The Bait and the Flame

It had never been accidental. Not at the beginning.

Gina had found Dave Lansing by design.

He was the weak link in a world Gina planned to burn to the ground — the youngest son of Richard Lansing, the same man who had orchestrated the brutal collapse of her childhood.

She had chosen him. Targeted him. Studied his music, his habits, the charity events he frequented, the lonely shadows he often stood in.

What she hadn't expected was the sweetness. The soul. The vulnerability he never showed in public but wore around her like an open wound.

Falling in love was never part of the plan.

But it happened — in soft beds, whispered nights, in the first time he told her she made him feel like a home.

And when she realized she was pregnant, Gina did what she had to do.

She vanished.

Not out of cowardice, but out of survival. Richard Lansing's reach was too long, his network too wide. If he discovered she carried a Lansing heir, he would use the child like a pawn. Like she had once been used. Gina would die before she let that happen.

So she ran.

Built an empire from shadows. Used old names, silent partners, black-market alliances. By the time her daughter was born, Gina had more power than Richard could ever imagine — and more secrets than Dave could ever handle.

She told herself she would never look back.

But ten years later, when her network traced Richard's renewed movement—whispers of deals, pressure against old enemies—Gina returned.

She had told herself it was strategy.

But it was love.

Seeing Dave again had unraveled threads she thought long dead. And now, as she watched him play with their daughter, she realized she had reentered the fire she once escaped.

Willingly.

The bait had become the burning.

And Richard Lansing didn't even know he was already surrounded.