Chapter 6: Handcuffs and Consequences

The city hospital couldn’t fit me in for weeks. I couldn’t wait. Every day, the secret inside me grew, harder to ignore.

I booked a trip upstate, found a small town with a private clinic. The kind of place with farmers’ markets and American flags on every porch. I could hide here, at least for a little while.

Sophia’s Instagram was full of updates. Lucas had his surgery—"Successful," she posted, prayer hands and hearts. They were planning a huge wedding, some reality star as the emcee. The ring alone was worth more than my life.

I shut off my phone. My reflection in the black screen looked tired, ordinary, and very much alone.

I still had eight million. That was something.

Before the procedure, I let myself eat whatever I wanted—apple cider donuts, local cheese, barbecue. I even started writing a little food guide online.

That night, after dinner, I returned to the bed-and-breakfast. It smelled like cinnamon rolls and old wood. The owner called everyone "hon" and remembered my coffee order by the second morning.

Lily, my childhood friend, called from Spain. "Girl, just get over here already. I’ve got a lineup of hot guys waiting. When you’re tired of American food, we’ll try some foreign cuisine."

"Only if they’re tall and ripped," I joked, grinning.

"Six-foot-three, all abs, all yours."

We laughed until my sides hurt. For a minute, I let myself imagine a fresh start. Sangria, beaches, a life where no one knew my secrets.

Eight million. I could do anything.

I opened the apartment door and stopped cold. Lucas sat on the sofa, spinning a pair of handcuffs in his palm. The look he gave me was lethal.

My phone slipped from my hand, crashing to the floor. Lily was still talking, but I couldn’t hear her anymore.

Lucas’s eyes locked onto mine. He could see. He wasn’t blind anymore—and his fury was like a punch to the chest.

I turned to run, but two bodyguards blocked the stairs. No way out.

Had Sophia told him? Did he know everything?

Lucas picked up my phone and ended the call. He shut and locked the door, the deadbolt slamming home.

He was colder now, more dangerous. The kind of man who crushed companies before breakfast.

"Should I call you Emma now?" His voice was silk stretched over steel. He waited, letting the threat hang in the air. The room felt smaller, the walls closing in.

He came toward me, handcuffs glinting. I collapsed onto the carpet, my legs useless.

Was he going to throw me in the river like he’d threatened? I was shaking, tears blurring my vision.

He stroked my hair, but his touch was ice.

"You must be tired from running. Do you remember what happens to liars?"

He tossed the cuffs into my lap. There was nowhere left to run.