Taming My Sugar Mommy
Chapter 107: Liam confrontation with David

Chapter 107: Liam confrontation with David

Cold. That was Liam’s first conscious thought as awareness seeped back into his body. A bone-deep chill that made his muscles ache and his teeth want to chatter. The second realization came more slowly: the rigid discomfort of his posture, wrists bound behind him, shoulders strained against their sockets.

He kept his eyes closed, forcing his breathing to remain even as he assessed his situation. The air smelled different—not the hotel’s subtle blend of eucalyptus and citrus, but something colder, more sterile. Faint mechanical hums vibrated through whatever surface he was sitting on.

"I know you’re awake, Mr. Campbell."

David Harrison’s voice, closer than expected. Liam opened his eyes.

He was seated in a molded plastic chair in what appeared to be a glass-walled chamber, approximately fifteen feet square. Beyond the transparent walls stretched a larger space—industrial, with exposed ductwork and concrete pillars. Underground, Liam guessed, noting the absence of windows and the particular quality of the recirculated air.

David Harrison stood just inside the glass enclosure, watching him with the patient interest of a scientist observing a lab specimen. He’d removed his suit jacket, his crisp white shirt rolled up at the sleeves—a man preparing for serious work.

"Where’s Isabella?" Liam’s voice emerged as a rasp, his throat parched from whatever sedative they’d administered after the stun baton.

"Safe," David replied, circling Liam’s chair slowly. "For now. Which is more than I can say for you if this conversation doesn’t proceed productively."

Despite the implied threat, David’s tone remained conversational, almost cordial. That, more than anything, sent alarm bells ringing through Liam’s still-foggy mind. Men who felt the need to shout, to intimidate with volume and theatrics—they were predictable. But this calm, measured demeanor suggested something far more dangerous: absolute confidence.

"Nothing to say?" David asked, completing his circuit to stand directly in front of Liam. "No demands? No righteous protestations about how Isabella will never give you up?"

Liam maintained his silence, using the moment to catalog his surroundings. Two armed guards positioned outside the glass chamber. A bank of monitors on the far wall. A metal table with something that looked disturbingly like medical equipment.

"Very disciplined," David nodded, seeming genuinely impressed. "Isabella always did have excellent taste in personnel. Though her taste in lovers has proven... inconsistent."

He pulled up a second chair, positioning it directly across from Liam, their knees almost touching as he sat. The proximity was deliberate—an invasion of personal space designed to unsettle.

"I should thank you, actually," David continued, leaning slightly forward. "You’ve taken good care of my wife while I was... indisposed."

"Ex-wife," Liam corrected, unable to help himself.

A flicker of something—anger? amusement?—crossed David’s face before his expression settled back into its mask of cordial menace.

"A technicality," he dismissed with a wave of his hand. "Seven years is nothing in the context of what we built together."

"Seven years in federal prison seems like more than a technicality."

David’s smile tightened infinitesimally. "A temporary setback. One that Isabella could have prevented, had she chosen loyalty."

Liam fought to keep his expression neutral, though his mind raced. Isabella had never shared details about her marriage, deflecting questions with practiced ease whenever the topic arose. What had happened between them? What did David mean about preventing his arrest?

"You don’t know, do you?" David leaned back, genuine amusement now lighting his features. "She’s kept you in the dark. Her loyal attack dog, trotting faithfully at her heels without asking where the walk leads."

"I know enough," Liam replied, working subtly at the restraints behind his back. Zip ties—professionally applied, but not impossible to break with the right leverage and enough time.

"Do you?" David crossed one leg over the other, settling in like they were old friends catching up over drinks. "Do you know about Lazarus, Mr. Campbell?"

Something in David’s tone—a note of proprietary pride—made Liam freeze his efforts at the restraints. The file name from the drive. The project Isabella had been so cryptic about.

"I thought not," David nodded, reading Liam’s silence correctly. "Let me educate you. Lazarus was—is—my magnum opus. A system designed to infiltrate global financial networks, creating invisible throughlines between seemingly unrelated accounts. Banking, investments, real estate, commodities—all interconnected through protocols that regulatory systems can’t detect."

He spoke with the enthusiasm of a creator describing his greatest work, eyes bright with genuine passion.

"In simpler terms," David continued, "Lazarus allows for the construction of a shadow financial empire. Money flowing through legitimate channels but controlled by invisible hands. My hands."

Liam maintained his stoic expression, but his mind was whirring. This wasn’t just about drug trafficking or conventional criminal enterprise. This was something far more sophisticated.

"Isabella helped build it, you know," David added casually. "Her network architecture formed the backbone. She has a genius for creating systems that appear conventional while harboring extraordinary capabilities."

"She would never be part of something like that," Liam objected, the words escaping before he could stop them.

David’s laugh was soft, almost sympathetic. "My dear boy. Where do you think Ashworth Events Luxury came from? How do you imagine she built a global luxury brand from nothing in less than seven years? Her family money was substantial, yes, but not enough for what she accomplished."

He leaned forward again, voice dropping conspiratorially. "She used Lazarus. Took my creation while I rotted in prison and applied just enough of it to fuel her meteoric rise without triggering the full capabilities. Selective application. Very clever."

Liam fought to keep his breathing steady, to not show how David’s words had landed. Isabella had never fully explained the rapid expansion of her company, deflecting questions about her business acumen or lucky market timing.

"Why am I here?" Liam asked, changing tack. "If this is between you and Isabella, I’m nothing but an employee."

David’s smile was knife-sharp. "We both know that’s not true. You’re her confidant. Her right hand." A telling pause. "Her lover. More importantly, you have administrative access to Ashworth’s systems—access that Isabella guards jealously."

He stood, straightening his already impeccable shirt cuffs. "Besides, certain reliable sources inform me that you’ve been doing a bit of digging. Sending my photograph to friends with connections. Asking questions about my past. Very industrious of you."

A coldness that had nothing to do with the room temperature settled in Liam’s stomach. James. His old college roommate who worked in federal law enforcement. The photo he’d sent, asking for identification...

"You’re much more valuable than you realize, Mr. Campbell," David continued, walking to the glass wall and making a subtle gesture to someone outside. One of the guards approached, handing something through a small transfer portal. "You’re my leverage, certainly. But you’re also my potential ally."

He returned to stand before Liam, holding up a small black device with a distinctive red stripe—the drive.

"Isabella gave this to you for safekeeping. But did she tell you what it was? Did she explain that it contains not just Lazarus, but evidence of her complicity in its creation? Of financial maneuvers that would interest various regulatory bodies immensely?"

David turned the drive over in his fingers, examining it like a precious gem. "She trusted you with the physical object but not with the truth of what you were protecting. Typical Isabella—compartmentalizing, keeping everyone at arm’s length, feeding them only the information she deems necessary."

Liam’s jaw tightened. Isabella had been secretive about the drive, yes. But there had to be a reason. A explanation that made sense beyond David’s twisted narrative.

"I don’t have the access code," Liam said flatly. "If that’s what this is about."

"I’m aware," David replied, setting the drive on a small table beside them. "The full encryption is... formidable. Isabella was nothing if not thorough. But that’s not what I want from you."

He returned to his chair, expression shifting to something more serious, almost sincere. "What I want, Mr. Campbell, is an alliance. Your technical skills combined with your intimate knowledge of Isabella’s operation would be... valuable to me. In return, I offer you the truth—all of it, not the carefully curated version Isabella has fed you—and, of course, your continued good health."

"You want me to betray her," Liam translated, voice steady despite the growing dread in his chest.

"I want you to see clearly what kind of woman you’ve pledged your loyalty to," David corrected. "Isabella isn’t the victim in this story, Mr. Campbell. She’s a brilliant, ruthless operator who saw an opportunity when I went to prison and seized it with both hands. The woman you love has been using you, just as she’s used everyone in her life."

Liam maintained his silence, unwilling to give David the satisfaction of a response. But the words burrowed under his skin, attaching themselves to small doubts that had accumulated over the months—Isabella’s evasiveness about her past, the mysterious meetings she took without explanation, the compartments of her life she kept firmly closed to him despite their intimacy.

David seemed to read his thoughts, offering a smile that contained a fraction of genuine sympathy. "It’s a bitter pill, I know. I’ve been where you are—believing in Isabella Ashworth’s carefully constructed persona. The devoted partner. The ethical businesswoman. The woman who needs protecting."

He stood again, straightening his posture. "I’ll give you time to consider my offer. When I return, I hope you’ll be ready for a more productive conversation."

David moved toward the glass door, pausing with his hand on the mechanism. "You’ll change your mind, Liam. People always do..." His eyes held Liam’s, a predator’s gaze, confident and cold. "...when I show them how much she’s lied."

The glass door sealed with a pneumatic hiss, leaving Liam alone in the sterile chamber. The drive sat on the table just beyond his reach—tantalizing in its proximity, useless without the code, damning in its implications.

Isabella had never mentioned its existence until two days ago, pressing it into his palm with urgent instructions to keep it safe. "It’s everything," she’d whispered. "The key to it all."

But the key to what? A legitimate business backup, as she’d implied? Or evidence of the shadow empire David had described? And if David was telling the truth about Isabella’s involvement in Lazarus—about her using portions of it to build her company...

Liam closed his eyes, head throbbing with competing narratives. The Isabella he knew—brilliant, private, sometimes distant but fundamentally decent—seemed irreconcilable with David’s portrayal of a calculating opportunist.

And yet...

He twisted his wrists against the restraints, feeling the plastic bite into his skin. Whatever the truth, he needed to get out of here. He needed to find Isabella. He needed answers that weren’t filtered through David Harrison’s agenda.

Beyond the glass walls, figures moved with purposeful efficiency, preparing for whatever came next. The drive gleamed under the harsh lights, its secrets locked away behind encryption that apparently even David Harrison couldn’t break.

Liam’s lips tightened into a grim line. One way or another, he was going to discover the truth—about Isabella, about Lazarus, about the tangled web he’d unwittingly stepped into when he’d accepted the position as Isabella Ashworth’s assistant all those months ago.

But first, he had to survive what David had planned for him.