Its blades were already spinning, slicing through the cold night air. Several of Duke’s men were stationed nearby, their hands resting over their weapons, their gazes sharp as they scanned the perimeter.
Duke wasted no time guiding me toward the open door. "Get in."
I hesitated.
"Britney." His voice was firm. "Now."
I swallowed hard before stepping inside, settling onto the leather seat beside my father. Duke climbed in after me, nodding toward the pilot. Within seconds, the helicopter lifted off, the ground below shrinking as we soared into the sky.
Through the window, I could see the mob gathered outside the church, their voices drowned beneath the roar of the blades. Some were crying. Some were furious. But all of them had one thing in common.
They wanted Duke Trayson to pay for something.
And I needed to find out what.
Days passed, and my new life as Mrs. Trayson felt like a carefully rehearsed lie.
Duke was gone most of the time, locked in meetings or vanishing for hours without a word. When we did cross paths, his gaze always lingered on me a second too long, as if he was waiting for something.
But what?
I forced myself to play the role of the perfect wife. The perfect mother.
Every night, I sat beside Lukas’ bed, reading bedtime stories in the same soft tone Britney used. Every morning, I smiled over breakfast, watching the little boy eat while Duke watched me.
But beneath my mask, I was investigating.
I reached out to Fay, my personal assistant—the only person who will find out the truth.
"Find out everything you can about Duke," I whispered into my phone one evening, locked inside the bathroom. "I don’t care how dangerous it is. Just do it."
Fay hesitated. "Mia, are you sure?"
"I need answers." My grip tightened around the phone.
If I was going to be trapped in this marriage, I needed to know who I was married to.
But before I could get those answers, everything changed.
One reckless, heated night shattered the fragile walls I had built around myself.
Duke came home late, his tie loosened, his sleeves rolled up. His sharp blue gaze locked onto mine as he entered our dimly lit bedroom.
Something about him felt different that night.
More intense. More dangerous.
I should have left.
I should have walked away.
But I didn’t.
His fingers brushed against my skin, sending a shiver down my spine. His hands found my waist, pulling me against him, his breath warm against my ear.