Masuk"We're already married, Liam."I said it flatly, exhausted, as the plane descended through turbulence toward JFK, both of us knowing that in less than an hour we'd be walking into the arms of US authorities ready to arrest us for crimes we didn't commit."Not properly." His voice was hard, determined, the CEO tone that brooked no argument. "Not in a way that protects you and our baby legally. Not in a way that makes it impossible for them to force you to testify against me or vice versa.""We had a ceremony. We signed papers. We're legally married in every sense—""We had a hasty courthouse wedding during a crisis. What I'm talking about is different." He turned to face me fully, his expression carved from stone. "I'm talking about a prenuptial agreement that's bee
"You're already seven weeks pregnant, Evelyn. I already know about the baby."Liam's voice was calm, rational—the exact opposite of the storm raging inside me as we sat in the Singapore airport's first-class lounge, waiting for the flight that would take us back to face murder charges, fraud investigations, and a future neither of us could predict."That's not what I need to tell you." I stared at my untouched coffee, gathering courage for a confession I should have made weeks ago. "It's not about being pregnant. It's about what that pregnancy means. What it's done to me. What I'm terrified it will do to us."He set down his own cup, his full attention shifting to me with that intensity that had first drawn me to him in a crowded bar. "I'm listening."The words cam
I made it exactly three blocks from the hotel before realizing I had nowhere to go.No passport—I'd left it in the hotel safe. No credit cards that weren't linked to accounts Liam could track. No friends in Singapore, no family who'd take my calls, no plan beyond blind flight from the man who'd systematically destroyed my life while claiming to protect it.The morning heat was already oppressive, humidity pressing down like a physical weight. I found myself in a small park, sinking onto a bench while my mind raced through impossible options.Go back to Liam and what—forgive him for fraud? Trust him after he'd proven trust was a weapon he'd use against me? Stay married to a man who'd framed me for murder, however unintentionally?Or stay here, alone and pregna
The nausea hit me three minutes before my alarm was set to go off, violent and unforgiving as a tidal wave.I barely made it to the bathroom before my body revolted, expelling everything from last night's dinner with brutal efficiency. I knelt on the cold marble floor, my hands gripping the toilet, trying to stay quiet despite the retching that seemed determined to wake the entire hotel.Seven weeks pregnant. The morning sickness should be easing by now, but stress had made it worse—every anxiety, every fear manifesting as physical rebellion against my own body.I didn't hear Liam wake up, didn't realize he'd followed me until his hands gathered my hair back, his presence solid and steady behind me."How long?" His voice was rough with sleep and concern. "How long have you been this sick?""It's just morning sickness—" Another wave hit, cutting off my explanation."This isn't just morning sickness. You're barely keeping anything down." His hand rubbed soothing circles on my back. "Eve
The Singapore police released me after exactly forty-seven minutes."There's been a mistake," the lead officer said, his expression carefully neutral as he removed the handcuffs. "The warrant in question was issued but immediately stayed pending appeal. Our office received outdated information. My apologies for the confusion, Mrs. Hawthorne."Confusion. As if being arrested in front of my husband and his ex-girlfriend was simply an administrative error.I watched Natasha's triumphant smile falter, watched her attempt to hide her disappointment behind professional concern, and knew with absolute certainty: this hadn't been a mistake. This had been a power play that had somehow backfired."Someone's playing games," Liam said quietly as we returned to our suite, his hand never leaving mine. "Bennett doesn't make mistakes like this. Someone fed false information to the Singapore authorities.""Natasha." I said it with conviction now, exhaustion and anger finally burning through my uncerta
The police station interrogation room smelled like stale coffee and accusations.I'd been sitting across from Detectives Morrison and Chen for three hours, answering the same questions in different configurations while my attorney—Bennett, rushed from Liam's legal team—took meticulous notes and occasionally interjected objections I barely understood."Let's go through this again," Detective Morrison said, her voice professionally neutral but her eyes sharp with suspicion. "You claim you knew nothing about the life insurance policy taken out on Charlotte Ashford two weeks before her death.""I didn't just claim it—it's the truth. I never took out any policy." My voice was hoarse from repetition. "Someone forged my signature.""Convenient." Detective Chen slid another document across the table. "But the insurance company has your signature on file. Your identification was presented. The premium was paid from an account linked to your Social Security number."I stared at the signature—mi







