All Chapters of His fake wife, their real obsession: Chapter 61 - Chapter 70

Lydia’s pov The morning sun broke over the sleek, dark glass of L.V. Global Holdings in jagged ribbons of pale gold, but the atmosphere inside the executive elevator was pure sub-zero arctic. I smoothed the front of my tailored charcoal pantsuit, checking my reflection in the polished steel doors. The lingering, delicious aches in my muscles from our night in the subterranean bathhouse were a quiet reminder of the victory we had just won. The Miller family was in ashes. Julian was rotting in a holding cell. I was no longer a survivor running on desperation—I was the reigning sovereign of an empire. Or so I thought until the elevator doors parted on the gridlocked chaos of the sixty-eighth floor. Phones were ringing off their hooks, echoing through the marble halls like a barrage of alarm klaxons. Senior analysts were sprinting between glass offices, arms loaded with physical ledger files, while the digital trade tickers on the main monit

Lydia’s pov The sharp, rhythmic tapping of Kian’s fingers against his encrypted terminal was the only sound cutting through the heavy silence of the locked war room.Outside, the mid-day sun beat down on the glass towers of the financial district, but inside, we were operating in the shadows of global finance. Damian’s physical blockade of the Suez Canal and the Strait of Malacca was a declaration of total war. He wanted a stranglehold on our physical assets to trigger a panic, but he had forgotten one crucial variable: Kian Vance-Cross ruled the dark-market exchanges where true financial destruction was executed."Damian overextended," Kian said, his voice terrifyingly calm as cascading streams of emerald and amber code reflected in his dark eyes. "To finance the physical blockade and lease buyouts overnight, he liquidated his short-term liquid reserves and collateralized forty percent of Vance Logistics’ regional stock subsidiaries in Hong Kong and Frankfurt."

Lydia’s pov The grand ballroom of the Grand Hyatt was a sea of crystal chandeliers, sparkling champagne flutes, and low, humming high-society chatter. As the guest of honor, celebrating the formal launch of L.V. Global Holdings' charitable foundation, I wore a tailored black velvet gown with a sharp, angular neckline that showed off the lines of my neck and collarbone.Zane and Cassian flanked me like two dark, imposing towers in immaculate black tuxedos. Kian had taken a rare step back into the shadows near the balcony, continuously monitoring market trade indicators on his handheld terminal while keeping his eyes swept across the room.The event was supposed to be a victory lap. That was until the massive double doors at the entrance swung open, and the hum of conversation died down into a sudden, suffocating hush.Damian Vance stepped into the ballroom.He was dressed in a sharp, midnight-blue bespoke suit, his silvering hair slicked back, carrying the c

Lydia’s pov The black, churning waters of the Indian Ocean standard miles off the coast of Sri Lanka crashed violently against the reinforced hull of the L.V. Ironclad. Three hundred feet of dark grey, military-grade steel sliced through the heavy swell at twenty-eight knots. Behind us, two secondary tactical interceptor craft cut through the spray, their engines roaring like hunting beasts in the tropical storm. On the optical tactical display inside the wheelhouse, the high-value cargo carrier L.V. Sovereign was dead ahead, lit up like a sitting duck on radar. Surrounding her were four unflagged, heavy-armored fast-attack craft—Damian Vance’s private mercenaries, flying rogue colors and maintaining a lethal chokehold perimeter in international waters. "They just painted our hull with fire-control radar," the tactical officer called out over the blare of storm alarms. "Commander, the lead mercenary vessel is hailing us on the open chann

Lydia’s pov The heavy glass doors of the executive suite slid open, admitting the damp, metallic scent of salt air and high-grade diesel fuel.Cassian and Zane stepped inside, still wearing their dark tactical gear. The salt spray of the Indian Ocean had dried on their coats, but their posture bore the quiet, lethal satisfaction of men who had just won a war. Behind them, the city lights of the skyline stretched out under a clear midnight sky, reflecting off the glass panels of the war room."All three carriers have cleared the choke points," Cassian said, unbuttoning the high collar of his storm coat and tossing it onto a leather chair. His voice was rough, but a dark, victorious glint flashed in his eyes. "The Sovereign is currently making twenty-four knots toward Shanghai. Vance Maritime's regional maritime permits have been revoked by international harbor authorities for illegal blockade activity.""Our quarter revenue is locked," Kian added from his termin