The hotel was discreet—on the edge of town, cloaked by a high iron gate and a reputation for silence. Geraldine wore a plain black coat, no jewelry, no perfume, no chauffeur. She walked in like smoke—quiet, drifting, unnoticed.
Room 417.
She knocked once.
The door opened before she could breathe twice.
Lachlan stood in the doorway, shirt sleeves rolled, gun holstered openly under his arm. He didn't smile. He didn't invite her in. He just stepped back and let her walk past him.
The room was minimal. One desk, two chairs, an untouched bed, and a bottle of whiskey on the counter.
"You came," he said.
Geraldine pulled off her coat. "Let's not play games. You called. I showed. What do you want?"
Lachlan poured a drink. "To make you an offer."
She didn't sit. She leaned against the desk. "What kind?"
"The kind that keeps your children breathing."
Her spine stiffened. "Is that a threat?"
"No," he said. "It's a fact. Bekett's enemies are watching you. The moment you step too far, they won't come for you—they'll come for the soft spots. Your girls."
"And you'd protect them out of the kindness of your heart?"
"No," Lachlan said simply. "But because helping you helps me."
Geraldine narrowed her eyes. "You hate Bekett that much?"
"I hate what he did to my brother. What he did to my family. I hate that he thinks he's untouchable. You and I? We have the same enemy."
She finally sat.
Lachlan reached into the drawer and pulled out a manila file. He slid it toward her.
Geraldine opened it—and immediately felt her stomach twist.
Photos. Bekett. With men she didn't recognize, handing off briefcases, signing papers, entering underground clubs.
"This is just a taste," Lachlan said. "Your husband is part of a multi-state arms trade network. Trafficking, laundering, assassination contracts. All with his neat little signature at the bottom."
She stared at the evidence. "Why are you giving this to me?"
"Because no matter how powerful I am… I'm not his wife. You are the one person who can sink him from the inside."
"And when he falls?"
Lachlan's jaw flexed. "I rise."
Geraldine looked up at him. "You're using me."
"Of course I am. Just like you'll use me."
Silence.
And then—Geraldine smiled.
"You really think I can play him?"
Lachlan's gaze darkened. "I think you already are."
By the time she got back home, it was almost midnight. The house was dark, silent. She tiptoed past the children's rooms and slipped into her own.
Bekett was already in bed.
She paused by the doorway.
"I saw you at lunch," he said, voice heavy with sleep—or something darker.
Geraldine's hand curled into a fist. "The girls wanted spaghetti."
"And Lachlan?"
She stiffened. "What about him?"
"He was there. Same restaurant. Don't play stupid."
She turned toward the mirror. "Maybe he was. We didn't speak."
He sat up, bare-chested, eyes gleaming in the moonlight. "Be careful, Geraldine. Some men will pretend to save you… just to own you."
She met his gaze. "Good thing I don't need saving."
Bekett's mouth curled into a smirk. "Everyone needs saving from something."
The next morning, Geraldine dropped the girls off at school herself. Reena waved from the entrance. Lovia kissed her cheek twice. They didn't notice the black car parked across the street, or the man inside watching with a camera.
But Geraldine did.
And she smiled at it.
Let them watch.
She had a devil in her corner now.
Back at the house, Nina was waiting with new information.
"Bekett's leaving for a 'business trip' this weekend. But I checked his calendar—he's heading to a private estate outside Vermont. That's where he hosts the closed-door auctions."
"Auctions?" Geraldine asked, her voice tight.
Nina nodded grimly. "People. Weapons. Secrets."
Geraldine's skin crawled. "Then we'll follow."
Nina looked at her like she'd lost her mind. "That's suicide."
Geraldine stepped forward. "Not if we make the first move."
That night, as Geraldine sat in her closet again—flash drive in one hand, Lachlan's file in the other—she realized something:
She wasn't caught in the middle of a war.
She was the war.
And for the first time in her life, she felt powerful.
But power always came with a price.
And someone was already preparing to collect.