That afternoon, everything changed.
Marcus arrived with news, his expression grim. "We found them."
Cain's entire demeanor shifted. "Where?"
"Safe house in Queens. Two men, ex-military like we thought. They're talking."
"And?"
Marcus glanced at me, uncertain.
"She stays," Cain said firmly. "Whatever it is, she needs to know."
Marcus nodded. "They were hired by someone connected to Whitmore. But not Whitmore himself."
"Then who?"
"His fiancée. Caroline Ashford."
The room went silent. I stared at Marcus, not understanding. "Why would Caroline hire people to break into my apartment?"
"Because she knows." Marcus pulled out his phone, showing us a photo. "One of her bridesmaids works in corporate security. Ran background checks on anyone suspicious around the wedding. Your name came up ex of Damien Sterling, professional troublemaker, recently seen with Cain Moretti."
"She knows we're planning to crash her wedding," I said slowly.
"She suspects. She doesn't have proof."
Marcus looked at Cain. "But she's smart. She put together that you want Whitmore's company, that you'd use any leverage necessary, and that a destroyed wedding would give you that leverage."
Cain was silent, his mind clearly racing through scenarios.
"So what do we do?" I asked. "Cancel the plan?"
"No." His voice was cold, calculated. "We accelerate it."
"What?"
"If Caroline knows we're coming, she'll beef up security. Make it impossible to get close."
He started pacing, that dangerous energy radiating off him. "But if we move now tonight before she can prepare, we catch her off guard."
"Tonight?" My heart hammered. "The wedding isn't for five more days!"
"We're not crashing the wedding. We're going to her." His smile was sharp. "Marcus, where is she right now?"
Marcus checked his phone. "According to her social media, she's at a spa day with her bridesmaids. The Sanctuary in Soho."
"Perfect." Cain turned to me. "Get dressed. Something expensive. We're going to have a conversation with the future Mrs. Whitmore."
An hour later, I was walking into the most exclusive spa in Manhattan wearing the ice-blue dress from the boutique and carrying a designer bag I'd never be able to afford on my own.
Cain waited in the car this needed to be woman-to-woman. Less threatening. More personal.
I found Caroline in the relaxation lounge, cucumber slices on her eyes, champagne in hand. Her bridesmaids flanked her like sentries.
"Caroline Ashford?"
She lifted the cucumber slices, revealing sharp green eyes that assessed me instantly. "Do I know you?"
"No. But you've been looking for me." I sat in the chair across from her, uninvited. "I'm Raven Cross."
The bridesmaids tensed. Caroline waved them off, sitting up straighter. Up close, she was even more beautiful and more intelligent than the photos suggested.
"The wedding crasher." Her voice was calm, controlled. "I wondered when you'd make your move."
"I'm not here to crash anything. I'm here to talk."
"About?"
"About why you hired people to break into my apartment. About what you think I'm planning. And about James Whitmore."
Her expression didn't change, but her knuckles went white around the champagne glass. "I have no idea what you're talking about."
"Yes, you do. You're smart, Caroline. Too smart to marry a man without knowing exactly who he is." I pulled out my phone, loaded with Patricia's files. "The question is do you know the truth? Or just the version he wants you to see?"
"Get out." Her voice was ice. "Before I call security."
"Patricia Whitmore sent you her regards." I set the phone on the table between us. "Along with documentation of every affair your fiancé has had in the last ten years. Hotel receipts. Emails. Photos. All time-stamped. All verified."
Caroline stared at the phone like it might bite her. "You're lying."
"I wish I was." I stood to leave. "Look at them or don't. Marry him or don't. But you deserve to make that choice with your eyes open."
I made it three steps before her voice stopped me.
"Wait."
I turned. She was holding the phone, scrolling through files with shaking hands. Her face had gone pale under her makeup.
"This is…" She swallowed hard. "This is real?"
"Every word. Every photo. Every betrayal." I came back, sat beside her. "Patricia stayed for eighteen years. Gave up everything. And he threw it away for younger women plural. You're just the latest."
Tears slipped down her cheeks, ruining her careful mascara. "He told me she was bitter. That she made his life hell. That leaving her was the best decision he ever made."
"He's a liar, Caroline. A skilled one. And in five days, you're about to legally bind yourself to him without a prenup."
Her head snapped up. "How do you know about that?"
"Because I know men like James. They don't marry without protection unless they have no choice." I leaned forward. "What does he have on you? What's forcing you to marry him without protecting yourself?"
Her laugh was broken. "Nothing. I love him. I thought he loved me." She wiped at her tears. "I'm so stupid."
"You're not stupid. You're trusting. There's a difference."
She scrolled through more files, her expression hardening with each new revelation. "Why are you showing me this? What do you want?"
"I want you to call off the wedding."
"Why? What's in it for you?"
I could've lied. Should've lied. Instead: "My boss wants Whitmore's company. A called-off wedding would pressure James to sell. That's the truth."
Caroline stared at me, then laughed sharp and hysterical. "At least you're honest about being a mercenary."
"I'm done lying to myself about what I am." I stood. "Keep the phone. Show him the files. Confront him. Or don't. But whatever you decide, decide it for yourself. Not for him."
I walked away, feeling her eyes burning into my back.
I'd done it. Given her the truth. The choice was hers now.
Cain was waiting in the car, Marcus at the wheel. "How'd it go?"
"I gave her everything. She's looking at the files now." I buckled in, exhausted. "What happens next is up to her."
"You gave her a choice." He sounded impressed. "That's more mercy than most people get in this business."
"She deserved it. She's not the enemy he is."
Cain's hand found mine, squeezing gently. "You did good."
My phone buzzed. A text from the unknown number again.
Unknown: Very touching. But you're still just a pawn in his game. Ask him about the Volkov deal. Ask him what he really does with the companies he acquires. Ask him how many lives he's destroyed building his empire.
Unknown: You think you're becoming a monster? You're in love with one.
My hand shook. Cain noticed immediately.
"What is it?"
I could delete it again. Pretend. Keep pretending.
Or I could be honest. Really honest, for the first time since this started.
"Someone's been texting me. Threatening me. Telling me you're using me." I handed him the phone. "They want me to ask you about the Volkov deal."