"Your ex."
The words echoed long after Andrew had vanished into the night.
Amelia stood frozen in the study, her mind racing.
Liam?
No. That couldn't be right.
Liam Hayes—the boy who once held her hand in Central Park, the man who kissed her like she was his future. The one who disappeared the moment her life began to crumble.
He wouldn't do this.
He couldn't.
But deep down, something inside her whispered otherwise.
Because Liam had disappeared too cleanly. Too suddenly. No contact, no explanation. Just silence… and now this?
She sank onto the nearest chair, her pulse thundering in her ears.
If Liam was involved in a hostile takeover of Andrew's company, it wasn't just betrayal.
It was war.
Two hours later, Amelia's phone buzzed with a single text.
Unknown Number: We should talk. Tomorrow. Cafe Felix. 10 AM. —L
Her hands trembled.
She hadn't heard from Liam in over a year. Not since the day her father's empire fell and her life was sold to the highest bidder.
She stared at the message, torn between fury and curiosity.
Did Andrew know Liam had reached out? Or had Liam waited until Andrew was too distracted to notice?
One thing was clear—this wasn't a coincidence.
This was part of something bigger.
And Amelia Donovan was no longer content to sit on the sidelines.
When she came down the next morning, Andrew was gone.
The staff gave her polite smiles, but there was tension in the air—tight-lipped glances, hushed whispers behind closed doors.
Something was happening.
Something big.
She barely touched her breakfast. By 9:30, she was already in a car headed downtown, nerves knotted tight in her stomach.
Felix Café hadn't changed. Still tucked between a bookstore and a florist, still too quiet for the city that roared around it.
She spotted him the moment she stepped inside.
Liam.
Dressed in a tailored gray coat, his dark hair slightly tousled, that easy, charming smile still intact—like he hadn't vanished off the face of the earth.
Like he hadn't helped destroy her life.
"Amelia," he said, standing.
She didn't return the smile.
"You have five minutes."
Liam sat back down, his smile dimming. "You look good."
"I don't need your compliments."
"Fair enough," he said, then sighed. "Look, I know you probably hate me. I deserve that."
"Then why are you here?"
He hesitated.
"Because things are in motion, and I thought you deserved to know before it all crashes down."
Her stomach twisted. "Before what crashes down?"
Liam leaned in, lowering his voice.
"Andrew isn't who you think he is."
She laughed coldly. "You're a little late for that revelation."
"I mean more than what he did to your father," Liam said. "I'm talking about Reynolds Industries. The shell companies, the laundering. The offshore accounts. There's a file. And I have it."
Her blood ran cold.
"Are you serious?"
"I wouldn't have come otherwise."
She searched his face, trying to separate truth from manipulation.
"Why are you doing this?" she asked finally. "To hurt him? Or me?"
Liam's jaw tightened. "Because I made a mistake. I should've fought for you. I should've been there. But now… maybe I can fix something."
She didn't trust him.
Not yet.
But the mention of offshore accounts—that struck a nerve. Andrew was obsessive about control. If someone had access to his secrets, it would explain the panic last night.
"Where is the file?" she asked.
"I'll send it to you," Liam said. "But be careful. Once you open that door, you can't go back."
She rose from her seat, her pulse a steady roar.
"I already opened it the night I married him."
That evening, Andrew returned—tense, his jaw locked, his movements sharp.
Amelia stood in the hallway, waiting.
"Where were you?" she asked quietly.
He didn't answer.
"Did you stop it?"
Andrew paused halfway up the stairs. "No. But I bought time."
"Because of Liam?"
He turned slowly.
"You saw him."
It wasn't a question.
"I did," she said. "He reached out. Told me about the offshore accounts. The shell companies."
Andrew's face darkened. "You believed him?"
"I don't know what to believe anymore," she admitted. "But he had a file. Said he'd send it to me."
Andrew's eyes narrowed. "Delete it."
"You haven't even seen it yet—"
"Delete it, Amelia!" His voice cracked through the air.
She flinched.
He took a breath, his tone lowering. "I'm not the man he's trying to paint me as."
"But you're not innocent, either."
"No," he admitted. "I'm not. But everything I've done—it was to protect something. This company. This life. You. Even if you can't see it."
She stared at him, caught between the man she feared and the one she was starting to understand.
"Then prove it."
His brow furrowed.
"Let me see the truth," she whispered. "All of it. Not the polished version. The real one."
Andrew's jaw flexed.
And then, slowly, he nodded.
"I'll show you."
That night, long after the estate had fallen silent, Andrew led her into the west wing.
A part of the mansion she had never entered.
He unlocked a steel-reinforced door with a biometric scan.
Inside, it wasn't a room.
It was a vault.
A cold, sleek space lined with file cabinets, safes, servers blinking quietly in the dark.
Andrew pulled open a drawer and withdrew a black folder. He handed it to her without a word.
Amelia opened it—and felt her knees weaken.
Contracts. Backroom deals. Transactions with names redacted but implications clear. Leverage over senators. Bribes masked as donations.
And yet—every paper, every signature—was airtight.
Legal. Calculated.
Unethical?
Yes.
Illegal?
Somehow… no.
Andrew watched her silently.
Finally, she asked, "Why keep this?"
"Because in this world," he said, "power doesn't come from truth. It comes from what people believe is true."
"And this?" She lifted a document with trembling fingers. "Is this who you are?"
Andrew stepped closer.
"This is who I had to become."
She met his eyes.
And for the first time… she didn't see a monster.
She saw a man who built a kingdom out of broken things.
Including her.
"I'm still not sure if I can trust you," she said.
"I don't expect you to," he replied. "But you wanted the truth. Now you have it."
A soft ping echoed from her phone.
She looked down.
Liam: Sent. Be careful.
Her heart pounded.
Now she had both versions.
Andrew's truth.
And Liam's threat.
Two kings on opposite sides of a collapsing empire.
And Amelia caught between them—holding the one thing that could burn it all down.
She turned to Andrew, gripping the folder in her hands.
"What happens," she asked softly, "if I decide to expose all of this?"
Andrew's eyes turned to ice.
"Then you'd better hope I still love you."