CHAPTER 5

"What the hell were you thinking?"

Daniel’s voice cut through the silence of the Rivera Manhattan Residence. He didn't look like a bodyguard; he looked like a judge. He sat in the foyer, his dark skin a sharp contrast against the cream leather of the armchair. As soon as the elevator doors hissed shut, he stood, pocketing a burner phone.

"The lawyers are gutting the inheritance clause as we speak," he said, tracking my path across the marble floor.

"Good." I dropped my keys on the console.

This penthouse was the only place in the city where the air didn't taste like gunpowder. But today, the silence felt heavy. I was married. Three hours ago, I’d signed my life away to a Cruz, and the world hadn't stopped spinning. It felt like everything had shifted, yet I was still the same man. Convenience. That’s what they called it. I knew Lanka’s file—the brawls, the drug rumors, the recklessness. He was a disaster waiting to happen.

"I’d watch your shadow," Daniel said, following me into the kitchen.

The sun glinted off his shaved head. He looked like he was ready for a funeral. "What else?"

"His last business partner in Marseille. Found him face-down in the harbor. Paralyzed from a 'bad batch' Lanka handed him during a meeting."

"Is there proof?"

"Interpol has a file a mile long, but the witnesses always go missing." Daniel shoved a police report toward me. "Check the toxicology. It was a cocktail designed to keep him awake while he drowned."

"Concerning."

"Concerning? You married a black widow in a white suit, Santiago." Daniel’s baritone rumbled. He actually laughed. It was a dry, ugly sound. "You could still bury this. An annulment takes a phone call."

"And lose the shipping routes? No. Eduardo Cruz is dying. If I don't grab his territory now, the Russians will move in. I need to know why the old man is so desperate to tie his grandson to me."

"I'll dig," Daniel said, turning for the door.

I tried to work. I sat in the office for two hours, approving protection budgets and shipment manifests, but my phone wouldn't stop screaming. Four pings in ten seconds.

The Rivera family chat was a bloodbath. Valentina had posted the photo. Me and Lanka on the courthouse steps. The angle made it look like we were holding hands. I wanted to put my fist through the screen.

Rafael: Care to explain, Santiago?

Valentina: Is there an explanation? Someone tied the knot!

Mateo: Looks like a deepfake. Has to be AI.

Lucas: No, look at the shadow. It’s real. Valentina, where did you get this?

Valentina: It’s all over the dark web. And the gossip blogs.

She dropped a link. SANTIAGO RIVERA OFF THE MARKET. AND THE DEVIL OF CORAL GABLES GOT HIM. The comments were worse.

"He'll be dead in a week. No one survives Lanka Cruz."

Me: I can see your messages.

Diego: So it's true?

Me: Yes.

"You called the press, didn't you?"

I didn't wait for Lanka to answer. He was sprawled on the velvet sofa, doom-scrolling through his phone. He looked exhausted, his white suit wrinkled, his face bathed in the golden light of the setting sun.

"I didn't leak it," Lanka said. His voice was steady, but I could see his fingers twitching. "My grandfather did."

"Why?"

"To make sure you can't walk away. He wants you tied to the Cruz name."

I stepped closer, looming over him. "I don't do what I'm told, Lanka. Not by him. Not by you."

"People might realize," he whispered. "That I'm not... who they think."

"People are idiots. You have the face. You have the name. That’s all that matters in this city."

He looked up at me. His eyes were wide, a strange mix of defiance and terror. "What if the real one comes back?"

"I'll handle it. Now get your things. Marco hauled your bags into the hall. You’re staying here."

"I don't want to live in this tomb."

"I don't give a damn what you want." I leaned down, my face inches from his. My gaze dropped to his mouth. For a second, the room felt too small. "You publicized this circus. Now you’re going to play the part."

He didn't flinch. "Don't treat me like a child."

"Then stop acting like one."

The brunch on Saturday was a tactical disaster.

I’d hosted the family before, but never with a Cruz at the head of the table. My siblings were all there—Rafael and his wife Sofia, Valentina and Gabriel, Alejandro, Diego, and Lucas. Mateo had sent his regards from Cambridge. They were all too quiet. Too polite.

Lynn, Alejandro’s girlfriend, was the one who pulled the pin on the grenade.

"I think it's a problem," she said, her voice shaking. We were sitting at the rustic outdoor table, the Miami wind whipping around us.

"Something wrong, Lynn?" I asked.

"Tell them," Alejandro barked. He was staring at Lanka like he wanted to execute him on the spot.

"It's nothing," Lanka muttered. He looked like he wanted to bolt.

"No," Lynn said, looking at me. "Nolan, your husband is a monster. Lanka Cruz once called the authorities on me and had my daughter taken away because I couldn't pay for a suit he claimed I ruined."

The table went silent.

"He told the social workers I was an addict," Lynn continued, tears hitting her plate. "He sent old photos from before I was clean. My ex used it to get custody. I’ve been in court for a year because of his 'little prank.'"

Everyone looked at Lanka. Shame. Disgust. Pure, unadulterated hate.

"Is this true?" I asked. My voice was low. Dangerous.

Lanka looked down. He didn't deny it. He couldn't. He mumbled an apology that felt like a slap in the face.

"I don't think he belongs in this family," Alejandro said. "You can't marry a man like that. He’ll disgrace us."

"Who I marry is my business, Alejandro," I said. "He's my husband. Deal with it."

"Is the Cruz territory worth your soul?"

"Enough!" My voice cracked like a whip. "I know who I married. I know the risks. I don't do anything without understanding the cost." I turned to Lynn, my expression softening. "I’ll get your daughter back. You have my word. As for Lanka..."

I looked at him. He was staring at me with a look of pure shock. He saw it then—the way I moved the board. The way I owned the room. He realized I wasn't just a businessman. I was the man who had just bought his life.

"We're done here," I said.