CHAPTER 50: TORMENTORS

–Laura–

I watched as Alyssa burst into tears upon receiving the crocodile bag—one of the rare ones. Even her mom looked stunned.

"It’s the most beautiful bag I’ll ever have," Alyssa said, hugging Livana, who smiled and patted her back. That million-dollar bag was clearly a dream come true for her. The joy on her face, mirrored by the smiles from her brothers, parents, and grandparents, made the whole moment feel warm and perfect.

"Aren’t you a little too young to have such a bag, Alyssa?" came a voice. It was the Aunt—Yohan’s wife—arriving a little late and clearly not in the spirit. I caught the flicker in Alyssa’s expression. Total mood killer.

"You can use it at school tomorrow," Livana said brightly, her smile wide. "Just don’t leave it unattended, okay?"

Alyssa nodded, still beaming.

"That’s very generous, dear," Grandpa Isabella added with a kind smile.

"Dinner’s ready!" David announced, pausing as he spotted the bag. "Oh wow! That’s expensive!"

"It’s beautiful, isn’t it?" Alyssa held it up proudly. "Livy gave it to me."

"Wow, you’re really something, sis. Do you have something for me too?"

"Cheesecake," Livana replied with a teasing smile. David looked momentarily crushed.

"Okay," he shrugged, and I couldn’t help but chuckle.

"Go and take it to your room," Livana told Alyssa, who nodded eagerly. She carefully placed the bag back into its dust bag and box before heading upstairs. I made my way over to my sister.

"You just made someone so happy, sis," I said with a grin, and she nodded, modest as always.

"You’re already spoiling my sister," Damon said, grinning as he pulled Livana into a hug and kissed her cheek. I stepped aside to give them space.

That Aunt—the one with the snide comment—was promptly ignored by everyone. Good.

Dinner was ready, and I was starving. I tugged Damien closer, and he grinned, rubbing my side affectionately. I was definitely ready for some love tonight. First time in his room here at the residence—finally.

Once we all sat down, the conversation shifted to the explosion. I was honest and gave all the details—nothing more, nothing less. Uncle Hardin even asked if I needed help, but honestly, the investigation was ongoing. Livana was handling most of it anyway.

The boys who used to mock my man were now eating in silence. I noticed Brandon—the youngest, and the rapist—sitting stiffly, glancing awkwardly at Livana. Damon kept shooting him cold glares, but surprisingly, he managed to stay civil.

"A back rub tonight?" Damien whispered, rubbing my lower back. I pouted—he knows me too well.

"Yes," I whispered back with a grin.

A phone vibrated. I looked over at Livana, sitting beside me. Her phone buzzed again in the pocket of her peach dress. She slid a hand into it but continued eating, unfazed. When it buzzed yet again, I could tell—it had to be important.

"Please excuse me," Livana said as she stood and took her walking stick. She walked away from the table just as Jane approached her.

Something’s wrong. While Livana was taking that call, both David and Uncle Hardin received calls too.

"What’s happening?" I mumbled, watching as Damon suddenly stood.

"Parla? Cosa intendi con quello che ha fatto Dela Vega?!" Damon shouted. "Quanto hanno preso?!"

My heart nearly jumped out of my chest. I grabbed Damien’s hand. Damon sounded—no, was—terrifying.

Livana returned, calm as ever, and sat down with the same grace she always had. I leaned closer. She picked up her utensils again like nothing had happened, while the three men on their phones looked visibly tense.

"What happened?" I asked.

"It seems Dela Vega just betrayed Blackwell," Livana said, bringing a bite of steak to her lips. "With the big shipment—worth half a billion."

I glanced at Grandpa Wilbert. His face was strained and silent.

"Babe," Damon said, leaning down to hug her neck. "Can you intercept it?"

"I already did. The shipment is being rerouted to your warehouse."

"You did what?" Yohan asked, stunned.

"Yes, you heard me. Dela Vega entered my territory. If the shipment wasn’t ours, my men intercepted it. They took a wrong turn."

I blinked, trying to make sense of it all. What even was this shipment? A container? Illegal stuff? And what if they got caught? I sighed, staring at Livana. I honestly had no clue what kind of work she did. She had people, sure, but she didn’t run things directly.

"Thank you, baby," Damon said, kissing her cheek.

She stayed quiet, just kept eating, while Uncle Hardin and David sat back down, their eyes still fixed on her.

"It’ll be alright," Damon said confidently. "I’ll work on the shipment tonight."

He sounded sure of himself, but the tension at the table was real. They were all rich, yes—but this was a half-billionshipment. I couldn’t help but wonder again...

What the hell was inside it?

–Damon–

My wife is a goddamn genius.

The situation with Dela Vega? They’ll claim someone betrayed them, that they were set up. Maybe it’s a ploy to cut ties with us. Fine. Let them. We can create another politician—another puppet—to protect us and the family. Blackwell always finds a way out. We always win.

And now, with my wife—my Livana—holding more connections than anyone could count, she’s not just saving us. She’s saving me. I don’t even know how she intercepted the shipment. Honestly? It felt like another setup—one aimed at trapping Braxton. And she saw it coming.

I was brooding over it all when she walked in.

Wearing a green robe.

God.

I don’t even know what kind of green it was—forest? emerald?—but on her, it was lethal. It clung to her body in all the right places, the laces tracing down her chest like they were made just for her.

"I thought you were working?" she asked, walking toward me, calm and gorgeous as ever.

I couldn’t stop the grin. My hands naturally found her waist, like they belonged there. Because they do. She’s mine.

"I will be working," I said, my voice rough with want. "Let me be selfish tonight. Just once."

I kissed her face again and again. Each kiss is a promise. Each touch was a quiet obsession I couldn’t contain.

"Too bad it’ll be only one time," she teased.

I slowly pulled at the robe. A surprise. God, that green—deep and dark. I couldn’t name the shade, but I didn’t care. It looked like sin draped over heaven. The lace framed her breasts perfectly, and I had to pause to appreciate what I already owned. Her body was a masterpiece. My hands went back to her waist. She was all perfect curves and soft sighs.

"I love you," I whispered, smothering her face in kisses again. "I was wondering, love... do they report everything to you?"

"Not entirely," she replied, her voice calm, knowing. "This one was big. That shipment didn’t belong to us—and there was an NBI unit ready to corner it. It was tampered with... stamped to look like Carrington property."

"Oh," I gaped. "That’s... that’s fucked up, love."

"It’s not new," she said softly, her fingers gliding up my shoulders. "Your muscles feel harder."

Probably because I hadn’t been laid in days. I’ve been training. Lifting. Boxing. Running. But it’s not the same as having her.

"Maybe I’ve been getting stronger," I said, half teasing. "Or maybe I just miss you."

"Hmm," she purred, sultry and amused. "Getting sexier for me? Maybe I should limit our love-making. Might help your gains."

"Oh, no," I groaned dramatically. I love the gym, yeah—but I love her more. "Don’t do this to me, baby. Please."

She smiled, her hand trailing down my chest, lower. Her fingers traced the ridges of my abdomen. Then she reached the hardest part of me. I caught her expression—those parted lips, the slight gasp. I grabbed her chin and kissed her hard.

And then we made love like we were starving for each other. Wild. Desperate. Mine.

After, I kissed every inch of her skin, dressed her in soft pajamas, and tucked her in. My cousins were still around, and I didn’t trust them—especially not Brandon. I still had to restrain myself every time I saw his face. He’d touched my wife once. Once. That was more than enough.

"I’ll be going, my love," I said quietly.

"Hmm." She held my hand and gave me one last kiss. I lingered.

"Take care," she whispered.

"I will. I’ll be back soon."

"Hmm," was all she replied, already half-asleep.

I locked the door from the inside before closing it. Safety first. No one touches her when I’m gone.

Downstairs, I saw my mother with her tablet, my father beside her, both likely working on some PR statement.

"Heading out?" Mom asked.

I nodded and walked over to kiss her cheek. "Can you please keep an eye on Livana? I don’t trust Brandon not to try something again."

"Oh, dear," she said, straightening. "Of course. She’ll be safe."

"Hmm, I gotta go," I muttered.

Outside, my car was already waiting—but then I heard it. Grunting. Violent.

I turned toward the sound, alert, and to my complete disbelief—I saw Laura on top of a man. Punching. Hard. Wild.

It took me a second to realize Ion was under her, barely moving. Another guy—Ion, maybe—was trying to pull her off.

"Laura?" I called, but she didn’t even hear me.

"You bastard! Bastard!" she yelled, throwing another fist into his face. Ion wasn’t even fighting back. Just bleeding. Moaning.

Oh, he was messed up. I stepped in and scooped Laura from under her arms just as she tried to smack me. I dodged just in time. Ion coughed and whimpered.

"Okay, that’s enough," I said, firmly.

Her hand—small, delicate—was bruised. It pissed me off seeing her hurt like that.

"Get off me! I’m gonna kill that fucking bastard!" she screamed.

What the hell happened?

"Laura!" Damien’s voice rang out. "Where the fuck are you?!"

"Here!" I shouted.

He ran up, eyes wide with shock.

"What the hell?! I left you for one minute to get cheesecake!"

I set Laura down with a sigh, still stunned.

Her eyes were blazing, filled with murder. She had a bruise forming on her cheek, and her arm... it was bleeding.

"Shit," Damien gasped, grabbing her face gently. "He laid a hand on you?"

He turned to Ion, his jaw clenched, ready to explode—but he stopped. Ion’s face was destroyed. His wrist looked broken. Not worth it.

"Beat him up later—when he’s recovered," I muttered.

I called security. The guard pulled up in a golf cart.

"Take him to the hospital," I ordered, rubbing my temple.

I was supposed to head out. Handle the shipment. Be calm.

But now?

Now I had to process the fact that little sweet, delicate Laura had just beaten a man half to death.

What a night.