Married to the Billionaire Who Betrayed Me novel Chapter 193

Chapter 193 Lying to your Wife’s Face

“You do not walk into a slaughterhouse because the butcher sent a polite letter, Tristan said. He stood between me and the heavy oak door of the penthouse.

“I am the Chairman.” I replied.

The object of our war rested on the glass coffee table. A heavy, black envelope. No stamp. No return address. The building’s security detail found it sitting on the concierge desk an hour ago. The cameras caught nothing.

Inside the envelope sat a single sheet of thick cardstock. It held a time, a location in the eastern sector, and a demand for my presence. It promised a

conversation to end the shipping blockade.

“It is a trap,” Tristan stated. The dark circles under his gray eyes betrayed his exhaustion. We had not slept since the argument in the shipping yard. “They bypassed Marcus. They bypassed the lobby guards. They want you out of this tower so they can isolate you.”

“They want a negotiation,” I corrected. “They realize the cyber-attack failed to bankrupt us. They realize we froze the Vanguard assets. Now, they want to

deal.

“Syndicates do not deal!” Tristan shouted. “They extort. They bleed you. If you go to the eastern sector, you give them the leverage they crave.”

“They already have leverage,” I said. “They stood outside Elias’s window. They stole our ships. If I hide in this penthouse, I prove I ant weak. I prove I fear

them.”

“You should fear them,” Tristan pleaded. He closed the distance. He grabbed my wrists. “Mina, listen to me. I know these men. I know the violence they

inflict.”

I stared down at his hands, then brought my gaze up to meet his.

‘Let go of me,’ I ordered.

Tristan flinched.

“Do not do this,’ Tristan whispered. “I am begging you. Let me go in your place. Let me take the risk.

“The invitation holds my name,’ I said. “Not yours.”

‘I am your husband,’ he countered. “My job is to keep you safe.”

“Your job is to stand beside me.” I shot back.

I walked past him. I moved toward the glass table and picked up the black envelope.

The eastern sector represented a wasteland of abandoned factories, rusted shipping yards, and unchecked corruption. It was the place Oliver Pembroke burk his ghost network. It was the perfect stage for an ambush.

I knew the risk. I accepted it.

The penthouse door opened. Marcus stepped inside. He wore a tactical vest over his black shirt. A heavy sidearm rested on his hip. His face resembled

carved stone.

1/3

11:44 am

PPP.

Chapter 193 Lying to your Wife’s Face

The unvey is ready, Mina, Marcus announced. “Three armored vehicles. Twelve men. We mapped the route to the warehouse.”

“Thank you, Marcus,” I said.

Tristan turned. He glared at Marcus. You are letting her do this? You know it is an ambush.”

‘I serve the Chairman, Marcus replied. “She gave an order. My job is to ensure she survives it.”

“You cannot guarantee her survival in that sector,” Tristan warned.

‘I will burn the sector to the ground before I let a threat touch her, Marcus stated.

“Mina, Tristan said. He ignored Marcus and focused entirely on me. “If you walk out that door, you cross a line. You are playing a game you do not

understand.”

0400

‘I understand the game,” I said. I walked toward the exit. I stopped beside my husband. I did not touch him. “The game is survival. I played it in Port

Sterling while you sat in boardrooms. I know how to survive.”

I stepped out of the penthouse. The heavy door closed behind me, cutting off the sight of Tristan standing alone in the living room.

The elevator ride to the underground garage passed in total silence. My heart hammered against my ribs, a frantic, heavy rhythm. The fear existed, cold and

sharp, but I buried it under layers of pure resolve.

We reached the garage. The three black SUVS sat idling. Armed guards stood by the doors. The scene looked like a military deployment, not a corporate

transit.

Marcus opened the rear door of the center vehicle. I climbed inside. The leather seat felt cold. Marcus took the passenger seat up front. The driver put the car in gear. The convoy moved out, ascending the concrete ramp into the gray morning light.

The city streets blurred past the tinted windows. The sleek glass towers of the financial district faded, replaced by the grim, decaying architecture of the eastern sector. Broken pavement. Boarded windows. Rusted metal fences.

“We are ten minutes out,’ Marcus reported over the internal comms. “All units, weapons hot. Keep the perimeter tight.”

I stared out the window. The invitation dictated a meeting at an abandoned textile mill on the edge of the river. It was a dead zone. No cameras. No police patrols. A place designed for secrets and violence.

My phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out. The screen displayed a message from an unknown number.

r

The Chairman leaves her tower. Good. Come alone into the main hall.

I locked the screen. I did not show the message to Marcus. He would refuse the order. He would tear the mill apart. But a show of force was not a negotiation. It was a provocation. If I wanted the proxy’s name, if I wanted to trace the money back to Thomas Whitmore, I needed to look the enemy in the

eye.

The convoy slowed. The tires crunched over broken glass and loose gravel. We pulled into the courtyard of the massive, brick textile mill. The structure

loomed over us, a dark, hollow beast.

The vehicles stopped in a defensive formation. Marcus stepped out, his weapon drawn, scanning the empty courtyard.

‘Clear, Marcus called out.

2/3

11:44 am

ppp.

Chapter 193 Lying to your Wife’s Face

opepod my deer and stepped onto the dirt. The cold wind bit through may suit. The river smelled of rust and rot.

Marcus moved to my side. We breach the front doors. Two men take the flank.”

“No,” I ordered.

Marcus stopped. He looked at me, confusion breaking his stoic expression.

“I go in alone,” I stated.

“Absolutely not, Marcus rejected the command. It was the first time he ever defied me. “The perimeter is unsecured. It is a death trap, Mina.”

They expect an army,” I said. I met his gaze. I projected absolute authority. “If you march in there with guns drawn, they shoot. I lose the leverage I need the name of the proxy. I cannot get the name from a corpse.”

“If you go in alone, you might become the corpse.”

“Stand down, Marcus,” I commanded. “That is not a request.”

Marcus’s jaw locked. The muscles in his neck strained. He hated the order. He hated the vulnerability. But he recognized the steel in my voice. He lowered

his weapon.

“Five minutes,” Marcus said. His voice was a harsh scrape. “If you do not walk out in five minutes, I am tearing the building apart.”

“Five minutes,’ I agreed.

Comments

Like

Write Comments

<Share

3/3

Married to the Billionaire Who Betrayed Me