Chapter 3 A Dangerous Deal

# Chapter 3: A Dangerous Deal

Morning light streamed through the penthouse windows, casting long shadows across Phil Tyler's minimalist living room. Tracy sat perched on the edge of a leather sofa, a cup of untouched coffee cooling on the glass table before her. She had spent the night in one of Phil's guest rooms, too shell-shocked by the revelations about Lillian to consider leaving.

"You look terrible," Phil observed, emerging from his bedroom in a perfectly tailored navy suit. "Didn't sleep?"

Tracy glared at him. "Would you, after discovering your adoptive father was murdered by the woman who stole your identity?"

Phil conceded the point with a slight nod. He moved to the kitchen island, pouring himself an espresso from a machine that probably cost more than most people's monthly rent.

"So what's your grand plan?" Tracy asked. "You showed me evidence that Lillian is a murderer with cartel connections. What exactly do you expect me to do with that information?"

Phil took a deliberate sip of his espresso before answering. "I need you to become my fiancée."

Tracy nearly choked. "Excuse me?"

"Not my real fiancée," Phil clarified, his tone suggesting she was being deliberately obtuse. "I need you to pretend to be engaged to me."

"And what about your actual engagement to Lillian? The one splashed across every society page in New York?"

Phil set down his cup with a decisive click. "That's the point. I'm going to break it off with Lillian and announce my engagement to you instead."

Tracy stared at him, convinced he had lost his mind. "That's your plan? To publicly humiliate the daughter of a drug cartel? The woman who already murdered once when she felt threatened?"

"It's not just about humiliation," Phil replied, moving to sit across from her. His blue eyes were sharp with intelligence and something darker. "It's about drawing her into the open. Making her sloppy. Right now, she's calculating every move, hiding her true nature behind the Todd name and fortune. We need to force her to make mistakes."

"And you think jealousy will do that?"

"Jealousy, yes. But more importantly, fear. Think about it—you're the one person who threatens her entire identity. If you suddenly reappear on the arm of her fiancé, with access to the same social circles she's trying to dominate..."

Tracy could see the logic, even as she recoiled from the risk. "She'll try to eliminate me. Just like she did with Harold."

"But this time, we'll be ready. We'll be gathering evidence of every move she makes. And at the engagement party—"

"Wait," Tracy interrupted. "What engagement party?"

"Our engagement party," Phil said, as if it were obvious. "The one where you'll reveal Lillian for who she truly is, with irrefutable evidence that even Eleanor won't be able to ignore."

Tracy stood up, pacing the length of the vast living room. Through the floor-to-ceiling windows, Manhattan spread out below like a scale model, people and cars reduced to tiny moving dots. Her entire world had shrunk to this bizarre proposal from a man she barely knew.

"This is insane," she muttered. "You want me to pretend to be engaged to you, provoke a murderer with cartel connections, and somehow gather evidence against her? I'm not a spy or a detective. Until a week ago, I was a college student whose biggest concern was my art history final."

Phil watched her with unnerving intensity. "You're also the woman who broke into my supposedly impenetrable penthouse last night. Don't underestimate yourself, Tracy."

She turned to face him. "Why me? Why not go to the police with what you have?"

"The police?" Phil scoffed. "With what evidence? Some security footage that shows Lillian leaving a building before a fire that was officially ruled an accident? Photographs that show her meeting with men who, on paper, are legitimate businessmen? The Todds have half the NYPD in their pocket, and the cartel has the other half terrified."

Tracy knew he was right. The wealthy played by different rules—she had benefitted from that reality her entire life. Until now.

"There's something else you're not telling me," she said slowly. "Some reason this is personal for you. Why do you care so much about bringing down Lillian?"

A shadow passed over Phil's face. "Let's just say I have my reasons."

"Not good enough," Tracy crossed her arms. "If you want me to risk my life in this scheme, I need the whole truth."

Phil's jaw tightened, a muscle twitching beneath the smooth skin. For a moment, Tracy thought he might refuse. Then he stood and walked to a sleek console table, pulling open a drawer to retrieve a manila folder.

"Three years ago," he began, his voice carefully controlled, "my younger sister, Emma, attended a party hosted by the South American trade delegation. She met a charming businessman there—Alejandro Vega."

He handed Tracy the folder. Inside were newspaper clippings about a young woman's fatal drug overdose, alongside photographs of a pretty blonde girl with Phil's blue eyes.

"Alejandro introduced Emma to cocaine that night. Six months later, she was hooked on something much stronger. When she couldn't pay her debts, they found other ways for her to be useful." His voice hardened. "She died of an overdose in a hotel room where she'd been sent to entertain a business associate."

Tracy looked up from the heartbreaking photos. "I'm sorry. But what does this have to do with Lillian?"

"Alejandro Vega is Lillian's uncle. Her mother's brother. He runs the North American distribution for the Vega cartel." Phil took the folder back, his movements precise and controlled. "When I started investigating Emma's death, I discovered the cartel connection. And when I dug deeper into the Vega family, I found a very interesting birth certificate for one Lillian Vega, born to Carmen Vega twenty-six years ago in Bogotá."

Tracy's mind raced. "Lillian is twenty-six? But I'm only twenty-four."

"Exactly," Phil said grimly. "Whatever happened twenty years ago, it wasn't a simple hospital mix-up of two newborns. Lillian was already six years old when she disappeared from Colombia. And somehow, she ended up as your replacement in the Todd family."

The implications were staggering. Tracy sank back onto the sofa, trying to process this new information. "So this isn't just about revenge for your sister. You're trying to bring down an entire cartel."

"The cartel, yes. But Lillian specifically." Phil's eyes were cold. "She was there the night Emma died. She watched and did nothing."

A heavy silence fell between them. Tracy understood now why Phil was so determined, why he was willing to take such risks. His motivation wasn't money or power—it was justice for his sister.

"If I agree to this," Tracy said finally, "what exactly would it involve?"

Phil seemed to relax slightly, sensing her wavering resolve. "You move in here. We announce our engagement. You accompany me to social events where Lillian will be present. We provoke her into action, record everything, and build an airtight case."

"And when it's over? What happens to me?"

"You'll be compensated generously. Enough to start a new life wherever you want."

Tracy laughed bitterly. "Money? You think this is about money for me?"

"What is it about then?" Phil asked, genuinely curious.

"It's about finding out who I really am!" Tracy exclaimed. "It's about justice for Harold, who might have been cold and distant but didn't deserve to be murdered. It's about making sure Eleanor knows the truth about the woman she's embraced as her daughter."

Phil studied her for a long moment. "Then our goals align, even if our motivations differ." He extended his hand. "Do we have a deal?"

Tracy hesitated. "There are conditions. First, I want access to all the information you have—about Lillian, about the Todds, about whatever happened twenty years ago. No more selective revelations."

"Done."

"Second, I want your word that you'll help me discover my real identity. Where I came from, who my biological parents are."

Phil nodded. "I've already started that investigation. You'll have everything I find."

"And third," Tracy added, "this isn't just your revenge plot. We're partners. Equal partners. I won't be your puppet or your pawn."

A flicker of respect passed through Phil's eyes. "Agreed. Partners."

Tracy took a deep breath and shook his hand. "Then we have a deal."

Phil's grip was warm and firm, his eyes locked on hers with an intensity that made her pulse quicken. "Perfect. Now, let's discuss how to transform you from disgraced ex-heiress to my glamorous new fiancée."

He released her hand and walked to a closet, retrieving a leather-bound notebook. "You'll need a complete makeover—new wardrobe, new hairstyle, new public persona. The story will be that we've been secretly dating for months, ever since I met you at that charity gala in February."

Tracy frowned. "But you were already seeing Lillian then."

"Exactly," Phil said with a wolfish grin. "Nothing will infuriate her more than thinking I was pursuing you behind her back all along."

"This is getting complicated," Tracy murmured.

"It gets better," Phil continued. "You'll need to learn how to behave like my fiancée in public. How I take my coffee, my favorite restaurants, personal details that only someone intimate would know."

Tracy raised an eyebrow. "Isn't that a bit excessive?"

"Lillian will be watching for any slip that proves we're faking. We can't give her that ammunition."

He flipped open the notebook. "We'll start with the basics. Social etiquette, fine dining, wine knowledge—"

"I grew up as a Todd," Tracy interrupted. "I know which fork to use."

Phil gave her an appraising look. "Yes, but you need to know which fork I prefer. And how I like my steak. And that I'm allergic to shellfish but will eat it anyway if the chef is famous enough."

Tracy rolled her eyes. "This sounds more like training a girlfriend than setting up a fake engagement."

"The more authentic we appear, the more it will drive Lillian to desperation." Phil closed the notebook with a decisive snap. "We have three weeks until the Metropolitan Museum Gala, where we'll make our first public appearance together. That gives us time for your... education."

There was something in the way he said "education" that made Tracy's skin prickle. "What kind of education?"

Phil's mouth curved into a smile that was both charming and dangerous. "The kind that will make Lillian believe you've completely stolen my heart." He moved closer, invading her personal space. "The kind that will make everyone in New York society believe that I'm utterly besotted with you."

Tracy backed away, uncomfortable with his proximity. "I can act the part without getting that... involved."

Phil shook his head. "Lillian is watching my every move. She has people following me, reporting back to her. We need to be convincing at all times."

"Fine," Tracy conceded. "But there are boundaries."

"Of course," Phil agreed, though his eyes suggested he didn't take her objection seriously. "Now, let's address your appearance. That black cat burglar look was striking last night, but we'll need something more sophisticated for your public debut."

He pressed a button on a remote, and a hidden panel in the wall slid open to reveal a walk-in closet. "I took the liberty of having some options delivered this morning. Consider it the beginning of your transformation."

Tracy peered into the closet, where dozens of designer garments hung in perfect rows, price tags still attached. Shoes, handbags, and jewelry were arranged on illuminated shelves.

"This must have cost a fortune," she murmured.

"A worthwhile investment," Phil replied. "Besides, nothing says 'I'm serious about my new fiancée' like a platinum credit card pushed to its limit."

Tracy turned to face him. "You've thought of everything, haven't you?"

"Not everything," Phil admitted. "Lillian is dangerous and unpredictable. This plan has risks."

"Like me ending up dead, like Harold?" Tracy asked bluntly.

Phil's expression hardened. "That won't happen. You'll have security with you at all times, even when you don't see them. I protect what's mine."

"I'm not yours," Tracy reminded him. "This is a business arrangement."

"For now," Phil agreed. "But to the world, you belong to me completely. And I to you."

He reached out suddenly, his fingers brushing her cheek in a gesture that seemed almost tender. Tracy froze, caught off guard by the unexpected contact.

"You need to get used to my touch," he explained, his voice low. "If you flinch like that in public, no one will believe we're in love."

Tracy forced herself to remain still as his hand moved to her neck, his thumb tracing her jawline. "Is this part of my education?"

"Lesson one," Phil confirmed, his eyes never leaving hers. "Convincing physical chemistry."

His hand slid to the back of her neck, fingers tangling in her hair. For one heart-stopping moment, Tracy thought he might kiss her. Instead, he tightened his grip slightly, his expression turning clinical.

"Wrong," he said. "You're too tense. Your eyes show fear, not desire. If I were Lillian watching us right now, I'd know immediately this was fake."

He released her abruptly. "We have work to do."

Tracy let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. "You could have warned me."

"Enemies don't give warnings," Phil said simply. "And make no mistake—Lillian is our enemy. She'll be watching for any sign of weakness, any indication that our relationship isn't real."

He walked to the window, looking out over the city with his back to her. "The stakes are clear, Tracy. If we fail, best case scenario, you remain a nobody, cast out from your former life. Worst case, you end up like Harold—or my sister."

Tracy swallowed hard. She had agreed to this dangerous game, and now there was no turning back.

"When do we start?" she asked.

Phil turned, his expression resolute. "We already have. From this moment forward, you're no longer Tracy Todd, disgraced ex-heiress. You're Tracy, the woman who captured the heart of New York's most eligible bachelor. The woman who stole Phil Tyler from under Lillian Todd's nose."

He extended his hand to her once more, but this time it wasn't for a handshake. It was an invitation to step into the role that might save her life—or end it.

"Ready for lesson two?" he asked.

Tracy took his hand, sealing her fate. "Ready."