Riley Collins POV:

Any hint of a smile vanished when I walked through the door and spotted Luca inside. He stood with his back to me, slipping off his shoes as if he belonged here—like this place was his private sanctuary instead of my gilded cage.

"Did you lose your way, or are you planning to redecorate my prison?" I stopped just inside the threshold, voice steady.

He didn't even bother to turn, loosening his tie with a slow indifference that set my nerves on edge.

Eventually, he glanced over, calm as ever. "I figured it was obvious. We're married, remember? Married couples share a room. If I ever grow bored, I can always spend the night elsewhere. But tonight, I'll be staying here."

A hollow laugh slipped out. "You call this marriage? That contract was signed with threats and loaded guns, Luca. You put one to my head and locked me up, don't pretend you've forgotten."

He shrugged, a careless motion. "Still counts. My signature's on the paperwork. And this bed's not exactly cramped."

Crossing my arms, I stepped further into the room.

"Then I'll take the floor," I responded, reaching for a blanket.

A quiet, derisive chuckle escaped him. He closed the distance at a lazy pace, the air around him thick with warning. I stayed rooted, but my pulse hammered when he gently pulled the blanket away.

He moved in until there was nowhere left for me to retreat, the wall pressing cold against my back. One hand braced near my head, the other hidden away in his pocket, and I found myself distracted by the warmth of his cologne.

Why did he always have to smell so damn good?

"Are you going to swing at me if I move any closer?" he said in a low voice, leaning in until his breath warmed my cheek. He took his time staring at my mouth and the clean lines of my jaw. He didn't look young. He carried the kind of age that settled around forty. "Or are you going to start begging when I'm inside you again?"

My throat tightened. I despised how easily he could take control with a single look. His body hovered near mine. T he smell of expensive cigarettes, leather, and some cologne he probably knew could get under my skin wrapped around me.

"I liked the way you looked down there. Even with that terrible hood and that awful outfit. Your pussy holds tight around me. Maybe I'll taste your lips next." His whisper brushed my ear as my hand searched for something steady and found the wall.

Nothing stung worse than knowing I actually wanted him. Some reckless urge in me wanted his lips against mine. That would put an end to this twisted back-and-forth. That would let me feel anything besides this fear that had clung to me all day, after everything we'd survived.

He just laughed. The sound cut through the tension. He drew back a step and looked at me with the kind of scorn that made my skin crawl.

"Calm down, princess. Tonight isn't the night."

My fists tightened at my sides. I forced myself to inhale and steady my nerves.

"If you're desperate for my attention, you're going to have to step up your game. My lovers have some sense of style. Right now, you look like you escaped from a church retreat."

The heat of embarrassment and anger flushed through me.

"Oh, I thought you had a thing for meek little brides. Maybe that's why you have to drag the bride to the altar and rob your own brother at the wedding."

He went rigid. The look in his eyes shifted, something raw and dangerous surfacing.

"What's the matter? Did I hit a nerve?" I asked, the sarcasm heavy in my voice. "Don't worry, 'boss.' You're not the only one who's not in the mood tonight."

I half-expected him to shove me away or storm off. But instead, he stepped closer. In one quick motion, he seized my wrist and yanked me forward. Before I could even catch my breath, he tore my coat off with a rough tug.

"Luca!" I shouted, struggling to break free, but he was already fumbling with the zipper of my pants, his anger boiling over.

"You really know how to wind me up, and now you want to back out? Sorry, but I'm not letting you walk away."

"Stop it!" I screamed, my voice breaking through the room. Fear hammered in my chest, sharp and relentless. "I'm telling you, I don't want this. Just stop!"

For a brief moment, he went still. His jaw tightened. His eyes bored into me, cold and unflinching.

"I said no," I repeated, standing my ground. "You don't get to decide when you touch me."

Neither of us moved. The air crackled, heavy with all the things neither world should have ever shared.

Holding back his anger, Luca let out a slow breath. He snatched my coat from the chair and tossed it in my direction.

"Put this on."

"Are you walking out?" I asked, my hands shaking as I caught the coat.

"I'm staying. We'll deal with this tomorrow," he said, his back turned. "Trust me, darling, when I'm interested, I make it worth your while. All it takes is the right outfit, the right attitude... You'll be begging for it again. A stack of cash makes anyone eager."

"You're an idiot. I'm not some thing you can buy."

"You only offered yourself because you thought he was the one, didn't you?" he said as his fingers tightened around my cheeks, forcing me to meet his stare. "Go on. Let your mind wander to that fool again, and you'll learn exactly who you're dealing with. If I ever catch you dreaming about Jackson, Riley, I'll end you."

"Relax. I can't stand either of you. Whether it's you or him, it makes no difference. The feeling is the same. I lost a year of my life because of him, locked away. And I got dragged into a marriage with a gun pointed at my head. You have no idea how much that broke me."

He went quiet after that. His eyes drifted over me once, slow and unreadable, before he dismissed me altogether.

"Get some rest, Riley. Your little speech tired me out." He removed his clothes until he was standing in nothing but his underwear. Then he fell into bed without a care.

"You've got a good body," he added. His toned stomach flexed as he shifted, and I hated myself for noticing.

I stayed rooted to the spot. My breath came too fast. My coat hung uselessly in my arms, and my pants were still ripped open around my ankles.

I should have been terrified.

Yet what rose inside me wasn't fear. Hatred spread through me like fire.

Some twisted urge in me wanted to stare at Luca while he lounged in his underwear, hoping for the kind of comfort he'd never offer. I wished he would reach out, wrap his arms around me, press his lips to mine, and promise me that things would turn out fine. That fantasy faded as quickly as it appeared. He wasn't the type to offer kindness, and there was nobody else waiting to pick up the pieces.

That's fine. I'll figure it all out on my own.

Riley Collins's POV:

Sleep found me somehow, though I couldn't say how or why.

The sheets were cool and the mattress inviting, but what truly dragged me under was pure emotional exhaustion.

Luca spent the night lying next to me. He never reached for me or said a word. His breath came steady and close, and every so often, he'd shoot me a look, like he had something to get off his chest but never let it out. I kept my distance, staying right on the mattress's edge, barely daring to breathe.

By the time morning arrived, he was gone. He left no message, not even the scent of fresh coffee lingering in the air. The only sign he'd ever been there was the lingering warmth on his side of the bed, proof he'd left not long ago.

After a long breath, I got dressed in the outfit he'd picked out. There was a neat label: Monday, closet. I made my way out to the living room, where the driver stood waiting, face unreadable behind dark glasses.

"The boss wants you at St. James Hospital."

Without a word, I slid into the back seat. At last, I thought. Maybe today I'd finally see my little sister.

---

The car eased up to the curb at the hospital, nerves winding tight in my stomach. A security guard held the door as I stepped inside, the atmosphere heavier than usual.

Down the hall, a nurse darted past, guiding a stretcher shrouded in a bloodied sheet.

Pushing away my unease, I went straight to the front desk.

"Excuse me... Emma Collins. Can you tell me which room she's in?"

The receptionist tapped at the keyboard for a moment, then paused and shook his head.

"We don't have anyone registered under that name. Not in the patient list and not in the emergency room."

"Check again. Emma Collins. My sister was brought here over a year ago. She was in an accident..." My voice wavered toward the end.

"Miss, there's nothing in the system. Are you sure this is the right hospital?"

"Yes. I filled out the paperwork myself. This can't be happening. I called here yesterday."

"I only started a few days ago. My shift just began, so I don't recognize every name."

"My sister is eighteen. Fair skin. Brown hair." Each word pushed up against my rising panic.

"I'm sorry, ma'am. If you'd like, I can get the supervisor—"

"Get them. Now!" I yelled, shaking uncontrollably.

The driver stepped forward and tried to steady me, his voice low and even. "Mrs. Riley, please don't raise your voice. Let's sort this out calmly—"

"You knew!" I shouted, tearing away from his grip. "Tell me what you did to her!"

My hands shook so badly I could barely keep them at my sides. Every breath seemed thinner than the last. I turned in frantic circles, searching the hallways for any sign of Emma. Each glance turned up nothing— just strangers and empty corridors.

A cold dread settled in my stomach.

I staggered away from the desk, lightheaded and adrift, every step making the hospital feel less familiar.

None of this made sense. Jackson had promised to handle everything. He said she'd be here. They all did.

What if this had been a setup from the very start?

Shallow breaths came faster. The room began to tilt, the floor shifting under my feet.

"Get a grip," I whispered to myself. "Breathe. You can do this. Just focus."

A sudden uproar snapped me out of my daze.

Doctors raced down the corridor. A nurse rushed past, guiding a stretcher draped in a blood-soaked sheet.

I spun toward the source of the chaos, trying to make sense of it all.

"Major accident just outside the entrance!" someone shouted. The staff scrambled, tension crackling in the air.

Near the reception desk, a figure caught my eye. He sat off to the side, gaze fixed on me with unsettling intensity.

His hair stuck up in uneven strands, his eyes narrowed like the lights were too bright, and his shirt clung neatly to his frame.

"Luca?" I murmured, inching toward him.

But then the scent hit me—harsh cigarettes, garlic clinging to his clothes. No tattoo on his neck. And that stare... it wasn't Luca's familiar mix of hunger and fury. It was flat, sharp, dripping pure disdain.

My steps froze as if the floor had turned to glue.

"Hello...?" I whispered.

He lifted his chin, offering a twisted, exhausted smile. Yet something flickered in his gaze— something dark, something wrong.

This wasn't my husband.

A cold shiver crawled down my spine.

And not the kind that came from desire.

"Jackson," I whispered, already easing back, pulse hammering in my ears.

He arched a brow, clearly pleased I'd recognized him.

"You're... bleeding," I said quietly, attempting to steady my voice. I couldn't provoke him. Not here.

"Nothing serious enough to stop me from keeping my promises," he replied with a mocking curl of his lip. "I don't vanish that easily, Riley."

Fear pounded through me. Anger, too.

Because here he was.

The man who shoved a pen into my hand and forced me to sign away my life, only to abandon me at the altar for another woman.

The man who dragged me into a world I never chose.

"Where is my sister?"

A sly, mocking grin stretched across Jackson's face. He looked around like this was some casual chat in a cafe.

"There's no file on her here. You were supposed to keep track of that, not me. I did everything you asked. You know that."

"Did you really think I'd just hand you the one thing you cared about most?"

"Jackson..." My throat tightened on his name.

"Emma isn't here anymore," he said, stepping closer. "Maybe she got transferred. Maybe she's under watch somewhere else. Or maybe... she's just another chip in the game. You ever think of that?"

My knees buckled. The driver reached out, trying to hold me up, but I shook him off.

"You're sick! You put me through hell. Locked away for a year because of you. Forced into a marriage with a stranger—humiliated in front of everyone. Isn't that enough?"

"Look at you. The moment things got tough, you went running to my brother. You think I didn't see that? If you want your precious sister back, you'll do exactly what I say."

"He was going to kill me! You almost ended up dead yourself. And now you're threatening me?"

"Whether I step in or not makes no difference to me. You know what's on the line. If you want your sister to live, you'll do exactly as I say. If not, I'll deal with it my own way—and you'll be planning her funeral."

Emma was the only thing that mattered now.

If I wanted any hope of bringing her back, I had to rely on myself. I needed to find a way out, to play along just long enough to turn the tables on Jackson.

No matter the cost, I would see this through. Even if it was the last fight I ever won.

"Tell me what you want, Jackson." He jerked his chin toward the door, a silent order for Luca's driver to give us privacy.

Riley Collins's POV:

Once the driver stepped away, Jackson's entire demeanor shifted. He straightened his shoulders, eyes burning with superiority, as if he held my entire fate in his hands.

"Your sister's future depends on you," he said, cold and detached, as if reading me tomorrow's headlines. "If you ever want to see her alive, you'll do exactly as I say."

A shiver ran down my spine. My instincts screamed for me to run, but I stood my ground.

"What do you want from me?" I asked, voice barely above a whisper but steady. "You've already taken everything. There's nothing left."

That twisted smirk crept across his face, poison lurking in the curve of his lips.

"I want you to dig up your marriage certificate with Luca. Hide it. Keep it out of sight. And you're bringing it to me— today."

"What? How am I supposed to get that past him? Luca keeps track of my every move. He hardly lets me breathe without his approval. And why do you even care about that document?"

A harsh laugh escaped him, echoing down the hall. Leaning in, his words came out in a low, biting whisper.

"Time keeps going and you never get any smarter, Riley." He stepped back and said, "Today is the official reading of my father's will. Want to hear the twist? The business gets handed to whichever child is legally married. But I was never really married to you, or to Luca. Neither of those weddings was ever recorded. That whole show was just a way for my father to tighten his grip on everyone. It doesn't count for anything." He brought his hand near my face, so I slapped it away, and the sharp sound caught the attention of the nurses in the hallway.

"Are you really looking for trouble, sweetheart?"

Right now, I'm Luca Black's wife, so don't lay a finger on me ever again.

"You never believe me when I call you clueless. You are not his wife. The judge is dead. Is that not obvious enough for you? Who's going to make any of this official?"

My eyes went wide.

So the wedding with Luca... My knees buckled. You want the documents to... call it all off?

He gave a smug nod.

"Bring me those papers before the will is read, and I'll be there with a new set. All you need to do is sign them the way you should have the first time. Marry me."

And what about Emma? Will you let me see her?

"Of course. Her surgery is scheduled for the end of the week, but that's only happening if you do what I ask."

I glanced around the room, barely able to breathe. I tried to wrap my head around how I had ended up stuck in a game I never agreed to play.

He made his way to the doorway, leaning on his cane as he went. After fixing his shirt collar, he paused and glanced back.

"I'll take care of the witnesses. All I'm asking is that you try doing as you're told for once."

With that, he vanished down the hallway.

Left alone, I tried to steady my breath. Each word he threw at me felt like sparks on dry tinder, my nerves threatening to ignite. My chest tightened so hard it hurt to think. My sister... please, Emma.

Breathe, I reminded myself.

Soon after, the driver came back. This time, he wasn't alone. An older man walked beside him, dressed in a white lab coat, his face lined with exhaustion but sharp with purpose. The driver made quick work of introductions.

"This is Dr. Reinald Amaral, our clinical director."

He reached out to shake my hand. "Mrs. Collins Black, is that correct?" I nodded, my grip uncertain. He continued, "Mr. Black insisted I speak with you in person to clear up any confusion."

Was it possible Jackson arranged all this so quickly? Or had he set it in motion long before?

"Where's my sister?" I demanded. "Emma Collins. She's eighteen. She was brought in after a car accident. I called yesterday— her condition got worse..."

He knit his brows and checked the tablet he was holding.

"Ma'am, your sister's file was closed eleven months ago. Her discharge was confirmed, the paperwork signed. Everything here checks out."

"Discharged? That can't be right. She was still in a coma. I talked to someone yesterday."

"Can you tell me who spoke with you? Give me the attendant's name and I'll look into it right away." I could only shake my head.

"I was terrified and I didn't ask. I can't wrap my head around this."

"It's possible she was moved to another facility. I can help you search for a transfer. But I'm certain she isn't here anymore."

The floor felt like it slid out from under me.

"Then where is she?"

He let out a slow breath and reached into his coat. After pulling out a business card, he placed it in my hand.

"Because Mr. Black requested it, I'll take this case myself. If I uncover anything, you will hear from me."

My fingers trembled as I accepted the card. He gave me a steady nod before turning down the hall. The driver lingered nearby, watching me with a quiet sympathy, almost soft.

"He'll look into it. You don't have to worry."

"What's the use in all this? He answers to Jackson. Unless that snake gives him the signal, I'll never get a straight answer."

"Ah! Reinald? He's good friends with Mr. Luca. He'll do what you ask. Trust me, you're the one who holds sway here—I made that very clear to him. If you need him to walk through fire, he'll do it."

"Mr. De Luca?"

"Yes, ma'am." He led me toward the parking lot, eyes scanning our surroundings.

If the driver was telling the truth, Jackson's grip on the situation was slipping. Maybe his stories about Emma were nothing but tricks. What if I was putting my trust in the wrong man?

"Let's get going, Mrs. Riley," he said, holding the car door open.

I kept my thoughts to myself as I slipped into the seat.

Not a word passed between us on the drive back, but the silence felt heavier than any threat Jackson ever threw my way. One thing rang through my mind, relentless as a warning bell.

You could lose everything— even Emma.

This was no time to act blindly. Every move had to be calculated. Weighing my options, I realized Luca still felt safer than Jackson. Luca hated lies, and Jackson spun them like webs.

Stepping into Luca's home again, I found him waiting in the living room. His gaze ran over me, then settled on the stack of papers he held in his hands.

He glanced up from his stack of papers. "So, how did things go over there?"

My answer was silence. She was gone. Just vanished—no warning, no explanation.

"Are you actually telling the truth? Is there a sister at all, or was that just a ploy to squeeze out more money?"

"Honestly, I'm running on fumes, 'boss.' If you still have to ask that, maybe you never really knew me in the first place."

"Suit yourself. But make sure you're ready by three this afternoon. They've already set out something for you to wear. We're going out."

While I skimmed the documents, he broke off to speak to another man in the room, the guy never uncrossing his arms or looking away.

"These are your marriage papers. I'll leave them in the office. You know the drill."

"Understood, boss." Now I knew exactly where to find them. The question was whether I even wanted to touch them— let alone hand anything over to Jackson.