My Rival Paid to Have Me Dead

The champagne flute shattered against the marble floor, its crystal shards reflecting the chaos erupting around us. One moment we were laughing, toasting to our future—mine and Xander's—and the next, men in black masks were storming through the Hamptons estate's grand ballroom.

"Everyone stay calm!" Xander's voice cut through the screams, his military training taking over even in his tailored tuxedo. But the kidnappers didn't care about calm. They moved with precision, like wolves targeting specific prey.

I clutched my pearl necklace, the rehearsal dinner for our wedding tomorrow becoming a nightmare. The room spun as armed men disguised as catering staff separated the guests. I caught a glimpse of my father's face—pale with shock—before a rough hand grabbed my arm.

"Let her go!" I heard someone shout, but it was too late.

"Lilia Powell and Celine Cruz," a masked man announced, his voice muffled behind his ski mask. "We only need two."

Celine? My stomach twisted. Of all people, they'd chosen the daughter of Senator Cruz—Xander's friend and my... rival, though I'd never admitted it aloud.

"Take me instead!" Xander lunged forward, but a gun pressed against his temple forced him back.

Everything blurred as they dragged us out through the service entrance. The night air hit my face, damp with sea spray from the nearby ocean. I stumbled in my heels as they shoved me toward a waiting van.

"Xander!" I screamed, reaching back toward him. Our eyes met for a split second—his filled with a promise I would later learn was empty.

* * *

The warehouse reeked of rust and saltwater. They'd separated Celine and me into different rooms, the concrete walls echoing with our captors' voices.

"Five minutes, Armstrong," the leader announced, his voice crackling through a speaker. "Two rooms, two bombs. Save one, lose one. Choose wisely."

My heart pounded against my ribs. They'd brought Xander here too? The door to my room was solid metal, a small window revealing nothing but darkness outside.

"Please," I whispered, pressing my palms against the cold surface. "Xander, please."

I heard shouting from somewhere down the hall—Celine's voice, high and hysterical.

"Xander! Help me! I'm scared!"

Then silence. The kind of silence that makes your skin crawl.

When the door finally burst open, I wasn't prepared for what I saw. Xander stood there, his face streaked with sweat, eyes wild with something I couldn't identify.

"Lilia," he breathed, but he wasn't looking at me anymore. He was staring at something—someone—behind me.

I turned to see a masked figure raising a gun. Without thinking, I lunged forward.

"Xander, watch out!"

The gunshot was deafening in the enclosed space. I felt a searing pain in my shoulder, hot blood soaking through my silk dress. Time slowed as I realized Xander had fired—not at our captor, but at me.

His eyes widened in horror as I crumpled to the floor.

"No! Lilia!" His voice sounded distant despite his proximity. "I thought—I saw a weapon—"

Darkness crept into the edges of my vision as more gunfire erupted around us. The last thing I saw was Xander's face, twisted with anguish as he shouted orders to his extraction team.

* * *

The hospital room smelled of antiseptic and defeat. I woke to the steady beep of monitors and the weight of bandages on my shoulder. The pain was dull now, numbed by whatever dripped from the IV bag into my veins.

I expected to see Xander beside my bed. Instead, Victoria Armstrong's perfectly coiffed silver hair and ice-cold blue eyes greeted me.

"Lilia, dear," she said, her voice as smooth as polished marble. "You're awake."

"Where's Xander?" My throat was raw, my voice barely a whisper.

Victoria's lips thinned into what might have been a smile on anyone else. "Busy with damage control."

She pulled a chair close to my bed, her Chanel suit immaculate despite the early hour. No trace of concern for her son's fiancée marred her perfect makeup.

"You need to understand something, Lilia," she continued, leaning forward. "What happened at that warehouse... it never happened."

I stared at her, uncomprehending.

"The press will be told it was a random kidnapping attempt. Nothing more." Her manicured nails tapped against her purse. "And certain... details... must remain private."

"Details?" I echoed, my mind still foggy from medication.

"Who Xander chose to save first." Her gaze was unflinching. "And the unfortunate... friendly fire incident."

The truth hit me like another bullet. "He chose Celine."

"It was a tactical decision," Victoria replied dismissively. "One that will benefit the Armstrong-Cruz alliance greatly."

"And me?" I whispered.

Victoria's smile didn't reach her eyes. "You, Lilia, are now a political liability."

She stood, smoothing her already perfect skirt. "The doctors say you'll recover physically. Your shoulder will heal. But I suggest you recover quietly... and far from New York."

As she walked toward the door, she paused, glancing back at me with something almost like pity. "Oh, and Lilia? Xander needs the Cruz family's support now more than ever. Senator Cruz has already offered his backing for Xander's political future."

The door closed behind her with a soft click that echoed in my chest like a gunshot.