The next morning, I woke up with the determination to move my investigation forward. I couldn’t allow myself to second-guess anymore; I needed to confront my doubts head-on. After receiving a late-night message from Greg confirming that the private investigator was analyzing the photos I’d taken, I knew my next step: I had to keep close to Richard without raising suspicion.My phone buzzed with another message—this time from Sarah, Richard’s wife.“Ms. Margarette, it was lovely meeting you at the gala. Richard and I were discussing the possibility of collaborating with your resort. Let’s schedule a meeting.”Her text was polite, professional, and unnervingly convenient. Was this an opportunity or a trap?Later that day, as I sat in the conference room of the casino’s business wing, I prepared myself for the meeting. Sarah had brought the proposal for her travel company to integrate luxury packages with Montefalco Casino Resort. It was a lucrative concept, but my focus was on the man s
The dinner concluded without any more noticeable tension, but the unease in my chest lingered. I felt as though I was navigating a labyrinth, with Richard—or Leon—deliberately placing roadblocks at every turn. His calculated demeanor only fueled my determination to uncover the truth.The following day, Greg sent a cryptic text: I’ve found something. You’ll want to see this.We met in a secluded café downtown. Greg was seated at a corner table, his laptop open and his expression grim.“What is it?” I asked, sliding into the chair across from him.Greg turned the screen toward me. “I dug into Richard Ledesma’s background. His records only go back three years. Before that, it’s a dead end.”I frowned. “That doesn’t prove anything. People can start fresh.”Greg smirked, shaking his head. “I thought the same, but then I checked immigration records. He entered the country three years ago under the name Richard Ledesma—on the same day Leon Montefalco was declared dead.”My heart stopped. “W
The air between us crackled with tension as Richard—or Leon—stood there, his face shadowed under the chandelier's light. My breath caught in my throat as every nerve in my body screamed at me to demand the truth.But his expression stopped me cold. There was something different about him. A determination, a vulnerability I hadn't seen in Richard before. It was hauntingly familiar, like the Leon I had known, but more guarded.“Margarette,” he said softly, stepping closer. “Please, we need to talk. Privately.”I folded my arms tightly across my chest, willing my voice not to betray the storm raging inside me. “You’ve got a lot of nerve coming here after everything, don’t you think?”He sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly. “I know how this looks. But I need you to hear me out.”“Do you?” My voice came out sharper than I intended, but I didn’t care. “Do you need me to hear how you let me think you were dead for over a year? How you’ve been parading around as someone else with a new wi
The moment Richard walked into my house, the tension between us was palpable. I stood by the window, arms crossed, gazing out at the city lights, trying to calm the storm brewing inside me. His footsteps were deliberate, measured, as if he wasn’t sure whether to sit or stand."Margarette," he began softly, "we need to talk."I turned to face him, meeting his steady gaze. For a second, my heart betrayed me, skipping a beat at the sight of him—so familiar yet so distant. But the pain of his denial and rejection quickly replaced any warmth I felt."We've been talking," I said coldly. "And all you've been doing is denying who you are, Leon. Or should I say Richard?"He flinched slightly at the name, his jaw tightening. "I came here because I need you to stop," he said firmly. "You’re not just hurting yourself; you’re hurting me. And Sarah."At the mention of her name, a bitter laugh escaped my lips. "Sarah? Of course. Why wouldn’t she be the center of your world now? She’s the reason you’r
Perhaps the weight of the conversation made the phone feel heavier than usual against my ear.“Do you understand, Greg?” I spoke, attempting to maintain a steady tone. “I need everything about Richard Ledesma—his past, his present, and any connection he might have had to Leon.”“Yes, Ms. Margarette,” the investigator replied on the other end of the line. “I’m already on it. I’ve found some leads that suggest Richard’s timeline before meeting Sarah isn’t as clear as he claims. I’ll update you within the next few days.”“Good,” I murmured, my grip tightening on the phone. “Keep me posted.”I ended the call and stared at the device in my hand, my heart pounding. There was progress, but it still wasn’t enough. I needed more. I needed something solid—something undeniable—to expose Richard for who he truly was.Just as I placed the phone on the table, I felt the couch shift beside me. Turning my head, I found William sitting down, his face calm but his eyes carrying a weight I hadn’t notice
Guilt had a way of lingering, clinging to the edges of my thoughts like a shadow I couldn’t shake. Ever since my conversation with William yesterday, his words had played on a loop in my mind: “Sometimes, I wonder if I’m just a placeholder until you find what you’re really looking for.”I hated how true those words felt. William had always been there for me, patient and supportive, even when I was consumed by my search for answers about Leon—or Richard, as he now called himself. But in my quest for the truth, I’d been blind to the toll it had taken on the one person who stood by me unconditionally.Sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee growing cold in front of me, I decided I needed to make things right. I couldn’t erase the hurt I’d caused, but I could try to show William how much he meant to me.By late morning, I was on my way to William’s office. I’d packed a small box of his favorite pastries and coffee from the café he loved, hoping it would serve as a peace offering
The evening air was heavy with the scent of cedar as I stepped into my house in Anacortes. The soft yellow glow of the lamps couldn’t ease the turmoil inside me. My hands trembled as I closed the door behind me, my heart still racing from everything I’d witnessed earlier at William’s office.“Lena?” I called out, my voice wavering as I made my way down the hallway.“In here!” came her cheerful reply from the living room.When I stepped inside, Lena was lounging on the couch, her laptop balanced on her knees. She looked up at me, her face immediately clouding with concern.“What’s wrong?” she asked, setting her laptop aside and standing.I didn’t have the energy to answer her question directly. Instead, I blurted out, “I need your help packing.”Lena’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Packing? For what?”“I’ve booked a flight to Vancouver tomorrow morning,” I replied, trying to keep my voice steady. “We’re going home.”Lena stared at me, wide-eyed. “Wait, what? Home? Why? What’s going on?
The morning sun filtered through the sheer curtains of Aunt Lou’s cozy living room, casting soft patterns across the wooden floors. I sat cross-legged on the couch, a mug of tea warming my hands. Across from me, Aunt Lou watched me intently, her eyes full of concern and patience.“It’s been days, Margarette,” she said softly, breaking the silence. “You’ve barely talked about what’s going on.”I sighed, staring into the swirling tea. “There’s not much to say,” I murmured, though the knot in my chest told a different story. “I saw William with that woman, Aunt Lou. She was fixing his tie, laughing like they shared some private joke. And William... he didn’t even look guilty.”Aunt Lou leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “But did you hear his explanation? Maybe it wasn’t what it looked like.”I shook my head. “I left before he could say anything. And now, the more I think about it, the more I feel like no explanation would change how I felt in that moment. My gut tells me so
The days turned into weeks, and for the first time in a long time, my life wasn’t consumed by revenge or survival. It was strange, almost unsettling, to wake up without the weight of the past pressing down on me.But Leon made it easier.We spent our days in a quiet rhythm—mornings wrapped in each other, afternoons exploring parts of the city I had never truly appreciated, and evenings spent talking about everything and nothing.One afternoon, Leon surprised me with a drive outside the city. The road stretched ahead of us, winding through rolling green hills and open fields.I turned to him, curious. “Where are we going?”He glanced at me with a smirk. “You’ll see.”After about an hour, we pulled up to a secluded property. A modern house with wide glass windows sat on a hill, overlooking a lake. The air smelled of fresh grass and wildflowers, and the only sound was the distant chirping of birds.I stepped out of the car, taking in the view. “Leon… what is this place?”He walked up bes
The days that followed were a whirlwind of chaos.My father’s downfall was splashed across every news outlet. Financial crimes, money laundering, illegal dealings—his empire was collapsing, and with it, his reputation. His allies abandoned him one by one, choosing self-preservation over loyalty.But he wasn’t the kind of man to go down without a fight.That’s why I wasn’t surprised when I received the message.A single text.Suite 1103. One last talk. Come alone.Leon was furious. “Absolutely not.”I expected that reaction. I also knew there was no changing my mind.“Leon, this is my fight. My ending to write.”His eyes darkened. “He’s cornered, Margarette. That makes him more dangerous than ever.”I reached for his hand, squeezing it. “I’ll be fine.”He exhaled sharply. “I don’t trust him.”I smiled softly. “Good. Neither do I.”The Last Conversation—AgainSuite 1103 was dimly lit when I walked in. My father sat by the window, a drink in his hand, staring out at the city he once rule
We had expected my father to retaliate, but I knew he wouldn’t be careless. No, he’d take his time. He’d make sure his counterattack hurt.Which meant we had to strike first.Leon was already making calls before I even had to say anything. His contacts, his men—every piece of leverage we had was being mobilized.Victor paced across the penthouse, his expression tense. “Margarette, I don’t think you understand how much you just provoked him.”I crossed my arms. “Oh, I understand, Victor. That’s the point.”Leon smirked at my words, but his eyes were sharp as he cut in. “We need to draw him out. He’s not going to sit back and lick his wounds. He’s going to come for you.”Victor sighed. “And you’re just waiting for that to happen?”I walked over to the window, watching the city below. “No.” My voice was calm. “We’re leading him exactly where we want.”Victor ran a hand through his hair. “And where is that, exactly?”Leon leaned against the counter, his voice casual but firm. “A place whe
Dorian was right. My father wasn’t sitting idle. He was moving his pieces, fortifying his position before I could strike.But he underestimated me.By morning, I was already on the phone, making calls, pulling in every favor I had left. I wasn’t just going to fight him—I was going to destroy him.Leon watched me from across the kitchen, leaning against the counter, sipping his coffee. His shirt was unbuttoned at the top, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and despite the weight of everything we were up against, he looked completely composed.It irritated me.“Do you ever worry?” I muttered, ending a call and tossing my phone on the counter.Leon smirked. “Constantly.”I gave him a look. “You don’t seem worried.”He set his mug down and closed the distance between us. “Because I don’t show it the way you do.”I exhaled. “I feel like we’re on the edge of something big. Like we’re one wrong move away from losing everything.”Leon tilted his head slightly, studying me. “Margarette.” His
Leon didn’t speak much after that. The drive back was filled with nothing but the hum of the tires on the road and the unspoken weight between us. I wanted to say something—anything—to make him look at me the way he used to. But I knew this wasn’t the time.When we pulled into the underground parking lot of our penthouse, Leon shut off the engine and exhaled through his nose. His hands remained on the wheel, knuckles white.I unbuckled my seatbelt. “Leon—”He turned to me, his eyes dark and unreadable. “You just declared war on your father, Margarette.”I swallowed. “You think I don’t know that?”“That’s the problem.” He ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. “This isn’t just about exposing his corruption. Harlan Westwood isn’t the kind of man who forgives betrayal. And you just put a target on your back.”I clenched my jaw. “I’ve had a target on my back ever since I decided to take back what’s mine.”Leon let out a humorless laugh. “And you think he’s just going to let you?”I reac
The night was deceptively peaceful. The city lights stretched far beyond the penthouse windows, illuminating a world that had no idea of the chaos brewing beneath the surface.Leon stood by the window, his sleeves rolled up, his jaw clenched in quiet contemplation. He hadn’t said much since our meeting at the club.I knew why.We had allies now, but it wasn’t enough.We needed more.“Tell me what’s going on in that head of yours,” I said, stepping closer.Leon’s fingers tightened around the glass in his hand. “There’s a war coming, Margarette. And I don’t know if I can keep you safe through it.”I scoffed. “You’re still underestimating me?”His jaw ticked. “No. I just—” He exhaled sharply, turning to face me. “I can’t lose you.”The words hit harder than they should have.I swallowed, pushing down the sudden rush of emotion. “Then don’t.”Leon studied me for a long moment, his eyes dark and unreadable. Then, before I could react, he pulled me flush against him, his lips capturing mine
By the next morning, the fallout had already begun.Leon and I sat in his penthouse, reviewing the reports pouring in from our contacts. Calloway’s operation had taken a major hit—his Russian allies were furious, his supply lines were compromised, and his reputation was crumbling.But we both knew it wasn’t over.Calloway wouldn’t take this loss lying down.Leon’s fingers drummed against the table, his jaw tight. “He’ll retaliate.”I nodded. “It’s just a matter of when.”Leon’s phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen, then answered with a clipped, “What?”A pause.Then his expression darkened.“When?” he demanded.Another pause.“Where is she now?”I sat up straighter, sensing the shift in his energy.Then Leon cursed under his breath and ended the call.“What happened?” I asked.He stood, already grabbing his keys. “Alexa was taken.”My blood ran cold. “By Calloway?”Leon’s jaw clenched. “Looks like it.”I shot up from my seat. “Then let’s go get her.”Alexa’s location was traced to a
The ride back to the penthouse was silent, tension thick in the air. Leon drove with one hand on the wheel, the other gripping his gun. His jaw was locked, his eyes dark.I knew that look.He was planning. Calculating.“Calloway just declared war,” I murmured, watching the city lights blur past the windshield.Leon exhaled sharply. “He did more than that. He underestimated us.”I studied his profile—the controlled rage simmering beneath his calm demeanor. He wasn’t just angry. He was ready to make a move.“We need to hit back,” I said.Leon’s grip tightened. “We will.”His phone buzzed. He glanced at it, then tossed it onto the dashboard. “My father.”“Answer it,” I urged.Leon let out a slow breath before pressing the call button. “Yeah?”His father’s voice was sharp. “I assume you’re still alive.”Leon smirked. “Disappointed?”A pause. Then, “Get to the estate. Now.”The line went dead.Leon exhaled through his nose, tossing his phone onto his lap. “That’s never a good sign.”I lean
Days passed, but the unease in Leon hadn’t faded. He kept himself busy, making calls, arranging meetings, tightening security. I watched him closely, noting the way his shoulders carried an unseen weight. His father’s sudden reappearance had unsettled him more than he let on.One evening, as we lay in bed, I turned to him, brushing my fingers over his chest. “Leon, talk to me.”He exhaled, his arm tightening around me. “It’s nothing.”I propped myself up on my elbow, searching his face. “It’s not nothing. You’re restless. You barely sleep.”His jaw clenched, and for a moment, I thought he would brush me off again. But then, he spoke.“When I was younger, my father used to tell me that in our world, loyalty is everything,” he said, his voice low. “But he also told me that loyalty is never free—it’s bought, traded, or forced.”I frowned. “You think he came back because he wants something from you?”Leon nodded. “My father has never been a man who does things without a reason. If he’s he