The next morning dawned darker than usual. Heavy clouds pressed against the sky, casting shadows over the Kingsley estate. But inside the mansion, something had changed. Amira no longer walked like a prisoner in silk. She walked like someone with purpose—like someone who knew that survival now depended on strength, not silence.
Jordan had already assembled his inner circle in the war room by the time she arrived. Mila glanced at Amira with a new look—something like respect.
"Sit," Jordan said, nodding toward the seat beside him. "You're part of this now."
Amira didn't hesitate. She sat down, her gaze steady.
"We have two objectives," Jordan continued. "Find the mole. And stop Richard before he initiates the final sequence of Project X."
Mila slid a file across the table. Inside were surveillance photos, bank logs, encrypted messages. One name appeared again and again.
Graham Nolan.
Jordan's trusted legal adviser. The man who helped draft the original marriage contract.
Amira's stomach turned. "He was the one who said the contract had loopholes…"
Jordan nodded grimly. "He planted them. On Richard's orders."
---
Turning the Tables
That evening, Amira did something no one expected—she went to see Graham.
Alone.
He was in his downtown office, calm and smug behind his desk. "Amira. Or should I say Mrs. Kingsley. To what do I owe the pleasure?"
She dropped the file on his desk. "You've been feeding Richard information. That ends now."
He chuckled. "And if I refuse? Call security? Frame you for blackmail?"
She leaned in, her voice ice. "Do that, and every piece of this file gets leaked to the press. The board. The federal authorities. And Jordan? He won't just destroy your reputation—he'll bury your entire career."
Graham's smile faltered.
"I want every name Richard has contacted. Every deal. Every move. You'll write it down. And you'll disappear after. Or I'll make sure you do."
He looked at her, stunned. "He was right about you."
She raised a brow. "Oh?"
"He said you were the perfect pawn. But he was wrong." Graham swallowed hard. "You're not a pawn. You're the queen."
---
Jordan's Confession
That night, Amira found Jordan in the garden, standing beneath the moonlight, deep in thought.
She approached him slowly. "I did what needed to be done."
He turned to her, pride shining in his eyes. "You're incredible."
She gave him a look. "But we still have a war to fight."
Jordan sighed. "And there's something I need to tell you. The real reason I started Project X. The real reason I needed a son."
Amira held her breath.
"There's a clause in the Kingsley estate," he said quietly. "Hidden in the founding documents. The power, the assets, everything—it transfers not just through blood… but through male blood. A son. That's why my father never gave it to me directly. And why my grandfather insisted I carry on the line."
"So, the marriage… the contract…"
"It started as a necessity," he said. "But somewhere along the way, it stopped feeling like a transaction. I wanted more than a son. I wanted you."
Amira's chest tightened. "Even after everything?"
Jordan stepped closer. "Especially after everything."
---
A Silent Threat
Just as their lips nearly met, Mila burst through the doors.
"We have a problem," she said breathlessly. "Graham's office was raided. He's missing."
Amira's blood ran cold. "You think Richard found out?"
Mila handed Jordan a bloodied envelope.
Inside was a photo.
Amira. Taken hours ago. Standing alone outside Graham's building.
On the back, in jagged handwriting:
> Your queen is marked. Let's see how long you can protect her.
—R
Amira looked up at Jordan, her voice calm but cold.
"He wants to play? Fine."
She took Jordan's hand.
"Then let's give him a war."