Page 83 of Billionaire’s Ruin

Lincoln nodded once, jaw carved from stone. “That woman turned her son’s fiancée into her little pawn. Just so she could keep control. Tell me again why I shouldn’t call her a witch.”

The word hit me like a slap.

Fiancée.

For a heartbeat, I forgot how to breathe. The word sliced through everything—the fear, the anger, the panic—cutting straight to the truth I’d been running from since the moment I got on that plane.

Lucy.

Kai still had his fiancée.

And here I was, standing in his apartment, acting like this was about helping Lincoln, about doing what was right. Pretending I came because I cared about justice or safety or duty.

But I knew better.

I came because I couldn’t stay away.

Because even after everything—after he broke me, after I swore I’d never look back—I still obsessed over him. I still ached for him.

A tight knot formed in my throat. Blinking hard, I forced the tears to stay put. “Lucy… she must’ve been terrified,” I whispered, my voice barely holding together. “Kai’s mother always knew how to control people. Lucy… maybe the poor girl didn’t have a choice.”

Lincoln scoffed, dragging a hand across his forehead. “Maybe. But choice or not, Kai’s the one suffering for all this.”

A part of me wanted to defend Lucy. I wanted to say she wasn’t the villain here.

But the words stuck in my throat.

Because part of me—an ugly, selfish part—didn’t want her absolved.

Not yet.

Not when she still had what I’d lost.

Andy cleared her throat softly, cutting through the tension.

“If I may,” she said, voice gentle but solid—the voice of someone who knew how to bring order to chaos. “We’ve already started mapping out a plan. His mother’s security detail has doubled since last week. They’ve replaced most of the household staff.”

Lincoln straightened. “Which means we can’t just walk in.”

“Exactly,” Andy said. “We’ll need a diversion. Something big enough to pull guards away from the west wing, where Mr. Li is most likely being held.”

“The west wing,” Lincoln muttered, almost to himself. “Figures.”

Andy continued, “The problem is, we don’t have a fixed time. We move when Lucy next visits.”

My stomach lurched.

“Visits,” I repeated, the word tasting bitter.

“Lucy promised to take the injection,” Andy said. “If Lucy makes the visit look routine, there’s a chance he won’t be heavily sedated that day. He might be awake when we get him out. But there’s no guarantee.”

Lincoln’s fingers drummed against the table—sharp, restless taps. “No guarantee,” he echoed. “So we prepared for every outcome.”

Dave nodded. “Precise timing. Diversion to the west wing. Medical”—his eyes flicked to me—“ready to counter whatever they’re pumping into Kai.”

I inhaled sharply. It felt reckless. Dangerous.

Exactly the kind of plan we’d have to make.