46. Emily
46
EMILY
I choose a sleek, tailored dress that makes me feel both powerful and composed, something that reflects the confidence I’m trying to embody.
When I look at myself in the mirror, I almost don’t recognize the woman staring back at me. She looks poised, in control, ready for anything. I take a deep breath, steadying myself, and then I leave the room to join Lucas.
He’s waiting for me in the living room, dressed in a perfectly tailored suit that only enhances his commanding presence. When he sees me, his eyes light up with pride, and for a moment, the tension in the air eases. He crosses the room to me, taking my hand and pulling me close.
“You look incredible,” he murmurs, his voice low and intimate.
“Thank you,” I reply, my heart swelling at the admiration in his eyes. “I wanted to look the part.”
“You do,” he says, pressing a soft kiss to my forehead. “You’re perfect. Poured those curves into that outfit. Might have to tear it off you later.”
Together, we walk to the meeting room, where everything is set for the arrival of Peter. Tying up the last relics of Albrecht’s empire needs his support. The question is, will we get it?
A chessboard is set on the table, a relic from a past where such games were used to settle disputes, to broker deals.
I’ve heard stories about how Jake and his school friends used to play chess, long before they were on opposite sides of a war. It feels fitting, somehow, that today’s peace might be brokered over the same game.
The door opens, and Peter walks in. He’s an older man, sharp-featured with a calculating gaze that misses nothing. He carries himself with an air of authority, but there’s also a tension in his posture, like he knows this meeting could go either way. Like he thinks he might not leave here alive.
Lucas greets him with a nod, his expression calm and unreadable, and I do the same, my heart pounding in my chest. I can feel Peter’s eyes on me, assessing, weighing, but I hold my ground, refusing to be intimidated.
“We have a lot to discuss,” Lucas says, his voice steady and controlled. “But before we get into it, there’s someone I want you to hear from.”
Peter’s gaze shifts to me, his expression curious. I take a deep breath, drawing on the strength Lucas has given me, and step forward. My voice doesn’t waver as I speak, though inside, my nerves are buzzing.
“The trafficking stopped,” I say. “The brothels closed. We’re cleaning things up. More violence, more revenge—it’s not going to solve anything. What if, instead of endless war, we found a way to work together? To build something better?”
“Who made you boss?” he asks.
“She’s my queen,” Lucas says. “She speaks with my approval.”
There’s a moment of silence, the weight of my words hanging in the air. Peter’s eyes narrow slightly, as if he’s trying to figure me out, but then something shifts in his expression—a flicker of respect.
“You’re bold to invite me here,” he says, his tone measured. “You killed my boss.”
Jake, who has been standing quietly by Lucas’s side, steps forward. “Let’s settle this the way we used to,” he suggests, setting the chess pieces out on the board between them. “The way our fathers taught us.”
Peter’s gaze softens slightly as he looks at the board, and I can see the memories playing out in his mind.
The two men sit down, and the game begins. “Albrecht killed Lucas’s parents,” Jake says as they play. “Tried to kill Lucas many times, kidnapped his wife. He had to die, surely you know that.”
“He was my employer,” Peter replies.
“He’s gone. Honor yourself and your name. Join us.”
The room falls silent except for the soft click of the chess pieces as they move across the board. I stand by Lucas’s side, his arm around my waist, a silent show of support. This isn’t just about the game—it’s about trust, about finding a way to move forward without more bloodshed.
As the game progresses, I can see the tension in the room begin to ease, the animosity that once defined their relationship giving way to something else—something closer to respect. When Peter wins the game, there’s a moment of tense silence before he extends his hand to Jake.
“You play better than you used to,” he says, his voice firm but calm. “I’m too old to keep fighting. It’s time for a new era.”
Jake and Peter shake hands, the tension that has hung over this meeting finally dissipating. The two men begin to chat about the past, reminiscing about old times, and for the first time, I see the possibility of real peace.
Lucas pulls me closer, his voice soft in my ear. “You did well. I’m so proud of you.”
My husband and I step out onto the balcony, the cool evening air a welcome relief after the intensity of the showdown. The city sprawls out before us, the lights twinkling like stars, and for the first time in what feels like forever, I breathe easily, the weight of our uncertain future lifted from my shoulders.