Victoria's POV
I waited until Damien's breathing evened out before I moved.
Midnight. The penthouse was dark except for the city lights filtering through floor-to-ceiling windows. My husband slept beside me, one arm thrown across the space where I'd been lying moments ago.
I slipped out of bed, my pregnant belly making me clumsy. Six months along and I was supposed to be glowing, safe, building a nursery.
Instead, I was sneaking out to meet a dead woman who might be my only chance at survival.
Can't sleep? Damien's voice made me freeze.
I turned, forcing a smile. The baby's kicking. I'm going to read for a while so I don't keep you awake.
He sat up, concern crossing his face. Are you feeling okay? Should I call the doctor?
I'm fine. Just pregnancy insomnia. I kissed his forehead, tasting the lie. Go back to sleep.
He caught my hand. Victoria, I need to tell you something. About Marcus—
In the morning, I said quickly. Because if he told me the truth now, I might break. Might scream. Might ask how much he knew about the six dead women who came before me. I promise we'll talk. But right now, I just need some quiet time with the baby.
He let me go.
I grabbed my phone and headed to the guest bathroom, locking the door. Phoenix's instructions were burned into my memory:
Midnight. Warehouse on Pier 29. Wear dark clothes. Take three different cars—taxis, not Uber. They track everything. Come alone or don't come at all.
I changed into black leggings and a hoodie that barely fit over my belly. Grabbed the emergency cash I'd been hiding for months—because some part of me had always known I'd need to run eventually.
The penthouse had security cameras everywhere. Marcus's people were always watching.
But I'd learned the blind spots. Damien's head of security had shown me during the safety tour, never imagining I'd use them to escape.
I slipped out through the service entrance, down the back stairs reserved for maintenance. Outside, the San Francisco night was cold and damp. I pulled my hood up and started walking.
Three blocks away, I hailed my first taxi.
Financial District, I told the driver.
At the second stop, I switched to another taxi. Mission District.
The third taxi took me to Pier 29.
The warehouse loomed like a skeleton in the darkness—abandoned, probably condemned, perfect for a trap.
My baby kicked hard against my ribs. This is insane, I thought. Turn around. Go home. Pretend you never got those texts.
But home wasn't safe. Home was a beautiful cage where I waited to become accident number seven.
I pushed open the warehouse door. It creaked like something from a horror movie.
Hello? My voice echoed in the darkness.
Nothing.
I pulled out my phone, using the flashlight to navigate around broken pallets and rusted machinery. Phoenix? I came alone like you said. Where are you?
Checking to make sure you weren't followed.
I spun around.
A woman emerged from the shadows—short black hair, dark clothes, face partially hidden. But her eyes caught the light from my phone, and I saw something in them that made my breath catch.
Intelligence. Pain. Rage so deep it could burn the world.
You're Sienna Chen, I whispered. You're supposed to be dead.
I was. She moved closer, and I saw the scars on her hands, the slight limp in her walk. Your husband made sure of it.
Damien tried to kill you?
Damien succeeded in killing me. The woman I was—the prosecutor, the wife, the fool who trusted him—she died in that yacht explosion. Selene pulled out a tablet, showing me documents. This is the insurance policy he changed three weeks before our anniversary trip. Double indemnity for accidental death.
My hands shook as I scrolled through the evidence.
This is the security company that inspected the yacht the day before. Notice the name? Chen Security Services. Marcus's company. More documents. This is the deposit into an offshore account the day after my funeral. Five million dollars. Damien's payment for killing his wife.
I felt sick. But you survived.
Barely. A fisherman pulled me from the water. Forty percent burns. Shattered leg. Face destroyed. She touched her cheek. This isn't my real face. It's what eighteen months of reconstructive surgery bought me.
Why are you telling me this?
Because you're next. She pulled up photos of six women. The same ones she'd texted me at the gala. Marcus has been placing women with powerful men for fifteen years. You're Asset Number Seven, Victoria. How long do you think you have?
I don't understand. Why would Marcus—
Control. Information. He puts beautiful, smart women in proximity to men he wants to manipulate. You gather intelligence, play the perfect wife, bear their children. Then when you've served your purpose—accident.
The warehouse seemed to tilt. I grabbed a crate for support.
Marcus placed me with Damien? My voice cracked. Everything—our meeting, the romance, the marriage—it was all arranged?
When did you meet Damien?
Two and a half years ago. I was Marcus's assistant first. Then Marcus introduced me to Damien at a company event, right after— I stopped. Right after Sienna's funeral. Oh my God.
You were my replacement. Younger, less complicated, easier to control. Sienna's voice wasn't cruel—just tired. I'm guessing Marcus told you to get close to Damien, report back on his activities, maybe gather some corporate intelligence?
I nodded numbly. He said it was standard business practice. That all investors monitor their portfolio companies this way. I thought I was just doing my job.
Until you got pregnant.
Until I got pregnant, I agreed. Then Marcus started acting different. Colder. He asked questions about Damien's estate planning, his will, who'd get custody if something happened to me.
Because a baby makes you more valuable alive—temporarily. Damien will love his son. Be protective. And Marcus can use that child to control him after your convenient accident.
I pressed my hand to my belly, feeling my son move. I found the files three months ago. The other women. The death certificates. I've been researching, trying to understand— My voice broke. I've been so scared.
Smart. Fear keeps you alive. Sienna studied me. Why come to me? Why not run?
Where would I go? Marcus has connections everywhere. Money, power, people who owe him favors. I wiped tears from my eyes. And I don't have enough evidence to go to the police. It's all circumstantial. Six women who died in accidents over fifteen years? No prosecutor would touch it without proof.
You'd be surprised what a good prosecutor can do with circumstantial evidence. Sienna's smile was bitter. I should know—I used to be one of the best.
That's why I came to you. You're the only person who's ever survived Marcus Chen. You're the only one who might actually help me.
Or I might let you die. Your husband tried to murder me, Victoria. You're carrying his child. Why should I save you?
The question was fair. Brutal, but fair.
Because I'm not your enemy, I said quietly. I'm another one of his victims. And because— I pulled out my phone, showing her a folder I'd been building for months. I've been documenting everything. Every conversation with Marcus. Every suspicious transaction. Every file I could access.
Sienna's eyes widened as she scrolled through my evidence.
This is—how did you get access to these accounts?
Marcus trusted me. He thought I was just a pretty face who could barely work a computer. But I have a degree in computer science from MIT. I've been in his systems for six months.
Does he know?
Not yet. I've been careful. Covering my tracks. Waiting for the right moment to— I stopped. To what? Run? Go to the police? I'd had the evidence for months and done nothing because I was too terrified to act.
You've been waiting to die, Sienna said softly. Collecting evidence like it might save you, but too scared to use it.
Yes. The admission hurt. I know I'm a coward. I know I should have gone to the FBI the moment I found out about the other women. But I'm pregnant and alone and Marcus has people everywhere and I didn't know what to do!
My voice echoed in the warehouse. I was crying now, the fear and stress of months pouring out.
Sienna stepped closer. Not quite comforting, but less hostile.
You're not a coward. You're trapped. There's a difference. She paused. What's on Marcus's server?
Everything. Fifteen years of corporate espionage. Shell companies used to funnel technology secrets to Chinese intelligence. Records of the women he's placed and monitored. Financial transactions showing payments to— I stopped. Wait. You already know about the espionage, don't you?
I discovered it right before Damien tried to kill me. That's what got me murdered—I knew too much about Marcus's operation.
Then you know he's not just killing women for control. He's eliminating witnesses. Anyone who could expose the espionage.
Including his own niece. Sienna's jaw tightened. Family means nothing to Marcus. Power is the only thing he values.
I have copies of his server, I said quickly. Encrypted backups hidden in three locations. Physical drives, cloud storage, sent to a lawyer with instructions to release them if I die.
Sienna went very still. You have copies of everything?
Everything. Fifteen years of crimes, clearly documented. Enough to put him away forever.
Why haven't you used them?
Because I'm pregnant and scared and I don't know who to trust! My voice cracked. Everyone Marcus touches ends up dead or destroyed. I didn't know if I could trust the FBI—what if they're on his payroll too? I didn't know if I could trust lawyers—what if they tell Marcus? I've been sitting on evidence that could destroy him while he plans my murder because I'm too terrified to move!
Sienna grabbed my shoulders. Not hard, but firm enough to cut through my panic.
Listen to me. You did exactly the right thing by waiting. By being careful. By coming to me. Her eyes burned with intensity. Because now we have leverage. Real, concrete evidence that can actually destroy him.
We?
You want to survive. I want revenge. Seems like our interests align. She released me. But I need to know—how loyal are you to Damien?
The question hit like a slap. I—I don't know. I thought I loved him, but if he tried to kill you—if he knows about Marcus's operation— I couldn't finish.
Does Damien know you're Asset Number Seven?
I don't think so. He seems to genuinely love me. The pregnancy wasn't planned—he was thrilled when I told him. But— I remembered the way he'd looked at me tonight, like he wanted to confess something. Today he said he needed to tell me about Marcus. Like he'd just figured something out.
He came to see me this afternoon. Confronted me about being Sienna. She smiled grimly. I told him you're next on Marcus's kill list. He didn't know. Or he's a better actor than I gave him credit for.
My heart lurched. Damien knows you're alive?
And he knows Marcus has been manipulating him for years. Question is, whose side will he choose when this goes to war—his mentor's or his pregnant wife's?
I don't know.
Then we need to find out. Fast. Sienna pulled up her phone. ARTEMIS, any movement on Marcus Chen tonight?
A computer voice responded: Subject left his residence at 11:47 PM. Current location: approaching Pier 29.
My blood turned to ice. He followed me.
Or he's following me. Either way— Sienna grabbed my arm. We need to leave. Now.
We ran toward the back exit, my pregnant belly making me slow and clumsy.
Behind us, the warehouse door crashed open.
Victoria! Marcus's voice echoed through the darkness. Calm. Almost kind. I know you're here. Come out, dear. We need to talk about your midnight adventures.
Sienna pulled me behind a stack of crates. We crouched in darkness, her hand over my mouth to quiet my breathing.
Marcus's footsteps echoed closer. And Sienna—yes, I know you're here too. Did you really think I wouldn't notice my dead niece destroying my portfolio companies? I've known since the gala, dear. I just wanted to see what you'd do.
He stopped walking. I could hear him breathing, maybe twenty feet away.
Here's what's going to happen. Victoria, you're going to come home with me. Sienna, you're going to disappear again—permanently this time. Or— His voice went cold. I call my associate, and Damien has a tragic accident in the next sixty seconds. Your choice.
Sienna's hand tightened on my arm. Through the darkness, I saw her face—and the terrible choice reflected there.
Save me, or save Damien.
She couldn't save both.