Chapter 2: The midnight deal

The steel door of the transport van slammed shut, throwing me into total darkness. Every bump in the road jostled my handcuffed wrists, sending sharp pains up my arms. But the physical pain was nothing compared to the fire burning in my chest.

Three weeks past…

For three long weeks, I sat in a damp, cold cell at the Blackwood Maximum Security Prison. I had gone from the city’s top prosecutor, a woman who wore designer clothes and commanded respect in every courtroom, to Inmate 402. My emerald evening gown was gone, replaced by a rough, oversized orange jumpsuit.

In the beginning, I cried until my throat was raw. I kept waiting for Julian to walk through the doors, to tell me it was all a terrible misunderstanding, to save me. But he never came. Instead, the corrupt guards he paid off made sure to remind me of my new reality every single day.

“Your husband sends his regards,” Guard Dixon had sneered at me just hours ago, spitting on my cell floor. “He hopes you don't survive the week.”

That was the moment the crying stopped.

That was the moment the naive, trusting wife died, and the sharp, analytical prosecutor woke back up. Sitting on my thin mattress in the dark, I had finally put the pieces together. Julian’s shipping empire hadn't just been failing. It was the primary transport hub for the very crime cartel I had spent the last year locking up. Julian owed them millions.

He didn't just frame me to save himself; he traded my life and my freedom to wipe his own slate clean. He used my immaculate reputation as a shield.

The van came to a sudden, screeching halt. The heavy locks turned, and the door swung open. A guard roughly grabbed my arm and pulled me out into the blinding rain.

"Move it, 402," he barked, shoving me forward.

I expected to be led back to the main cell block, but we walked down a completely different, dimly lit corridor. We stopped in front of a private, soundproof visitation room deep in the administrative wing.

The guard unlocked the door, pushed me inside, and locked it behind me.

I blinked against the harsh fluorescent lights. This room was different. The heavy glass partition that usually separated inmates from visitors was gone. There was only a sleek, polished wooden table and two chairs.

Sitting in one of those chairs was a man who looked like he belonged in a luxury penthouse, not a concrete cage.

Silas Vance.

He was thirty-two, incredibly handsome in a sharp, intimidating way, and possessed a level of wealth that made him practically untouchable. He wore a flawless, bespoke three-piece suit without a single wrinkle. His dark hair was perfectly styled, and his piercing grey eyes watched me like a predator analyzing its prey. Silas Vance was the CEO of Vance Global, a massive tech and logistics conglomerate—and my husband’s fiercest, most ruthless business rival and cousin.

"You look terrible, Counselor," Silas said. His voice was a deep, smooth baritone that echoed off the cold walls.

I swallowed the lump of pride in my throat. My hair was tangled, my face was pale, and my hands were bruised from the cuffs. But I refused to let him see me break. I walked over to the table, pulled out the metal chair, and sat down across from him. I threw my shoulders back and kept my posture perfectly straight.

"If you came all the way to this prison just to laugh at me, Mr. Vance, you are wasting your time," I said, my voice steady and cold. "My husband already took everything I had. There is nothing left for you to steal."

A small, amused smile touched Silas’s lips, but his eyes remained sharp and calculating. "I didn't come here to laugh at you, Vivian. I am a businessman. I only go where there is profit to be made. And right now, you are the most valuable asset in this city."

I let out a bitter, breathless laugh. "An asset? I am a convicted felon serving a twenty-year sentence for corruption. My career is over. My reputation is destroyed."

"Your reputation was destroyed by a lie," Silas corrected, leaning forward. He placed his elbows on the table and locked his gaze onto mine. "I know Julian framed you. I know he used his shipping docks to move the cartel’s contraband, and I know he used your signed ledger entries to cover his tracks. He stole thirty million dollars, pinned it on you, and now he is using his freedom to aggressively expand his business."

Hearing the truth out loud made my blood boil. "If you know he's guilty, take the evidence to the police! Expose him!"

"The police won't touch him. He has bought half the city council, and with you behind bars, his image as the grieving, betrayed husband is working perfectly," Silas said coldly. "But more importantly, Julian’s expansion is beginning to bleed into my territory. He is trying to take over the north shipping docks. I cannot allow that."

I narrowed my eyes, trying to read his thoughts. "What does that have to do with me?"

Silas reached into his expensive leather briefcase. He pulled out a thick, legal document and a sleek, encrypted black smartphone. He slid them both across the table, stopping them right in front of my handcuffed hands.

"I am offering you a transaction," Silas said softly. "Inside that folder is a new identity, completely backdated and verified by my security teams. From this moment on, Vivian Vance is dead. You will become Baroness Veronica Vance, an eccentric, ultra-wealthy foreign tech investor from Europe. I have already wired one hundred million dollars of my own capital into an offshore account under that name."

My breath caught in my throat. I stared at the folder, then up at him. "You’re going to break me out of a maximum-security prison?"

"My people are already controlling the security feeds. A getaway boat is waiting at the north docks right now," Silas replied, his face completely serious. "You will leave this prison tonight. You will spend the next few days altering your appearance, learning your new background, and preparing your entry into high society."

It sounded like a dream. It sounded like the miracle I had been praying for. But I was a prosecutor; I knew that every deal had a price.

"Nothing in this world is free, Mr. Vance," I said, my voice dropping to a whisper. "What is the catch? What do you want from me?"

Silas’s grey eyes turned incredibly dark. The air in the room suddenly felt heavy.

"I want you to do what you do best. Investigate, manipulate, and destroy," Silas said, each word hitting like a hammer. "You will use my hundred million dollars to enter Julian's social circles. You will play the role of the wealthy investor he desperately needs to save his sinking company. You will make him fall in love with you. And while he is busy trying to romance you, you will secretly drain his bank accounts, destroy his contracts, and bankrupt every single person who helped him put you in this room."

"And how long do I have to do this?" I asked.

"One hundred days," Silas said. He reached out and tapped the screen of the black smartphone.

The screen instantly flashed to life. A bright, glowing red digital countdown clock appeared, the numbers ticking backward with a relentless, rhythmic pulse:

99:23:59:59

"You have exactly one hundred days to bring Julian to his knees," Silas continued, his voice void of any emotion. "If, on Day 101, Julian Vance still holds a single dime, or if you fail to expose his crimes to the world, the deal is broken. The same assets I am using to pull you out of this prison tonight will turn into an execution order. My people will find you, and they will terminate you. There will be no trial, Vivian. No second chances. You either destroy him, or you die."

I stared at the glowing red numbers on the phone. The seconds were already slipping away.

58... 57... 56...

It was complete madness. It was a high-stakes gamble with my life as the bet. If I made one wrong move, if Julian recognized me, or if I ran out of time, I would end up dead.

But then I pictured Julian’s smug, victorious smile as the guards dragged me away. I remembered the venom in his voice when he whispered, Enjoy the cage. If I stayed here, Julian would win. He would live a life of luxury built on my ruin, and I would eventually be killed by a corrupt guard in a dark corner of the yard.

Staying meant guaranteed death. Accepting meant a chance to fight. It was a perfectly logical choice.

"Do we have a deal, Baroness?" Silas asked, holding out a sleek silver pen.

I couldn't use the pen with my hands cuffed. Instead, I leaned forward, pressed my lip against my sharp teeth until I tasted the metallic tang of blood, and pressed my bloody right thumb firmly onto the signature line of the contract.

"We have a deal," I whispered.

Silas smiled, a dark, dangerous expression that sent a chill down my spine. He stood up, adjusting the cuffs of his suit jacket.

"Excellent. Your escape boat leaves the north docks in exactly nine minutes," Silas said, turning toward the door. "Run, Baroness. Your time has already begun."