MYKEL'S POV:
I came home in the early evening, the sky bruised with twilight. My afternoon meetings had been abruptly canceled due to a client's scheduling delay, leaving me with an unexpected window of peace.
The moment the heavy oak doors swung open, small, hurried footsteps echoed down the hallway. Alex came running toward me, his face lighting up. I caught him mid-stride, lifting him effortlessly into my arms.
"What is my little sugar plum doing?" I asked, a rare, genuine smile breaking through my usual stern demeanor.
"Waiting for Mum..." he mumbled, resting his small head against my shoulder.
My smile faded instantly. A cold spike of alertness hit me. "Waiting for Mum? Mum isn't home? Where is she?"
Bonnie, the babysitter, stepped out from the living room, her expression apologetic. "She went somewhere this afternoon, Mr. Spencer, but she hasn't returned yet."
My grip on Alex tightened slightly, though I kept my voice calm. "Did she tell you where she was going?"
Bonnie shook her head. "No, sir. She just said she had an errand to run." Sensing the sudden tension in the room, she gently reached out. "Here, let me take Alex upstairs to his room for a bit."
I handed him over, my mind already racing with dark possibilities. I ran a frustrated hand through my hair, loosening my tie with the other. Pulling out my phone, I quickly dialed her number. Just as the line began to ring, the heavy click of the front door lock echoed through the foyer.
I looked up. Ariana stepped inside.
I immediately marched over to her, scanning her face for any signs of distress. "Are you okay? Where on earth were you?"
Before she could answer, Alex came barreling back down the stairs, having heard her voice. The moment Ariana saw him, she dropped to her knees, pulling him tightly into her arms. I stood there, forced to wait patiently, masking the storm brewing inside me.
"I missed you, Mama..." the boy whimpered.
"Mama missed you too," Ariana whispered, her voice thick with an emotion I couldn't quite place. She kissed his cheek tenderly before standing up to check on Axa in her crib.
Throughout dinner, she was a ghost. She barely touched her food, nodding absently to the kids' chatter. I watched her every move, the silence between us growing heavier by the minute.
---
Later that night, after the kids were finally tucked in and asleep, Ariana walked into our master bedroom. I was standing by the balcony window, staring out into the dark estate, a glass of bourbon sweating in my hand.
I didn't turn around immediately. I let the silence hang before demanding quietly, "Where were you today?"
No reply.
I turned around, expecting deflection, but stop dead in my tracks. Ariana was sitting on the edge of the mattress, completely lost in thought, her shoulders slumped. Seeing her look so fragile, my anger dissolved into a dark curiosity. My expression softened. I set my glass down, walked over to the bed, and sat beside her, wrapping an arm around her waist.
"What happened, baby?" I asked softly.
She turned to me, visibly trying to compose herself, but her voice trembled. "Percy's dead..."
I blinked, playing my part. "Who?"
"Percy," she choked out. "My ex. The one whose apartment I stayed at for a day when that massive thunderstorm hit, remember?"
"Yeah... barely," I lied smoothly. I squeezed her shoulder, putting on my best face of solemn shock. "But... how did he die?"
*Of course I knew how he died.* I was the one who had put him in his grave. I was the one who ensured his final breaths were filled with agony for ever touching what belonged to me. But out here, in the light, I had to pretend to care.
"He was murdered," she whispered, a tear finally escaping. "On his way to the airport..."
"But why?" I asked, my voice laced with fabricated disbelief. "Why would someone kill a kind soul like him?"
Ariana lifted her eyes to meet mine. They were swimming with genuine grief—grief for *him*. A sudden, violent surge of jealousy made my blood boil beneath my skin. How dare she weep for another man in my bedroom? Still, my mask didn't slip. I pulled her into my chest, holding her tight so she couldn't see the murderous glint in my eyes.
"That's what I'm thinking..." she sobbed into my shoulder. "How could someone brutally murder him like that? How can someone be so cruel?"
I rubbed her back, but my mind was already shifting gears. *How did she find out?* The hit was clean. It shouldn't have linked back to her so quickly. I pulled away slowly, using my thumb to gently wipe the tears from her pale cheeks.
"Who told you, by the way?" I asked casually.
"A detective," she sniffled. "He's handling the investigation. He tracked me down because of my past connection to Percy."
My eyes narrowed imperceptibly. "What's his name?"
"Ryan Walter... why?"
"You should keep your distance from him," I warned, my tone shifting into that of a protective husband. "Law enforcement types like him will only annoy you with useless, intrusive questions during a time when you need to heal. Let me handle it if he calls again."
Ariana nodded weakly, trusting me completely.
"Go to sleep, beautiful," I murmured, kissing her forehead.
As she drifted off, I memorized the name, rolling it around in my head like a smooth stone. Detective Ryan Walter. I needed to pull this thorn out of my side before it had a chance to prick my finger.
---
The next morning at the office, the atmosphere was strictly business. I sat behind my heavy mahogany desk as Chris, my right-hand man, walked in.
"Chris," I said, not looking up from my tablet. "Find everything you can on a Detective Ryan Walter. I want his history, his record, his weaknesses. Everything."
It didn't take long. Within a couple of hours, Chris returned, sliding a thick manila folder across my desk.
"Detective Ryan Walter," Chris briefed. "Ten years in the homicide division. Clean record, stubborn as a mule, and has a reputation for never letting a case go. If he senses something is off, he'll dig until he hits a bone."
I opened the file, scanning the detective's stern face in the photograph. "He thinks he's a bloodhound. But a twisted, confusing investigation is exactly what keeps people like him occupied. Let him have his fun journey. But if he steps into my territory, I'll rip him apart just like the rest of them."
Chris shifted uncomfortably. "But boss... what if he actually manages to trace the hit back to us?"
I leaned back in my leather chair, a cold, mocking smirk playing on my lips. "Chris... you seem to have forgotten who I am. I'm not some petty thief or a desperate serial killer who leaves a trail of breadcrumbs. I am the Mafia King. I don't get caught." I stood up, buttoning my suit jacket. "We're going to his office after my next meeting."
Chris blinked in surprise. "His office? Sir, isn't that walking right into the lion's den?"
"I like to look my problems in the eye, Chris. I want to personally see this thorn before I snap it."
---
An hour later, we arrived at the precinct. The air smelled of stale coffee and cheap floor wax. Right next to Walter's office was the glass-walled forensic department. An officer approached us, looking at my high-end tailored suit with an air of intimidation.
"Detective Walter will be here in two minutes, sir," the officer said politely.
I simply nodded, standing with my hands casually tucked into my pockets.
Right on time, a man walked down the corridor. He had sharp, dark brown eyes, the eyes of a hunter. He wore a long, damp black trench coat, brushing a few stray raindrops from his shoulders as he entered. He stopped, his gaze locking onto me. He stared a beat too long, assessing me. I wanted nothing more than to pluck those arrogant eyes right out of his skull, but instead, I flashed a gentle, perfectly practiced smile.
"Detective Ryan Walter?" I inquired.
"Yeah, I am," he replied, his voice gruff, his posture guarded. "And who are you?"
"Mykel Spencer," I said, extending a hand.
Walter didn't take it immediately. He narrowed his eyes, the gears turning in his head. "Are you... Mrs. Spencer's..."
"Husband," I finished for him, dropping my hand smoothly. "I was absolutely devastated to hear about Percy. He was like a brother to me... it's tragic for a friend to end up like this. I came here because I wanted to see if there was anything I could do to assist... and frankly, to see the reality of it with my own eyes."
Walter's eyes narrowed into slits, his skepticism radiating off him in waves. "A brother-like friend? Isn't that your wife's ex-boyfriend?"
"That was in the past, Detective," I replied, my voice a masterpiece of calm, forgiving maturity. "I don't hold past grudges. I forgive and forget. My wife treated him as a dear friend, and her friends are my friends. This one, in particular, she was very close to. Percy was so kind to me that our relationship transcended past jealousy. Who else would tolerate their wife staying the whole day at a friend's apartment during a storm? I trusted him with the most precious thing in my life."
I stepped a fraction closer, lowering my voice to a tone of fierce, fake determination. "And I will do whatever it takes to assist you in catching his murderer. Even if I have to pay any price. Financially, or otherwise."
Walter stared at me, trying to read the unreadable. The silence stretched between us, a silent battle of wills. Finally, he pulled a small notebook from his pocket.
"Hmm..." Walter grunted, not entirely buying the act but unable to dispute it. "Give me your number. I'll contact you if I need any help with the background check."
"Of course." I pulled out a sleek, matte-black business card and handed it to him. "Have a good day, Detective."
I turned on my heel and walked out of the precinct, my smile vanishing the second the glass doors closed behind me. The game had officially begun.