The CEO's Contract Bride

Chapter 13: Locker Forty-Seven

David's report came at dawn.

"We lost him." David's voice was grim over the phone. "He went into the Cross-Harbor Tunnel and never came out the other side. We found his car an hour ago."

"And?" Ethan was already dressing.

"Empty. Engine running. Driver's door open." A pause. "Sir, no one abandons a car like that unless they were taken."

Ethan looked at Ava, still asleep in their bed, one hand resting on her belly. His jaw tightened.

"They're cleaning up," he said quietly. "Faster than we can move."

Two hours later, Central Station.

Ethan had brought eight men. Plain clothes, earpieces, weapons concealed. The station's security chief — an old friend of David's — had cleared the left luggage area for ten minutes.

Ava had insisted on coming.

"Absolutely not," Ethan had said.

"That locker has my photograph in it." Ava's voice was steel. "My schedule. My medical records. Someone studied me like an animal, Ethan. I have a right to see it."

He'd argued for twenty minutes. She won.

Now they stood before locker forty-seven, a standard metal box in a row of hundreds. David's bomb specialist had already scanned it. Clean.

Ethan slid the brass key into the lock. His hand hesitated.

"Whatever's in here," he said to Ava, "we face it together."

"Together," she whispered.

He turned the key. The door swung open.

Inside: a large manila envelope, a cheap burner phone, and a folded piece of paper.

David photographed everything before touching it. Then, with gloved hands, he opened the envelope.

The first thing out was a photograph of Ava.

Not a posed picture. A candid shot — Ava shelving books at the bookstore, unaware of the camera. Paper-clipped to it: her work schedule, her bus route, a copy of her blood type from a three-year-old clinic visit, and a handwritten note: "Healthy. No family complications except mother (heart). Compliant personality. Ideal."

Ava stared at her own face. "They... they wrote 'compliant.' Like I'm a thing."

Ethan's arms went around her. "You're not a thing. You're my wife."

But his eyes were murderous.

David pulled out the second item: bank transfer records. Three payments, each larger than the last, wired from an account under the name "Heavenly Path Trading."

"Shell company," David said immediately. "I'll trace it."

The third item was the burner phone. Dead battery. David swapped in a fresh one from his kit and powered it on.

One message thread. One contact, saved only as "P."

David scrolled. His face grew darker with each message.

"Listen to this," he said. "From P, three months and one week ago: 'The girl works a catering shift at the Grand Hotel on the 14th. She'll be there. Make it happen that night.'"

"And the Broker's reply," David continued, "'Understood. Same method as before?'"

"P's answer: 'Exactly the same. She must not suspect. Neither must he.'"

Ava's hands shook. "They planned... everything."

"There's one more message," David said quietly. "From P, two months ago — after the pregnancy would have been confirmed. It says: 'The job is done. The Gu heir is coming. Await further instructions.'"

Silence filled the small concrete room.

"They wanted the baby," Ava whispered. "All along. It was never about Ethan and me. It was about... manufacturing an heir."

Ethan unfolded the last item — the Broker's handwritten note. The writing was rushed, terrified:

"If you're reading this, I'm probably dead. Phoenix pays well but doesn't forgive mistakes. I never saw their face. Voice on the phone was changed — electronic. But once, just once, the dead drop was early, and I saw the car drive away. Black. Government plates. That's all I know. I'm sorry. — B"

"Phoenix," Ethan repeated. "That's the codename?"

"Government plates," David muttered. "Sir, that's... that's a very short list of people."

Before Ethan could respond, his phone rang. The station's security chief.

"Mr. Gu, you need to see this. Camera twelve. Five minutes ago."

David pulled up the feed on his tablet. The timestamp showed 09:47 — while they were opening the locker. A woman in a red dress and sunglasses walked calmly through the main concourse, glancing once — directly — into the camera.

She was too far to identify. But she walked like someone who knew exactly where the cameras were.

"She was here," Ava breathed. "Watching us open it."

"She wanted us to know," Ethan said coldly. "This is a game to them." He turned to David. "Enhance that footage. I want her face, her height, everything. And check every camera in a two-block radius — I want to know where she went."

"Already on it, sir." David's fingers flew over his tablet. "But sir... if she knew about the locker, and knew when we'd open it —"

"Then someone told her." Ethan finished grimly. "We have a leak, David. Someone on our side is feeding them information." His eyes swept over the room — his own men, all trusted, all long-serving. "From this moment, no one outside this room knows what we found. No one."

David's own phone buzzed. He read the message, and his face changed completely.

"Sir. Heavenly Path Trading. I traced the registration."

"And?"

David looked up slowly. "Sir... the company is registered to an address inside your own building. The Gu Tower. Eighteenth floor."

Ethan went completely still.

"The enemy," he said quietly, "is inside my company."

Ava gripped his arm. "Ethan... the eighteenth floor. What's on the eighteenth floor?"

"Leased offices." Ethan's mind raced. "I don't manage the leases personally — that's the property division. Dozens of small companies rent there." His jaw tightened. "Someone has been sitting under my own roof, spending money to manufacture my heir, and I never knew."

David was already on his phone. "I'm pulling the full tenant list now. Every company on eighteen, every director name, every registration date. Give me one hour."

"Thirty minutes," Ethan said.

As David hurried off, Ava leaned against the cold metal lockers, her face pale. The morning's discoveries pressed down on her — the photograph, the word "compliant," the knowledge that strangers had studied her body, her blood, her life, the way a farmer studies livestock.

"Ava?" Ethan knelt in front of her. "Talk to me."

"I keep thinking..." Her voice was small. "If your grandfather hadn't chosen me three years ago — if I hadn't been in that bookstore, if my mother hadn't gotten sick — would they have picked someone else? Am I just... convenient?"

"No." Ethan took her face in his hands, forcing her to look at him. "Listen to me. Whoever these people are, whatever their plan was — they didn't create what we have. They put two people in a room. That's all." His thumb brushed away a tear. "Everything after that — the way I feel when you laugh, the way my heart stops when you're in danger, the way I can't sleep unless you're next to me — they didn't plan that. That's ours. No one manufactured it."

Ava searched his eyes. "Do you really believe that?"

"I've never been more sure of anything." He kissed her gently. "You are not their pawn, Ava Lin. You're my wife. And I chose you — every day, I choose you."

She wrapped her arms around his neck and held on tightly, as if he were the only solid thing in a tilting world.

"They studied you. They watched you. They used you." His arms tightened around her. "But they made one mistake, Ava."

"What?"

"They gave you to me." His eyes burned. "And now I'll burn their whole world down to keep you."