Chapter 1

I stood by Asher Pierce for ten long years. Everyone in New York called me "Lady Jill" with bowed heads and trembling respect.

Everyone knew Asher loved me down to his bones. Yet in all those years, he never once mentioned marriage.

Until my birthday this year, when his right-hand man rushed in, breathless with excitement:

"Lady Jill, the Boss ordered a ring behind your back. He’s proposing tonight!"

I sat alone in the dark until dawn broke. But what arrived wasn't a diamond ring—it was the front page of the New York tabloids:

[Shipping Tycoon Asher Pierce Nights with Heiress Chloe Belmont: A $30 Million Pink Diamond to Seal the Deal]

In the photo, Chloe was curled into Asher’s arms, smiling like an angel.

That blinding pink diamond on her finger was worth enough to buy back the three hundred innocent girls she had trafficked into international waters.

The tabloids mocked me between the lines, calling me a nameless shadow, a fool who wasted ten years of love on a criminal who tossed her aside.

I didn’t lose my temper.

I just quietly loaded my magazine with cold, heavy bullets.

Badge number: 12138. I was the deepest undercover plant the NYPD had ever buried in this city.

I knew Asher would protect her.

But my heart belonged to more than just him. It belonged to justice.

The cigarette burned down to my fingertips. The ashtray on the marble table had already piled into a tiny grave, beside the quiet newspaper.

I stubbed it out and stood up, ready to confront him.

Hurried footsteps echoed from the foyer.

Asher had beaten me to it.

He didn't even bother kicking off his shoes. He stormed straight up to me, his dark eyes blazing with fury:

"Jill, are you out of your damn mind? Why are you having people tail Chloe?"

Such a harsh tone.

Maybe he had spoiled me too much over the past ten years. Just the sharp edge in his voice made an unexpected surge of hurt prick my eyes.

I didn't answer his question. Instead, I calmly tapped another cigarette from the pack.

I inhaled the nicotine deep into my lungs to numb the bitter ache in my chest before I spoke.

"Just curious."

"I wanted to see what kind of woman could make you throw away ten years of us."

Asher flinched, as if slapped.

He looked away, his sharp edges softening into exhausted defeat.

"Jill. It’s been ten years. I’m just so damn tired."

"I know how capable you are. You’re ruthless, fearless—the perfect queen for this city. But I’m just a man."

"Chloe isn't like that. She doesn't have your power. She's just sweet, simple, waiting up to make me a warm bowl of soup when I come home. With her, I can breathe outside the bloodshed. Can't you... just look the other way? Just let me rest."

I stared at him in silence as he stood there, praising another woman with that tender, longing voice.

Every syllable was a dull blade sawing through my flesh.

It hurt worse than the three bullet wounds I took for him years ago in an alley in Hell's Kitchen.

I picked up the manila folder I had prepared and tossed it onto the coffee table.

"Asher, the Belmont family isn't as clean as you think. And Chloe is far from the sweet, innocent heiress you see."

"Look for yourself."

Asher’s brows furrowed tight.

Without even glancing at the folder, he shoved it away in irritation.

The envelope spilled open. Surveillance photos scattered across the floor, showing Chloe in private corners of galas, whispering with Southeast Asian human-trafficking kingpins.

"Jill, what more do you want from me? I’m already trying to make it up to you!"

"Every kingpin in this city has a dozen mistresses on his arm. I’m the only one who stayed faithful to one woman for ten years! Now there’s just Chloe, and you won’t stop digging into her, suffocating me!"

"If you have such a hard-on for justice, why didn't you just become a cop?!"

Asher roared, completely out of patience.

He spun on his heel and stormed out, nearly knocking over Sammy, his lieutenant who was rushing inside.

Sammy stood frozen for a second, then quietly walked over to pick up the scattered mess.

He kept his head down, offering a cautious murmur:

"Lady Jill, the Boss is just distracted by something shiny. You..."

"Samuel Morales. Badge 89757. Detective, NYPD Manhattan North."

I cut him off cold, reciting his credentials without missing a beat.

Sammy’s body went completely rigid.

His hand instinctively twitched toward the Glock tucked at his lower back. His face froze in terror, a nervous grin cracking his lips:

"Ma'am, the heartbreak is making you hallucinate. Me? A cop? You're kidding..."

"Badge 12138. Detective Inspector, NYPD. Direct orders from Deputy Chief to link up with you. The Belmont operation is hitting a wall, isn't it?"

Sammy stood dead in his tracks.

Within seconds, the slippery facade of a street thug vanished. His gaze sharpened into that of a seasoned operative:

"Yes. It's bad. The Belmonts are tied in with corrupt foreign officials, which stalls federal interference. Our only shot is cracking them open from inside New York."

"But Pierce has been shielding Chloe day and night. We can't lay a finger on her."

I nodded quietly.

My existence was classified at the highest level.

Unless the sky fell, I was to remain buried, never activated.

"I have a plan, and I need your help. Chloe’s been trying to recruit you behind Asher’s back, right? Take the bait."

"Then find the right moment, and let her kill me."

"Asher will tear her apart."

Sammy stared at me, his eyes wide in absolute disbelief:

"Ma'am... you can't be serious..."

My voice was chillingly calm:

"Samuel, for ten whole years, I’ve played the mob boss's lady."

"Kill me. That is an order."