Chapter 3 - Man in Armani

-LIANA-

The clang of metal buckets jolted me awake, echoing like gunshots in the hollow belly of the prison.

Older inmates barked curses, younger ones whimpered. Somewhere, fists collided with flesh. The symphony of hell.

I lay still, staring at cracks in the ceiling, my body one large bruise. Hunger gnawed at me, my throat dry. Slowly, I pushed myself upright, clutching the frame of the bunk for support.

By the time the guards barked “Cafeteria!” I was already standing. Already learning the rhythm: don’t be last in line, don’t look weak, don’t look too eager.

The stench hit first,boiled porridge, bleach, sweat. A dented tray slapped into my hands, heavy with gray slop and bread that could break teeth. I kept my gaze down, searching for an empty corner. Quiet survival.

I had to remind myself I wasn't just eating for myself, but the life inside me.

When it was over, I returned to my cell, steps careful, tray rattling with the echo of routine. I set it aside, leaned against the cold wall, and allowed myself the smallest breath of relief.

But then I felt it,someone watching me.

He was there.

Leaning against the far wall like he belonged here, though everything about him screamed he didn’t. Calm. Composed. Dangerous.

Armani. The suit was unmistakable,charcoal grey, cut sharp to his frame, the kind of tailoring that cost more than a year of rent. The prison’s filth couldn’t cling to him; it recoiled. His tie was loosened, his shoes polished black. A man carved from control.

And those eyes. Grey, storming, unreadable.

“You’ve got spirit,” he said, his voice smooth, deliberate, the kind that made people listen. “But surviving here isn’t about strength. It’s about knowing when to move… and when to wait.”

I wrapped my hands around my belly, suspicion knotting my gut. “And you are?”

He didn’t answer. Just watched me, like he was calculating every fracture in my soul, eyes glancing at my stomach.. Then, with a faint tilt of his head toward the corridor, he pushed off the wall and disappeared into the shadows.

Memory sliced through the haze. Whispered names at Cassian’s board meetings, men who spoke of him in sharp tones and lowered voices. Cassian’s rival,the one he never liked to mention. And then I remembered those eyes. Tristan Halenti.

My chest tightened. If Cassian was fire; reckless, burning, consuming; Tristan was ice. Controlled. Dangerous in silence.

Cassian’s biggest enemy.

⸻

Later, back in my cell, As I rested on the sorry-excuse-of a mattress, I saw it: a folded scrap of thick paper slid under the door.

I froze, staring around making sure there were no spying eyes, then picked it up with trembling hands.

One line.

Observe. Wait. Opportunity comes.

No signature. Just a single initial.

T.

⸻

That night, I made my choice.

The divorce papers Scarlett had shoved into my hands still sat on the bunk, waiting like a curse. I stared at them, my chest hollow.

He was going to get everything I owned, leaving nothing for me all because I was the one who ‘broke’ the marriage.

Cassian’s words echoed in my skull: You’ve lost the only thing that ever gave you a name.

My jaw tightened.

Fine. If my name meant so little to him, I’d sign it away. Whether I signed it or not, it was already a lost cause in his eyes.

The pen scratched across the paper, each letter of my signature carved with venom. Not defeat,never defeat. A promise. My hand trembled, signs I was malnourished.

I folded the papers neatly and left them on the pillow like a corpse, waiting for whoever wanted them.

I didn’t need them anymore.

⸻

The next night, chaos bloomed.

Shouts erupted down the hall, alarms blaring, lights flickering. Guards ran past, drawn to a fight somewhere else.

I jolted off the bed. And then,my door clicked open.

He was there again.

Tristan.

Standing in the threshold like he owned the darkness. Armani suit immaculate despite the filth, cufflinks gleaming when the emergency lights strobed red. His presence swallowed the cell whole.

“Get up, Liana,” he said, extending a hand. Not a request. A command.

I didn’t move. “Why are you helping me?” My voice rasped, raw with suspicion.

For all I know I could be a trap to ruin my already damaged reputation even more.

A shadow of a smile crossed his lips, almost unreadable. “Let’s just say… I have my reasons. Cassian Hale doesn’t like to lose, but I don’t either. And right now, helping you,keeping you alive,serves both our interests.”

“And besides, you were framed.”

My brow furrowed, disgust pooling around me. “So you’re using me?”

“Not just using,” he corrected, voice low, deliberate. “You’re part of a game that’s bigger than either of us. And if you survive, you get more than freedom, you get a chance to rewrite the rules.”

I hesitated, every instinct screaming caution.

But I couldn't just think of myself alone. I had a life to protect and being in prison wasn’t the life I envisioned for he/her.

I slid my hand into his. His grip was firm. Solid. Unshakable.

And for the first time since Cassian shattered me, broke me and disgraced me in front of the whole world, I felt something spark again.

Not hope. Not yet.

Opportunity.

⸻

We slipped into the chaos, shadows wrapping us like armor.

The city air hit me when we burst into the alley, sharp and real, almost too bright after the gray suffocation of the prison. I stumbled, bruised and raw, but alive.

And then my hands went instinctively to my stomach, gentle, protective.

“Don’t worry, my child,” I whispered, teeth gritted, determination blazing. “I’ll make sure you grow up to be nothing like your father. Strong. Untouchable. And free.”

The night wrapped us in silence. For the first time in months, I could feel the fire return, not for a man, not for revenge… but for my child. And for me.

As we crouched in the shadows, hidden from the chaos of the city, his eyes flicked toward the skyline. Cold, calculating.

“Why are you really doing this?” I pressed, daring to pry deeper.

A shadow of a smirk touched his lips. “Cassian Hale thinks he’s untouchable. He doesn’t know what it means to cross the wrong people, or what it costs to betray someone who knows your secrets.”

My stomach knotted. “Secrets?”

“Let’s just say… There are debts unpaid, alliances broken. He’s made enemies that run deeper than his empire, and I’m… one of them.” His gaze softened for the briefest second as it flicked to my stomach. “Helping you survive… It's personal. And it’s a chance to see him falter where he thought he was invincible.”

I clutched my stomach tighter, heart racing. This wasn’t just about me or even Cassian’s betrayal. This was bigger. More dangerous.

And yet… I realized something vital. Tristan wasn’t just a stranger helping me out of the goodness of his heart. He had a score to settle,a vendetta woven into every calculated move he made.

And I was the key.

As long as it meant taking down Cassian and Scarlett… I’d play any part. Even the one I hated most.