Lies Wear Better at Night

Lawson’s gaze stayed fixed on Amelia’s phone.

The silence stretched, sharp and suffocating, daring her to breathe wrong.

“What,” he repeated slowly, “are you hiding now?”

Amelia’s fingers curled instinctively around the device. Her heart hammered so violently she was certain he could hear it. If he took the phone, if he saw the message, Maxwell would be dead. Not detained. Not threatened.

Dead.

“Nothing,” she said, forcing her voice steady. “Just Sophie checking on me.”

Lawson didn’t move. He didn’t blink.

“You’re a terrible liar,” he said quietly.

He crossed the room in three unhurried steps and held out his hand. “Give it to me.”

Her pulse spiked. This was it. One wrong move and everything collapsed.

“I deleted it already,” she said. “You said no unnecessary contact.”

That earned a faint smile—cold, sharp, pleased in a way that made her skin crawl.

“Good,” Lawson replied. “You’re learning.”

He turned away, loosening his tie. “Come here.”

Her body stiffened. “Why?”

“Because I said so.”

She stood slowly, her legs weak beneath her, and crossed the room. Lawson watched her closely, as if cataloguing every breath, every hesitation.

He reached out, brushing a strand of hair from her face. The touch was intimate, possessive, calculated.

“You look different tonight,” he murmured.

“I’m tired,” she said.

“No,” he replied. “You’re hiding something.”

Her chest tightened. “You already took everything else. What more do you want?”

His hand slid to her waist. “Proof.”

“Of what?”

“That you understand who controls this marriage.”

Fear curled deep in her stomach. “I already told you—I’m yours.”

Lawson’s eyes darkened. “Words are cheap.”

He pulled her closer, not rough, not gentle—just inevitable. She froze, every muscle screaming.

“Don’t,” she whispered.

He leaned down, his breath warm against her ear. “This is the price of disobedience.”

“I didn’t do anything,” she said shakily.

“You thought about doing something,” he replied. “And that’s enough.”

She clenched her jaw, fighting tears. If she broke now, if she pushed him, he’d punish Maxwell again. Worse.

Lawson’s phone buzzed.

He paused.

Amelia felt the shift instantly—the moment his attention fractured. Lawson pulled back, irritation flashing across his face as he checked the screen.

Anita.

He frowned slightly, then answered. “Yes?”

Amelia watched him carefully, her heart pounding.

“I told you not to interrupt,” Lawson snapped.

There was a pause.

His expression changed.

“Are you sure?” he asked.

Another pause. His jaw tightened.

“Fine,” he said sharply. “I’ll handle it.”

He ended the call and looked back at Amelia, his eyes unreadable.

“Go to bed,” he said suddenly.

She blinked. “What?”

“You heard me.”

She didn’t argue. She didn’t hesitate. She walked past him, climbed into bed, and turned her back.

Lawson stood there for a long moment, watching her.

Then he left the room.

The door closed.

Amelia exhaled a shaky breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.

She waited.

Ten minutes.

Twenty.

Her heart raced with every sound beyond the door.

Finally, when the penthouse fell quiet, she slipped out of bed and retrieved her phone from beneath the pillow.

The unknown number stared back at her.

You’re not as trapped as you think.

Her fingers trembled as she typed.

Who are you?

The reply came almost instantly.

Someone who wants Lawson Reynolds destroyed.

Her breath caught.

How did you get this number?

You should be asking how long I’ve been watching him.

A chill slid down her spine.

What proof do you have?

There was a pause this time. Long enough to make her chest ache with dread.

Then—

A ledger. Offshore accounts. Bribes. Blackmail. And a murder he paid to cover up.

Her stomach dropped.

If this is a lie—

Then Maxwell stays locked away.

Tears blurred her vision.

What do you want?

The dots appeared. Disappeared. Reappeared.

Your cooperation.

Her pulse thundered.

Doing what?

Smiling. Listening. And giving me access to something Lawson guards with his life.

She swallowed hard.

What?

His private server.

Her hands shook violently now.

That’s impossible.

Nothing is impossible when a man underestimates his wife.

The word wife burned.

Before she could reply, another message came through.

I’ll be in touch. Don’t get caught.

The screen went dark.

Amelia stared at her reflection in the black glass.

She was shaking—but beneath the fear, something else stirred.

Hope.

The next morning, Lawson acted as though nothing had happened.

He ate breakfast calmly, discussed stock movements with Donald, and left for work without so much as a glance in her direction.

That terrified her more than his anger.

Anita arrived mid-morning.

“Get dressed,” she said coolly. “You’re going out.”

Amelia frowned. “Lawson said—”

“Lawson changed his mind,” Anita replied. “You’re attending a charity luncheon.”

A trap, Amelia thought instantly.

But she nodded. “Fine.”

They arrived at an upscale hotel filled with wealthy women, cameras flashing, champagne flowing. Amelia plastered on a polite smile, her nerves screaming.

She scanned the room instinctively.

Maxwell wasn’t there.

Relief and fear tangled painfully in her chest.

As she moved through the crowd, Sophie suddenly appeared at her side.

“Amelia,” Sophie whispered urgently. “What’s going on? He’s cut you off completely.”

Amelia forced a smile for the cameras. “I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine,” Sophie hissed. “You look terrified.”

Amelia hesitated, then leaned closer. “I need your help.”

Sophie stiffened. “With what?”

“Everything,” Amelia whispered. “But you can’t tell anyone. Not even—”

“I’m in,” Sophie said immediately. “Just tell me.”

Amelia swallowed. “If something happens to me… watch my father.”

Sophie’s eyes widened. “What?”

“Promise me.”

Sophie grabbed her hand. “Amelia, you’re scaring me.”

“Promise,” Amelia insisted.

Sophie nodded slowly. “I promise.”

Across the room, Anita watched them.

Her gaze lingered.

Too long.

That evening, Lawson returned early.

Amelia felt it the moment he walked in—the shift in the air, the tension tightening like a noose.

“Come with me,” he said.

She followed him into his study.

He closed the door.

“You’ve been busy,” Lawson said calmly.

Her heart pounded. “I went where you sent me.”

“And yet,” he continued, turning to face her, “someone accessed my secondary firewall this afternoon.”

Ice flooded her veins.

“That’s impossible,” she said quickly. “I don’t even know how—”

“Don’t insult me,” Lawson snapped.

He stepped closer, his eyes blazing. “Someone used your biometric access.”

Her breath caught. “I didn’t—”

“Lie again,” he warned softly, “and I’ll end this conversation permanently.”

Tears burned her eyes. “I swear, I didn’t.”

Lawson studied her for a long moment.

Then he smiled.

And that was worse.

“Interesting,” he murmured. “Because I didn’t say the breach succeeded.”

Her knees nearly buckled.

“You wanted to see how far I’d go,” he continued. “Now I want to see how far you will.”

He reached into his desk drawer and pulled out a tablet, turning it toward her.

On the screen—

Maxwell.

Bruised.

Bleeding.

Alive.

“For every secret you keep from me,” Lawson said calmly, “he pays.”

Amelia screamed.

“Stop!” she sobbed. “Please—just tell me what you want!”

Lawson leaned closer, his voice a whisper.

“I want the truth,” he said. “And I want it now.”

Her phone buzzed in her pocket.

Once.

Lawson’s eyes flicked downward.

“Answer it,” he said softly. “Let’s see who’s brave enough to save you.”

With shaking hands, Amelia pulled out the phone.

A single message glowed on the screen.

He knows. Run. Now.

Amelia looked up at Lawson.

He was smiling.

And behind that smile, she saw it—

The certainty that this time…

She wouldn’t escape.