Chapter 1
I was the department's shame and the mob boss's kept woman.
Before my undercover narc boyfriend's cover was blown, I betrayed him to save myself. I pointed him out and shot him in the leg.
He looked at me, and the last glimmer in his eyes faded.
Three years later, he returned with honors, wearing his rank on his shoulder, and became the youngest captain of the criminal investigation unit.
In the interrogation room, he shone the glaring desk lamp in my face and said coldly, "It's been so long, Ms. Carter. That hole you made in my leg still hurts. I wonder if you've been losing sleep over that dirty money."
He set traps to gather evidence of my money laundering, trying to lock me up. But when the search team tore my place apart, they only found a cabinet full of cancer meds and an old police badge hidden in a crack in the wall.
And there was a recording I made before I died: [Mission code 003, informant Emily Carter, mission accomplished. Badge number 9527. Welcome back to the team.]
*****
The lights in the interrogation room were blinding.
Across from me sat Michael Sawyer, my ex-boyfriend and now the captain of the Criminal Investigation Unit. He aimed the lamp straight at my face.
"It's been so long, Ms. Carter," Michael said, his tone icy.
I squinted instinctively. Three years had gone by, but his face was still etched into my mind.
The tenderness that once lived there had vanished, leaving only coldness and resentment.
"That hole you made in my leg still hurts," he said.
He pointed to his right leg, and even through those crisp police pants, I could almost picture the jagged scar underneath. I was the one who put it there.
"I wonder if you've been losing sleep over that dirty money," he said.
I tugged at the corner of my mouth but stayed silent.
What could I say? That I had no choice? Or that every night, I need meds to get any sleep?
He wouldn't believe me anyway.
Seeing me stay silent, Michael's anger boiled over. He slammed a stack of files down on the table.
He sneered, "You got used to being Kingston Roper's lover, huh? Heard he spent a fortune on a mansion for you. Enjoying it, aren't you? Emily, you really make me sick."
Each word cut deep, like a blade slicing through me.
Under the table, my hand gripped the hem of my shirt so tightly that my nails bit into my flesh. The sting kept me sharp.
"Captain Sawyer, unless you have real evidence, I suggest you stop with the personal attacks," I replied, raised my head, and stared him down. "I'm here to cooperate with the investigation, not to reminisce."
Michael sneered and slid a photo out from the stack of files.
In the photo, I was holding onto the arm of a middle-aged man, walking into a high-end restaurant.
The man was Kingston, the city's most notorious crime boss.
He was also the one Michael had been targeting during his undercover days.
"Evidence?" Michael scoffed. "You're always seen with him, managing his criminal operations, even laundering his dirty money. Isn't that enough proof?"
He stood up, looking down at me with cold contempt. "Emily, did you really think you could hide everything from me? I came back to personally throw you in prison."
The hatred in his eyes was so intense that it felt like it could swallow me whole.
My heart clenched, and I tasted blood in the back of my throat. I forced it down.
"I didn't launder money," I said. "All my income is legitimate. Kingston's company has the most professional legal and financial teams. Every cent is clean and accounted for."
Michael looked at me like I'd told the world's biggest joke.
"Alright, then," he sneered. "Let's see how tough you really are."
He turned to the officer beside him and gave the order. "Tell the search team to search every property registered under Emily's name immediately. Don't overlook a single trace."
"Yes, Captain," the officer replied and left to carry out the order.
The door to the interrogation room closed behind him, leaving the two of us alone.
The air was so stifling. I could barely breathe.
Michael sat back down and leaned forward, speaking each word with deliberate emphasis. "Emily, I'm going to make sure you never see the outside again."
With that, he stood up and walked out without a backward glance.
The door to the interrogation room opened and closed again.
That blinding light finally switched off.
In the darkness, I began to cough, slowly at first, but then it grew harsher.
I was released on bail.
Kingston's lawyer worked fast. Less than three hours after I was taken in, he had everything sorted out.
As I stepped out of the police station, a black Bentley was waiting by the curb.
The driver opened the door, and Kingston sat in the back seat, a cigar between his fingers.
"Emily, you must have had a rough time," he said and patted the spot beside him.
I slid in, and the car eased into motion.
"Michael's back," I murmured, eyes fixed on the city slipping past the window.
"I know," Kingston said and blew out a smoke ring. "The one we failed to kill three years ago is now the captain. Life's full of surprises."
His tone was flat, betraying no emotion, but I knew he was far from calm beneath the surface.
Michael's return was a massive threat to his business.
"He's back, and he's coming straight for me," Kingston said. "And for you, too."
He turned, his gaze razor-sharp. "Emily, you're not keeping anything from me, are you?"
My heart clenched.
"Kingston, I've been with you for three years. You know everything about me," I said, meeting his gaze without flinching. "If it weren't for me back then, you'd be 6 feet under by now."
Kingston stared at me for a few seconds and then burst out laughing.
"You're right. You're with me. Of course I trust you," he said. "Michael won't be causing trouble for much longer."
The car drove up to the mansion on the west side of the city.
Kingston bought this place for me three years ago. It was opulent, but felt more like a gilded cage than a home.
As soon as I stepped inside, I saw that the living room was trashed.
The sofa was slashed open, the carpet was ripped up, and broken vase shards littered the floor.