Landon My Killer Lover by Trickology

The first time I confronted my lover's mistress, it cost me everything. I gave him eight years, built his empire brick by brick, and was secretly carrying his child.

But for a fragile art student, he had me delivered into a waking nightmare.

I was conscious as a shadow fell over me. A cold finality washed through me, and the faint, fluttering warmth I had cherished within myself simply... vanished. The world that had been two became one again, leaving behind an eternal, hollow silence.

"Anything that threatens her, I will destroy," he whispered, his voice void of all emotion. "Even you. Even our child."

He then turned his back on me, leaving me to the cold watch of his men, a queen he was willing to sacrifice for a pretty new pawn. My last thought was that I was just a queen he was willing to sacrifice for a pretty new pawn.

But then my eyes snapped open.

I was in my car, my stomach flat, my hands gripping the steering wheel. The date on my phone seared itself into my brain. I was back on the day of the first confrontation.

This time, I wouldn't be a sacrifice. This time, I would survive.

Chapter 1

Alana Casey POV:

The first time I confronted Eliana Harrington, my lover-the father of my unborn child-ensured I would never do so again.

Eight years. I gave Conrad Jensen eight years of my life. We built this empire together, brick by brick. My hands are just as stained as his. I was his strategist, his enforcer, his other half. I had once shielded him from a fatal attack, literally. The faint, silvery scar above my collarbone was a permanent reminder of the night I'd thrown myself in front of him in a deal gone wrong. We were a team. A unit. A force.

Then came the scent of lilies and watercolor paint clinging to his clothes.

It was subtle at first. A scent so out of place in our world of gunpowder, expensive cologne, and sterile cash that it was like a siren. He started coming home later. His phone, once left carelessly on the nightstand, was now always in his pocket, screen down. He'd smile at me, but the smile never reached his ice-blue eyes. Those eyes, which used to burn with a fire only I could stoke, were now distant, looking at something-or someone-else.

My suspicions grew, and it wasn't long before I saw her for myself. Eliana Harrington. An art student. All wide, innocent eyes and a fragile frame that looked like a strong gust of wind could snap her in two. The photos made my stomach clench. She was everything I wasn't. Soft. Pure. Untainted by the filth we lived in.

My second-in-command, Marcus, confirmed my fears. "He's set her up in a penthouse downtown, boss. Pays her tuition, sends her flowers every day. The whole nine yards."

He didn't need to say more. Conrad had never sent me flowers. We dealt in ledgers and ammunition, not roses. The penthouse was one of our syndicate's secure properties, a place I myself had cleared for high-value assets. To know he was keeping her there, in our world, under my nose... it was a betrayal that tasted like acid.

So I did what I knew how to do. I moved to handle the problem.

I arranged a meeting at one of our warehouses. When she arrived, she looked like a scared little girl. But I knew better. She was a complication, and I was the solution.

That's when Conrad burst in, his face a mask of fury I'd only ever seen him direct at our enemies. He didn't even look at me. His eyes were locked on her, his fragile Eliana. He moved to her side with a gentleness that made my blood run cold.

Then, he turned to me. His words were a physical blow, so sharp my ear rang with the shock of them.

"Don't you ever touch her again," he snarled, his voice a low, dangerous rumble. He held the crying girl against his chest, stroking her hair. "She's different."

The words hung in the air, a death sentence for everything we had built.

I didn't listen. I was eight months pregnant with his child, a secret I was waiting to reveal on the anniversary of our partnership. I thought it would bind us, bring us back. I thought it would make him see that I was his future, not her.

I was wrong.

This time, when I went after Eliana, Conrad was ready. He didn't just get angry. He smiled. It was the coldest smile I had ever seen. He praised me for my initiative, told me I did the right thing by bringing a potential problem to his attention. He poured me a glass of water himself.

A sudden, cloying weakness washed over me.

I awoke in that same warehouse, a profound sense of dread washing over me. A man in shadows stood nearby, an instrument glinting under the dim light. Conrad was there, holding Eliana's hand, watching. Tears streamed down my face as a cold finality settled in my soul, an irreversible severing. I felt a profound emptiness where our child had been. A memory of a faint, fragile warmth flickered and then went out.