse, and the wife who still loved me despite everything.
Okay, she whispered. One last trip. But Damien, when we get back, I need you to come clean. To everyone. No more lies.
I promise. The lie tasted like poison. No more lies.
I booked the yacht for our anniversary weekend.
Marcus sent one final text: The device is placed. Make sure she stays below deck. The explosion needs to look like an engine malfunction.
I stared at the message until the words blurred.
Three days until the trip.
Three days until I became a murderer.