Milan's Threat.

Sera's POV

The air in the room instantly turned to ice.

Gerald’s voice still echoed from the speaker of Adrian’s phone, but my brain had completely gone blank.

My gaze snapped down to the side pocket of my gown.

Milan had slipped something into my pocket.

Adrian’s dark eyes narrowed into lethal slits. The lingering heat between us vanished, replaced by the dangerous, calculating intensity of his suspicious gaze. He lowered the phone from his ear and took a step even closer towards me.

“Take it out, Victoria,” he ordered, his voice dropping into a low, terrifying growl.

Panic surged through my entire body. If Milan knew I wasn't Victoria, whatever was written on that paper would destroy me. It would expose the lie, end the fake marriage, and likely send me straight to prison. I couldn't let Adrian see it.

“I... I don't know what you're talking about,” I stammered.

“Don't lie to me,” Adrian snapped, extending his hand. “Give me the paper.”

My heart hammered against my ribs like a trapped bird. I needed a distraction,

something—anything—to keep his hands off that note.

Immediately, a weird feeling of déjà vu washed over me. We've been in the same spot before, with this same charged tension, fighting over a note.

Before he could reach into my pocket himself, I shoved my hand inside, grabbed the paper, and tightly crumpled it into a tiny ball inside my fist.

“He was harassing me, Adrian!” I burst out, forcing tears into my eyes and making my voice crack. “He slipped his phone number into my dress! He told me to call him when you were busy with your board. It was disgusting, and I was going to throw it away!”

Adrian froze, his jaw clenching so hard a muscle twitched in his cheek. “He gave you his personal number?”

“Yes!” I cried, backing away towards what I could tell was the bathroom. “I lost his number once after we drifted apart but he wants me to have it again. I don't want his number, Adrian. I don't want anything to do with him.”

I yanked the bathroom door open, rushed to the toilet and dropped the crumpled paper straight into it, then I pressed the flush button down so hard.

The toilet flushed, taking the paper down with it before Adrian could even step into the bathroom.

He stopped at the doorway, watching the water clear. His eyes burned with an intense, dark fury.

But his fury had shifted from me. He looked ready to murder Milan Rojer with his bare hands.

“If that bastard ever steps foot in my house again,” Adrian said, his voice deadly quiet, “I will destroy everything his family owns.”

He turned on his heel and walked back into the bedroom to talk to Gerald, leaving me shaking where I stood. I let out a long, shuddering breath, locking the bathroom door behind me.

My hands trembled violently as I reached into my other pocket.

When Gerald had mentioned the paper over the phone, I panicked. But what Adrian hadn't seen was that I discreetly slid my hand into my pocket seconds before he stepped closer. I felt two things in there: a card, and the note Milan had slipped into my pocket. I had flushed the note.

I pulled out the actual card Milan gave me.

It was a thick, black business card with gold lettering. On the back, written in sharp, rushed handwriting, were words that made my blood run entirely cold.

I know you aren't Victoria. Meet me tomorrow by 3pm at the Grand Central lounge, alone. If you don't show up, or if you tell Adrian, I'll reveal the truth to the press.

I pressed a hand over my mouth to stifle a gasp.

Cold sweat broke out across my forehead.

I looked back into the toilet. Now I was wishing I didn't flush it so soon. If he wrote this on his card, what did he write on the note?

Milan didn't just suspect something was wrong—he knew. He knew I was an impostor.

My mind raced frantically.

How did he know? Was he working with Richard? But Richard was desperate to keep this stupid game a secret, he wouldn't go around telling everyone of his foul play.

Or had Milan simply known the real Victoria to the extent that one look at my face gave me away instantly?

We are very identical in looks, Victoria and I. But anyone who had spent time with her would also know.

I hid the card deep inside my bra, and washed my face with cold water to hide the terror in my eyes.

The next morning, the mansion was filled with heavy tension. Adrian was on high alert, his company crisis merging with the dark, possessive anger over Milan.

He insisted on taking me with him to the company, placing two full-time security guards at my side the moment we arrived at his grand skyscraper, Kingsley Enterprises.

“Stay in my private suite,” Adrian instructed me sternly before heading into an emergency meeting with his legal team. “Gerald's men are outside the door. You don't leave this floor.”

“I understand,” I replied, forcing a calm smile.

Sitting in his massive office overlooking the New York skyline, the hours ticked away like a ticking time bomb.

1:00PM.

1:45PM.

2:15PM.

The pressure in my chest grew so intense I could barely breathe.

If I stayed here till 3 o'clock, Milan would carry out his threat. I had no choice. I had to face him.

At 2:30PM, I put on my coat and walked towards the door. When the two guards stepped forward, I used the only weapon I had—the authority of being Victoria Kingsley.

“I need to go to the lounge downstairs for fresh air,” I said, keeping my voice cold and firm, hoping I sounded like an arrogant billionaire's wife.

“Do not follow me. I want privacy, or I will have my husband replace both of you immediately.”

The guards hesitated, exchanging an uneasy glance, but eventually stepped back and allowed me to walk to the elevator.

Twenty minutes later, I stepped out of a yellow cab in front of Grand Central Station. My legs felt like lead as I navigated my way to the lounge.

Sitting in a plush velvet booth in the far corner, swirling a glass of scotch, was Milan Rojer.

The second I stepped towards his table, his dark eyes locked on mine. A slow, terrifying smile spread across his face.

I slid into the booth across from him, keeping my spine rigid, though my hands were shaking so hard under the table that I had to clench them into tight fists.

“You came,” Milan murmured smoothly, taking a slow sip of his drink. “I was beginning to think you didn't have the guts.”

“What do you want, Milan?” I demanded, keeping my voice down so others wouldn't hear.

“Why did you drag me out here?”

Milan set his glass down on the table, then he leaned forward across the table, closing the distance between us.

The charming, polite facade he wore at dinner was completely gone, replaced by a cold, menacing glare that made my skin crawl.

“You played a good part at dinner, sweetheart,” Milan whispered, his voice dripping with mockery. “You wore the diamonds, the silk, and tried your absolute best to act like Victoria.”

He leaned in closer, his eyes narrowing even more.

“So tell me…” Milan purred, his voice dropping into a terrifying whisper that shattered my world into a thousand pieces.

“Who the fuck are you?”