–Damon–
When my mother-in-law handed those docunts, I realized I had to take care of it—and leave the mansion. Damn it. I hated that part. I hated leaving my wife alone... well, she’s not alone, she’s with our baby, but I was being dramatic. I just hated being away from her.
I wrapped an arm around her small waist and buried my face against her neck while she was busy making fancy, chewy cookies for our son—shaped like cartoon characters he probably picked up from TV. The kitchen slled like sugar, butter, and ho.
"I hate to leave," I murmured against her skin, even though my mind was already forming a plan to retrieve the device Tyrona had.
"You can co back early," she said calmly.
She finished designing Sky’s plate, then turned to . We kissed—torrid, deep, and unashad. I pinned her lightly against the counter, heat flaring through . I could’ve made love to her right there if it weren’t for the sudden protest from our audience.
"Mama!" Sky scread in a high pitch. "Dada, no! No! No!"
Livana giggled and rubbed my back, soothing instead of him.
"Have so snacks, my love."
"Sure," I said, surrendering—for now.
I sat beside Sky, who glared at like I’d committed a cri. The mont Livana placed a fancy plate in front of him, his eyes lit up.
"Wow!"
She set a sandwich in front of —vegetables clearly visible.
"It has steak, my love." She lifted my chin and kissed it.
"Hm. Interesting," I grinned, pushing my chair back and pulling my wife onto my lap.
I took a bite and had to admit—out loud—that it was perfect. High-grade beef, lting in my mouth. The vegetables, cheese, and barbecue sauce were balanced just right.
"Mama," Sky raised his arms from the high chair, clearly demanding her.
"It’s alright, Sky. Enjoy your cookies," I told him.
He pouted, lips wobbling.
Dramatic. As always.
"Mama."
"It’s alright, baby," Livana said gently, wiping his tears. "Daddy will be gone for a few hours, and I’m going to miss him. Later, it’ll be just us."
"Mama’s boy," I muttered, shaking my head.
Livana finally stood, poured freshly squeezed juice into Sky’s bottle, and set it in front of him. He took a sip—then still raised his arms dramatically.
I took another bite of my sandwich, enjoying my wife’s cooking while watching my son be impossibly clingy.
"Seriously?" I sighed, shaking my head.
Eventually, Livana picked him up, and I gently pulled them both onto my lap. Sky grabbed my face and squeezed it.
"Foodie, Dada. Foodieeee."
"I am eating," I told him.
"Sky, you’re getting too heavy," I sighed, rubbing Livana’s back. She fed our baby boy, who smiled up at her adorably.
"Sky—"
"Hm?" He turned to with the sa eyes as my wife. "Foodie?" He took a piece of his cookie and shoved it into my mouth.
Livana laughed—soft, beautiful, and completely lethal to my heart.
After our little snack break, Livana cleaned up while I stood and kissed my baby boy, then kissed my wife’s lips.
"I’ll be going now. I’ll be back as soon as I can."
"Be safe."
"Mm. I will." I kissed her again, pressed my lips to her neck, and squeezed her tightly.
"Go now," she said, pushing gently. "So you can co ho early."
I grinned, then turned to Sky. He raised his arms as I bent down and kissed his forehead.
"I’ll be back, buddy. Make sure to lose a little weight."
"Bye-bye!"
He really does love it when I leave.
I took my car. I needed to go alone—even though my wife wouldn’t like that idea.
As I drove, my thoughts drifted back to my mother-in-law’s warnings. Dela Vega’s dirty sches. The Blackwell secrets that could be our downfall.
If they truly had that information, I wondered why they hadn’t released it yet. Still, there were too many attempts to intercept our shipnts. Every ti, we were saved—by my wife, and by my mother-in-law.
I arrived at my underground office after a six-hour drive. I took several detours along the way, had my agents create diversions—layers upon layers—so I wouldn’t be traced. By the ti I stepped inside, I was already ten moves ahead of anyone foolish enough to follow .
Kai approached imdiately, arms full of paperwork. Thick folders. Heavy problems.
"Perfect. Now work with this," he said, just as I raised my forefinger, eyes still glued to my phone.
I didn’t need to look up. He understood.
It was already morning. Lore was probably awake by now—overcaffeinated, overconfident, and dangerous in the best way. I transferred him one million without hesitation, attaching a short ssage and a request.
No explanations needed.
I was certain he’d work it out.
–Lore–
My job? Just a student with a few sidelines—doing whatever I want, exactly how Alyssa wants to.
So this ti, she overslept.
I knocked on her door—nearly banging it down—then opened it without waiting. She was still sprawled across her bed, buried in blankets like the world hadn’t invented responsibility yet. Even if school was just a ten-minute drive from our apartnt, it would still take her hours to get ready.
I walked over, grabbed the nearest pillow, and smacked her on the side.
She startled awake and shot upright, glaring at like I’d committed a felony.
"Get up," I said flatly.
"It’s too early," she pouted.
I placed her insulated bottle on the bedside table. "Drink this. It’s warm. And get up."
"I hate going out."
"But reality doesn’t care." I smoothed her hair down, fixing it with practiced fingers. "You have to go out because you’re a college student."
Then I ssed it up again imdiately, laughing as she shrieked at .
I bolted out of her room and into mine, locking the door behind . I powered up my computer, and right on cue—a notification from Damon. Asking for help.
Yeah. I’d already heard about this. Tyrona had the drive.
I leaned back in my chair, staring at the screen. A mont later, Damon sent one million pesos.
I sighed and rolled my eyes. Damn him. Is he trying to boycott or bribe ?
"I just need to get close to Tyrona’s sister," I muttered. "Then it’ll all be over."
Yeah. That was doable.
I nodded to myself, then glanced at the door. I didn’t want Alyssa involved... but she needed to know. Especially since I was about to do work like this—and I really didn’t want her drowning herself in alcohol once she found out I’d be flirting with one of her bullies.
I sighed.
Love-bombing had beco my specialty lately. I’d literally just slept with a girl who had the audacity to ss with Alyssa.
Honestly, what did I expect? I’m ridiculously handso.
"Lore!"
The door burst open. Alyssa stood there in Lululemon yoga pants, an oversized top, bare face, no makeup—just sunglasses hiding her eyes.
"Let’s go," she said. Her voice sounded lifeless.
"Wow," I murmured. "You prepared too fast."
I shut down my computer. "By the way, I’ve got work. I’ll explain the details later." I slung my backpack over my shoulder, draped an arm around her, and took her bag. "Poor Aly," I chuckled.
We headed downstairs and took my Mustang. I drove while she napped in the shotgun seat. After parking, I walked her to our first subject of the day. I took off my jacket and folded it into a makeshift pillow. Then I pulled out an inflatable neck pillow from my bag, pressed the button, and—bam—perfect support.
I placed it carefully around her neck. She slid off her sunglasses, pulled her hood over her head, and buried her face into my jacket.
I took out my device and recorded the entire lecture. Then I pulled my chair closer to her, crossed my arms, and sank into planning mode.
I needed to get close to her bullies.
That was the cleanest way to uncover the real mastermind—and gather intel on how to retrieve that drive.
I slid my sunglasses on, closed my eyes, and rested my hand lightly against Alyssa’s back. A fail-safe. If I dozed off, I’d still know she was there. I’d know the mont she moved.
My phone vibrated repeatedly.
I checked it under the table—Damon again.
I sent him a thumbs-up. I’d take the million and treat Alyssa sowhere nice later.
I pulled out my compact laptop, just wide enough to cover the keyboard, and started typing. Profiles. Data. Patterns.
Social dia. Habits. Locations.
We were sitting in the farthest corner of the room. I positioned my backpack to my right, shielding my screen from wandering eyes.
Tracey Dela Vega’s feed flooded my display.
Likes. Dislikes. Posts. Check-ins. Even her probable current location.
Next—Theresa.
I needed to know if she’d interacted with any of Alyssa’s bullies. At this point, I knew all their nas by heart.
Then there was Paul. Alyssa’s forr suitor.
I rested my chin in my palm, thinking.
I couldn’t be too sweet with Alyssa. Not yet. I needed them to believe we were at war. That distance would make manipulation easy.
They wanted to see Alyssa fall.
Fine.
We’d give them exactly what they wanted—just not the ending they were expecting.
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