EMMA POV
I woke at 4 AM because my body refused to believe I was safe.
The guest room was dark. Quiet. Expensive sheets that felt wrong against my skin. Nothing about this place felt real. Nothing about my life felt real anymore.
I lay there for ten minutes trying to fall back asleep. My brain wouldn't stop spinning. Replaying yesterday. The courthouse. The vows. Marcus's cold voice saying I do like he was signing a death warrant.
The ring on my finger felt like it weighed a thousand pounds.
I gave up on sleep. I got dressed in the dark and went to the kitchen.
Making coffee was better than thinking. Doing something with my hands kept the panic at bay. I found the coffee maker. Found mugs. Found everything organized and perfect like nobody actually lived here.
While the coffee brewed, I opened my laptop. I pulled up every public filing I could find on Russo family operations. Court cases. Legal battles. Federal investigations. I read through contract law and criminal procedure and corporate structures.
If I was going to survive in this world, I needed to understand it. I needed to make myself useful enough that Anthony Russo couldn't afford to kill me.
The coffee finished. I poured a cup and kept reading.
An hour passed. Then two. The sky outside started turning gray. Boston waking up. Normal people starting normal days.
I heard a door open down the hall.
Footsteps approached. I didn't look up from my screen.
Marcus appeared in the kitchen doorway. He wore sweatpants and a t-shirt. His hair was messy. He looked different without the expensive suit. More human. More real.
He also looked like he hadn't slept at all. Dark circles under his eyes. Tension running through his shoulders like he'd been carrying weight all night.
"You're up early," he said.
His voice made me jump. I hated that it did.
"Can't sleep," I admitted. "So I'm working."
Marcus walked to the coffee maker. He poured himself a cup like it was a ritual. Like he'd done this a thousand times alone and it had never meant anything.
He leaned against the counter and looked at me. Really looked at me. Like he was trying to figure out what kind of person wakes up at 4 AM the morning after getting forced into marriage and immediately starts working.
"What are you reading?" he asked.
"Contract law. Russo family operations. Legal exposure." I turned my laptop so he could see. "I'm trying to understand how your organization works. Where the weak points are. What cases you're losing that you shouldn't be."
Marcus stopped mid-sip. His expression shifted. Most people wouldn't ask about Russo operations. Most people knew better than to dig into criminal enterprise structures. Most people understood that curiosity got you killed.
But I wasn't most people anymore. I was Mrs. Marcus Russo. This was my job now.
"You're researching us," Marcus said slowly.
"I'm researching my work," I corrected. "You want me to be useful as legal counsel. I can't do that without understanding the organization. Your father made it clear. I earn my place by being essential. So I'm making myself essential."
Marcus set his coffee down. He walked closer. He looked at my screen. At the dozen tabs I had open. At the notes I'd been taking.
"You've been awake for two hours and you've already analyzed six months of legal filings," he said.
"Photographic memory," I replied. "And insomnia. Bad combination."
"Or perfect combination for this job."
I looked up at him. He was standing close enough that I could see the exhaustion in his eyes. The way his jaw was tight like he'd been clenching it all night. The way his hands gripped his coffee mug like it was the only thing keeping him steady.
"You didn't sleep either," I said.
"No."
"Why not?"
Marcus was quiet for a long moment. Like he was deciding whether to tell me the truth or maintain the professional distance we'd agreed on.
"Someone sent me photos last night," he said finally. "Of you. Leaving the courthouse. Getting in my car. Entering this building. Someone's watching you."
My blood turned to ice. "Who?"
"I don't know yet. But the message was clear. You're a target now. Being my wife makes you valuable. And valuable things attract dangerous attention."
I processed that information. Someone was watching me. Someone saw me as leverage against Marcus. Someone was already planning to use me as a weapon.
"Does this happen often?" I asked. "People threatening your family?"
"Sometimes," Marcus admitted. "Enemies look for weak points. Try to find leverage. Usually it's empty threats. But sometimes it's not."
"And you think this one isn't empty."
"I think someone knew my father was forcing me to marry you before I knew. I think someone's been watching the Cole family situation closely. And I think whoever it is wants me to know they can reach you whenever they want."
Fear crawled up my spine. I'd married Marcus to keep my family safe. I hadn't considered that marrying him might put me in different danger.
"What do we do?" I asked.
"We be careful," Marcus said. "You don't go anywhere alone. James will drive you if you need to leave the building. You check in with me every few hours. And you tell me immediately if anyone approaches you. Anyone at all."
I nodded. My hands were shaking. I wrapped them around my coffee mug to hide it.
Marcus noticed anyway. He sat down across from me at the kitchen table.
"You should know something," he said quietly. "If you turn state's evidence, if you go to prosecutors, if you testify against this family, everyone you love dies. That's not a threat. That's logistics. My father doesn't make exceptions. Not for anyone."
"I know," I said.
"Do you? Because you're smart enough to realize that testifying might be your only way out. Smart enough to know that federal protection exists. Smart enough to understand that cooperating with prosecutors could save your life."
I met his eyes. "I'm also smart enough to know that witness protection doesn't work against organizations like yours. That my family would be hunted forever. That my mother would die of anxiety before your father's men ever found her. I know all of that, Marcus. That's why I married you instead of running."
Something shifted in his expression. Not softening exactly. But noticing. Like he was seeing me properly for the first time.
"You made a choice," he said. "Not because you had to. But because you decided protecting them was worth sacrificing yourself."
"Yes."
"That's either the bravest thing I've ever seen or the stupidest."
"Probably both."
Marcus almost smiled. It was there and gone in a second. But I saw it.
"You remind me of someone," he said.
"Who?"
"Me. Ten years ago. Before I stopped believing I had choices."
The words hung between us. Heavy. True. He was admitting something he probably shouldn't. That he was as trapped as I was. That his cage was just bigger.
My phone buzzed on the table. Text from my father.
"Emma, please call. Your mother is asking about you. We need to know you're okay."
I stared at the message. I couldn't tell them I was okay because I wasn't. I couldn't explain that I was sitting in a criminal's penthouse at 5 AM reading case law because someone was watching me and I was now a target.
"You should answer," Marcus said. "Tell them you're fine. Tell them the marriage is good. Give them peace."
"You want me to lie."
"I want you to protect them. Truth would destroy your mother. Lies will let her sleep at night."
He was right. As much as I hated it, he was right.
I typed back: "I'm fine. Marcus is treating me well. I'll visit soon. Tell Mom not to worry."
I hit send and put my phone face down on the table.
Marcus watched me. "That was hard for you."
"Everything about this is hard."
"It gets easier."
"Does it?"
Marcus didn't answer. Because we both knew he was lying. Nothing about this life got easier. You just got better at surviving it.
"I have something for you," Marcus said. He pulled a folder from the counter behind him. "First assignment. Federal contractor implicated in organized crime. Trial in three weeks. Our attorney is incompetent. I need you to review the case and find the weak points."
I took the folder. Opened it. Started reading.
The case was complicated. Evidence was strong. But there were procedural issues. Timeline problems. Witnesses who'd been interviewed improperly.
"The prosecution obtained evidence through surveillance that crosses legal lines," I said after five minutes. "In criminal court, it's admissible. But if you separate the cases and fight this in civil court instead, you can challenge their methods. Destroy their credibility. Make them look incompetent. They win criminally but lose everything that matters."
Marcus stared at me. "You solved that in five minutes."
"I've been reading similar cases all morning. The pattern is obvious once you know what to look for."
"My attorney has been working on this for two months and missed it completely."
"Your attorney isn't me."
The words came out more confident than I felt. But I needed Marcus to see my value. I needed him to understand that keeping me alive was worth the risk.
Marcus leaned back in his chair. He was looking at me differently now. Not like leverage. Not like property. Like something else. Something that might have been respect.
"You're going to be dangerous," he said quietly.
"To who?"
"To everyone. Including me."
Before I could respond, his phone rang. He looked at the screen. His expression went dark.
"It's my father," he said. He answered. "What is it?"
I couldn't hear Anthony's side of the conversation. But I watched Marcus's face change. Watched him go absolutely still.
"When?" Marcus asked. His voice was cold. Controlled. Deadly.
Pause.
"I'll handle it."
He hung up. He looked at me with an expression that made my stomach drop.
"What happened?" I whispered.
"Your father," Marcus said. "Someone just tried to kill him."