CHAPTER 5

ANNA POV

“Stop looking at me,” I say, staring straight through the rain-streaked windshield.

Peter doesn’t reply. He spins the SUV’s steering wheel with one hand, pulling off the curb outside the hotel and onto the highway. The morning light is gray, washing over his sharp jawline and the heavy silence between us. My chest hurts, my lips swollen and tender, my skin still burning from the memory of his hands in the dark.

“I said stop,” I repeat, my voice cutting through the hum of the engine.

“I’m looking at the road, Anna,” Peter says flatly, his tone cold, clinical, and completely devoid of the violence from three hours ago. “Adjust your collar. Your neck is bruised.”

My fingers snap up to my shirt, pulling the fabric tight against my throat as shame claws at my chest. I don’t regret making him touch me, but the sheer coldness in his voice makes my breath hitch.

“You can drop me off at the boathouse,” I say, looking away. “I’m not going back into the main house while Jack is there.”

“We’re both going to the boathouse,” Peter states, slowing the car as we turn down the long gravel driveway toward the lake edge. “We need to see what my father is holding in his private safe before the board meeting.”

He kills the engine. I throw my door open without waiting for him, stepping into the damp morning air, my heels sinking into the mud.

Peter catches up in three long strides, pushing open the heavy wooden door of the secluded boathouse. The interior is shadowed, smelling of old pine and deep water. In the back corner sits Richard’s secondary steel safe, hidden behind a false panel.

“You have the keycard?” Peter asks, turning his back to me as he crouches before the electronic keypad.

“I took it from Jack’s bag while he was asleep in the hospital room,” I say, stepping close and handing him the thin black strip.

My wrist brushes his shoulder. Peter freezes for a microsecond, his posture stiffening into iron, before he slides the card into the lock without looking at me.

The heavy lock clicks open with a mechanical beep.

Peter reaches inside, pulling out a thick binder sealed with a red wax stamp. He snaps the tie and spreads the pages across the wooden workbench under the overhead light.

“What is that?” I ask, leaning over his arm.

“It’s not corporate records,” Peter says, his cold eyes scanning the dense legal text line by line. “It’s the original marriage contract between Richard Voss and Mary.”

“Why would my father keep his marriage certificate in a vault?”

“Because it isn’t a marriage,” Peter says, his voice dropping into a lethal register. “Read clause four.”

I drop my eyes to the page, my pulse accelerating as I follow his finger down the heavy paper.

‘This union constitutes a ten-year strategic partnership,’ the document reads. ‘A no-fault separation payout of forty million dollars is contingent upon maintaining a flawless public image until the corporate IPO is finalized. Any documented marital infidelity or public scandal before the public listing voids all asset transfers and forfeits voting shares for both parties.’

I gasp, the air freezing in my lungs.

“It’s fake,” I whisper, looking up at Peter’s impassive face. “Their entire marriage is a business deal.”

“It’s worse than that,” Peter says, turning the page. “If Mary is sleeping with Jack, she’s in direct breach of contract. But if Richard is sleeping with Lydia, he’s breaching it too. If either affair gets out to the board before the IPO closes, the stock collapses, the bank pulls the loan, and the entire family estate is liquidated.”

“They’re risking everything,” I say, my voice rising as the reality sets in. “My inheritance, your shares, the entire company—all for their disgusting little secrets.”

“They think they’re untouchable,” Peter says, closing the binder with a heavy thud. “They think we’re too broken by their games to fight back.”

“So what do we do?” I ask, my jaw setting tight as a sudden, sharp clarity replaces the ache in my chest.

Peter turns his body to face me fully, his grey eyes locked onto mine, completely frozen and calculated.

“We pretend,” Peter says. “We play the dutiful, united step-siblings. We smile at the dinner table, we support the family image in public, and in private, we collect every piece of evidence on Mary, Jack, and Lydia until we hold absolute leverage over all three of them.”

“A revenge pact,” I say, holding his gaze.

“An execution,” Peter corrects softly. “We take back control of Voss Holdings, strip them of their payouts, and burn their affairs to the ground.”

He extends his right hand toward me.

I don't hesitate. I reach out and wrap my fingers around his.

The second our palms touch, a violent, electric heat surges straight up my arm, making my breath catch in my throat. My eyes widen as a sharp shockline of awareness pulls my lower belly tight.

Peter flinches, pulling his hand back instantly as if he’s been burned, stepping back two full paces. His expression doesn't break, but his fingers curl tightly into a fist at his side.

“We keep it professional,” Peter says flatly, his voice hard as stone. “No repeats of last night.”

“Agreed,” I say, swallowing hard against the sudden dryness in my throat.

Before either of us can say another word, the high-pitched chime of my phone breaks the silence. I pull it out of my coat pocket and look at the screen.

“It’s a group broadcast from Mary,” I say, reading the preview text aloud.

‘Emergency family gathering in the main drawing room immediately. Important company announcement.’

PETER POV

“Thank you all for coming down so quickly,” Mary says, standing beside my father near the fireplace in the main house.

She wears a powder-blue suit, her smile radiant, her hand tucked comfortably into Richard’s arm. Richard stands tall, his posture commanding, looking every bit the proud patriarch. Sitting on the leather sofa opposite them are Jack Morrison and Lydia Chen.

Jack won't look Anna in the eye. Lydia avoids my gaze entirely, her hands folded tightly over her designer handbag.

Anna stands half a step behind me, her posture rigid, her breathing steady. I can feel the heat radiating off her body, but I keep my gaze locked strictly forward.

“As you all know, the IPO is approaching rapidly,” Richard begins, his deep voice filling the room with effortless authority. “To ensure total stability across our PR and architectural divisions, Mary and I have made a strategic executive decision.”

Mary steps forward, her eyes sparkling with false warmth as she looks between Anna and me.

“We’re so happy to announce that Jack and Lydia have agreed to join Voss Holdings full-time,” Mary says smoothly, her voice dripping with venomous sweetness. “Jack will be taking over as head of internal design, and Lydia will be managing our high-net-worth client relations. They’ll be working closely with the family inside this house from now on.”

Jack clears his throat, offering a nervous, practiced smile. “I’m really looking forward to bringing us all closer together.”

Lydia nods softly, her voice barely a whisper. “It’s a wonderful opportunity.”

Beside me, I hear Anna’s breath catch sharply, her fingers digging deep into the side of her dress.

I don't move a muscle. I don't raise my voice. I simply slowly turn my head, my eyes meeting Anna’s sideways glance.

Underneath the quiet room, the message is clear. They brought our betrayers directly into our home to keep us trapped, watched, and silent.

Anna’s jaw tightens, a cold, dangerous light flaring in her eyes as she gives me the faintest, almost imperceptible nod.

The war has officially begun.