36

Chapter 36

Martin's Pov

Sitting at the open space drinking whiskey in a restaurant, I didn't know when it got so late.

I was busy thinking about the deal with Brittany, the huge amount of money I took which meant commitment.

If I fail in this mission that means I'm in so much trouble and someone like Brittany doesn't like too much talk, she prefers actions. If I quit, Brittany will kill me.

My head replayed the plan I had set up, how to make sure Adrian is not a threat, how to make the frame-up clean, how to keep my hands invisible.

It was dangerous. Planting drugs on someone on parole,someone that lives in a mansion where is heavily guarded, then fabricating evidence, tampering with records—if we were caught, the fallout would be devastating. Not just for Adrian. For me. Conspiracy charges. Parole violations. My whole operation, exposed.

But the alternative was worse.

Adrian was now living in a billionaire’s house. Comfortable, protected, with resources and people around her who could ask questions. Questions that might lead back to me and everything I’d done. I couldn’t risk that. I wouldn’t.

I’d done this before. I’d framed Adrian once and walked away. This time would be cleaner, faster, permanent. One conviction, no second chances, no billionaire keeping her on, no parole board giving her another shot. She’d vanish back into the system. I’d be safe.

The idea consumed me. The plan had become the only thing that mattered. I’d even let the rest of my life slide. Including Amelia.

As I walked into the bedroom, I saw her, Amelia.

She was sitting on the couch , wearing a lace nightie that showed off her body. A bottle of wine that is close to her on the table is half-empty which means she'd been drinking and waiting for me to come back.

“You’re finally home,” she said, her words unclear, blinking up at me. “I thought you were with another woman and wanted to spend the night with her.”

“Don’t be ridiculous Amelia,” I said, removing my tie, “I’ve been working.”

She gave out an icy chuckle. Then I moved to the drawer to change. She followed, stumbling a little, robe sliding like a shadow.

“Martin.” Her hand found my arm and she looked at me with sudden urgency. “Touch me. Please. Make me feel like a woman again.”

Her need made my lip curl. When had she become so needy? She had stopped being useful to me and enjoyed drinking and sex more than any other thing.

“I’m not in the mood tonight,” I said flatly.

“You’re never in the mood anymore why?” she asked. “Not for me. What happened to us?”

“We were useful to each other,” I said. “That’s not the same as love.”

Her face hurt for a moment—maybe it would have mattered once—but I’d long since shelved guilt. Emotions were messy and dangerous.

“So I’m not useful to you anymore?” she asked, voice low.

I looked at her and couldn't find the woman who’d helped me destroy her cousin, who’d lied to police and pretended to be loyal while Adrian suffered. She’d married me knowing what I was. Maybe she still had value. But all she values right now is drinking, smoking and making out.

“That depends,” I said. “How badly do you want to be useful?”

Hope sharpened her features. “What do you need me to do Martin?”

I sat on the bed and asked her to come closer and sit. “I need information. About Darcy Rodrigo.”

“Adrian’s boss?” Her confusion turned into interest. “What about him?”

“I need leverage. Something that can damage him—photos, receipts, witnesses. Proof of affairs or bad behavior that would hit the press and his business. If Darcy is distracted and scrambling, he can’t protect Adrian when her charge appears.”

She understood then, the gears turning behind that practiced smile. “You want dirt.”

“Not a rumor. Evidence.” I paced a little, the plan snapping into place. “Find women who’ve been with him, hotel or club staff who’ve seen him with escorts, receipts, anything concrete. I need patterns, the hotels he uses, clubs he frequents, names of people who’d testify.”

“How long will it take?” she asked, already calculating.

“Days. Maybe a week,” she said. “I still have contacts—promoters, society wives, club owners. They’ll talk for the right price.”

“Good.” I felt a thin satisfaction. “This is important. Don’t screw it up.”

She reached up and touched my face, needy again but with purpose. “I won’t.”

We kissed. I laid her gently on the bed, licked her up, tasted her cunt, gave her back shots she loved, grinding her hard, gave her the pleasure she wanted for the night hoping she would give me the information I wanted. It was love making disguised as business. We both have roles to play.

Afterwards, she slept beside me and I stared at the ceiling, thinking about everything and how it's playing out as in a chessboard, the players and pieces.

Brittany is planning Adrian's fall. Amelia digging for dirt. Me prepping the drugs, then watching and waiting for the perfect moment.

Adrian didn’t stand a chance if everything worked. If we act without mistakes.

The morning sunlight felt too bright for the mess I’d made. Amelia was still half-asleep when my phone rang. Unknown number. I recognized the cadence—Brittany’s burner.

I stepped into the bathroom and answered. “Yes?”

“Martin.” Her voice was sharp. “We have a problem.”

My stomach dropped. “What kind of problem?”

“Your surveillance. Stop it. Today. Don’t go near the Rodrigo house.”

“What happened?” The panic came quicker than I liked.

“Security’s been increased. My contact, Luis said the groundskeeper saw footage of a car parked near the property. They’re checking plates. Darcy is personally overseeing it.”

Color left my face. “How? I was careful.”

“Not careful enough,” Brittany said. “There are perimeter cameras you didn’t account for. They can see the car. They might have the plate.”

If they had the plate, they could trace it. If they traced it, they could dig into why my car was near the mansion. My name, my connections—everything could surface. They could link me to Adrian, to prior setups.

“Did they see my face?” I asked.

“Too far for facial details,” Brittany said. “But the car is visible. If they run the plate…”

She left the sentence open and it filled the bathroom like cold water. We both knew what came next.

“What do I do?” I asked.

“Do nothing,” Brittany snapped. “Stay away. Don’t make calls someone can trace. Let it blow over. If nothing else happens, they’ll move on. We wait a few weeks, then we resume.”

“What about the frame?” I demanded. “The drugs?”

“It’s still on,” she said. “But we wait. You can’t be the weak link. If this points back to you, our deal ends. I won’t be tied to anyone under investigation.”

“I understand,” I lied, because I had no better option. I had to pull back.

I washed my face, tried to steady my breath. Brittany was right. The smart move was to disappear, to stop the surveillance and let the heat die down. It would be difficult without my eyes on Adrian. I wouldn't know when she moved or who she saw but getting caught was worse.

When I returned to the bedroom, Amelia was scrolling her phone. “Who was that?” she asked, voice casual.

“Business,” I said. Short, controlled. “Nothing to be worried about. I took care of it already.”

I made a lie to avoid questions, but the truth was worse. Darcy had noticed. Security had tightened. My car might be identified. My mistake could unravel everything I’d spent years building.

I thought of the patience I’d already used—waiting three years for this moment. Waiting a few more weeks wouldn’t kill me. I could wait. I’d framed Adrian once; I could do it again.

But the stakes felt higher now. Darcy had resources I couldn’t match. If he dug, if he started asking questions, things could get messy fast.

Still, there was a path. Brittany would finish her work when the time was right. Amelia would find something on Darcy that pulled him into his own mess. I would sit unseen until the coast was clear, then move.

My life has always been built on careful moves. A single sloppy step could topple it. I wouldn’t let that happen. Not now.

Outside, the city moved on. Somewhere in that mansion, Adrian thinks she's living her life carefully and also thinks she's protected by a man who trusts her with his daughter. Anyway, she was a problem I had to erase whether protected or not.

I dressed, kissed Amelia on the forehead in a way that felt odd, and left the house with a different kind of plan: patience. Wait. Watch from farther away. Let others do the risky work. When the security relaxed and Darcy had his own headwinds, that’s when we’d strike.

And this time, there would be no mistake. This time, Adrian wouldn’t survive it.