Taming My Sugar Mommy
Chapter 77: Failed Gamble

Chapter 77: Failed Gamble

Christina worked methodically at the bent paperclip in the lock of her handcuffs, her movements precise despite the trembling in her fingers. The information she’d discovered about Sophia Martinez weighed heavily on her mind, but she kept it to herself for now. Uncertainty gnawed at her—was this truly the reason for Marcus’s betrayal, or was there more to the story? Until she knew for certain, sharing half-truths would only complicate their already desperate situation.

The lock clicked open, and Christina rubbed her chafed wrists, allowing herself a moment of satisfaction before turning her attention to the door. The guard outside had been making rounds every fifteen minutes—predictable, which meant exploitable.

As his footsteps receded down the hallway, Christina quickly fashioned a makeshift lock pick from the same paperclip and set to work on the door. Years of corporate espionage had taught her skills that her security firm officially denied teaching. Three minutes later, she slipped into the corridor.

Liam’s cell would be nearby—Richard wouldn’t risk separating them by too great a distance, given the limited number of guards at the compound. Christina moved silently, pressing herself against the wall at each intersection, listening for approaching footsteps.

She found Liam’s cell two doors down. Through the small window in the door, she could see him pacing, his expression taut with concentration. Unlike her, they’d left his hands free—a mistake born of underestimating him. Christina tapped softly on the glass.

Liam’s head snapped up, eyes widening as he recognized her. He moved to the door as she worked the lock.

"How did you—" he began as the door swung open.

"No time," Christina cut him off. "Isabella’s the priority. Richard’s staging that confession, and I doubt he plans to keep her alive once he has what he wants."

Liam nodded grimly. "Any idea where they’re keeping her?"

"Central monitoring showed a heavily guarded room in the east wing," Christina replied, already moving. "But we need to be smart about this. Two against however many of Richard’s men are here—those aren’t good odds."

"We don’t need good odds," Liam said, his voice hardening. "We just need a distraction."

They navigated the dimly lit corridors, Christina leading the way based on her mental map of the facility. Twice they ducked into empty rooms to avoid passing guards. As they neared the east wing, Christina motioned toward a utility closet.

"We need weapons," she whispered, picking the lock with practiced efficiency.

Inside, they found maintenance equipment and cleaning supplies. Liam grabbed a heavy wrench, testing its weight in his hand, while Christina selected a canister of industrial-strength cleaning agent.

"Improvised flash bomb," she explained when Liam raised an eyebrow. "Mix this with the bleach, throw it hard enough to break the canister—instant disorientation. Won’t last long, but should buy us a few seconds."

Liam nodded, impressed despite himself. "And people think corporate security is boring."

Christina allowed herself a tight smile. "You have no idea."

They continued toward the east wing, their impromptu plan taking shape with each step. Create a distraction, locate Isabella, get out. Simple in theory, nearly impossible in execution—but what choice did they have?

As they rounded the final corner, they froze. Two guards stood before a heavy metal door, assault rifles held casually but ready. Beyond them lay Isabella—and likely Richard.

Christina and Liam exchanged a glance, communicating silently. Christina held up the chemical canister, nodding toward the far end of the corridor. Liam understood immediately. He took the canister and crept away, disappearing around a corner.

Christina waited, counting seconds in her head. When she reached sixty, a loud crash echoed from the direction Liam had gone, followed by shouts of alarm. As expected, one of the guards moved to investigate, leaving a single man at the door.

Christina took a deep breath, then stepped into view, stumbling slightly as if disoriented.

"Help," she called weakly. "Something’s happening—some kind of gas—"

The guard raised his weapon, suspicious but uncertain. "Stop where you are!"

Christina took another step forward, then collapsed to her knees, coughing violently. The guard hesitated, then moved toward her, rifle still aimed at her head.

"What’s going on? Who are you?" he demanded.

Christina looked up, meeting his eyes. "I’m the distraction," she said simply.

Before the guard could react, Liam appeared behind him, bringing the wrench down with calculated force. The guard crumpled without a sound.

"Well done," Liam said, quickly relieving the unconscious man of his weapon.

"Don’t celebrate yet," Christina replied, taking the guard’s sidearm and communication device. "The other one will be back any second, and someone’s bound to notice we’re missing."

As if on cue, the radio crackled to life. "East door check in. Benson, do you copy? What was that noise?"

Christina and Liam exchanged alarmed glances. Their window was closing fast.

"We need to move now," Liam hissed, already approaching the door.

But before they could reach it, footsteps pounded down the corridor—the second guard returning, and not alone. Three armed men rounded the corner, weapons raised.

"Freeze! I don’t wanna kill you" one shouted.

Liam raised the assault rifle, pushing Christina behind him. "Stay back!"

The next few seconds unfolded in chaotic bursts. The guards opened fire. Liam returned it, his mi in his precise movements. Christina ducked behind a structural column, firing careful shots to keep the guards pinned down.

Amid the gunfire, a searing pain tore through Liam’s shoulder, spinning him half around. He stumbled but remained standing, blood quickly darkening his shirt.

"Liam!" Christina called out, her voice tight with fear.

"I’m fine," he grunted, though the paleness of his face suggested otherwise. "Keep moving."

More guards appeared, drawn by the gunfire. Christina realized with growing dread that they were outnumbered and outgunned. Their improvised plan was unraveling faster than they could adapt.

Then, the unexpected—the heavy metal door swung open, and Marcus stepped out, his expression unreadable as he surveyed the scene. For a heartbeat, everyone froze, the tableau momentarily suspended in time: Liam bleeding but defiant, Christina crouched in a defensive position, the guards with weapons trained on them both, and Marcus—the wild card—standing at the threshold of Isabella’s prison.

In that frozen moment, Liam and Marcus locked eyes—a silent exchange heavy with accusation, betrayal, and something more complex that neither man could fully articulate.

"Stand down," Marcus ordered the guards, his voice carrying an authority that brooked no argument.

The guards hesitated, weapons still raised.

"I said stand down," Marcus repeated coldly. "Richard wants them alive."

Slowly, reluctantly, the guards lowered their weapons. Christina watched in confusion, unsure whether this was a genuine reprieve or merely a prelude to something worse.

"Bring them in," Marcus continued, gesturing toward the room behind him. "Richard wants to speak with them."

Two guards moved forward, roughly disarming Liam and Christina. Liam winced as one deliberately pressed against his wounded shoulder, fresh blood seeping through his fingers as he clutched at the injury.

"This doesn’t seem so wise," Christina murmured to Liam as they were marched toward the door.

"I know," Liam replied through gritted teeth. "But at least we’ll be with Isabella."

As they entered the room, the scene that greeted them confirmed their worst fears. Isabella sat rigidly in a chair before a camera, her face pale but composed. Behind her stood Richard, a terrible smile playing at his lips as he watched them being brought in.

"Ah, the cavalry arrives," Richard said, his voice dripping with mock courtesy. "How touching. And what perfect timing—we’ve just finished recording Isabella’s confession. Perhaps you’d like to add your own testimonials about her criminal activities?"

Isabella’s eyes widened at the sight of Liam’s blood-soaked shoulder. "You’re hurt," she said, half-rising before a guard pushed her back into the chair.

"I’ve had worse," Liam replied, attempting a reassuring smile that twisted into a grimace of pain.

Richard circled them slowly, like a predator savoring the moment before the kill. "Family reunions are so moving, aren’t they, Marcus? Almost makes me wish I hadn’t destroyed mine." He paused, studying Liam with detached curiosity. "Tell me, Mr. Campbell, did you really think you and Ms. Chen here could stage a two-person rescue operation against a fully secured compound?"

"It wasn’t my best plan," Liam admitted, swaying slightly from blood loss. "But I’ve worked with worse odds."

Richard laughed, the sound devoid of genuine mirth. "I’m beginning to see why Isabella values you so highly. Loyalty, resourcefulness, and a remarkable pain threshold." He turned to Marcus. "What do you think, old friend? Should we test how far that loyalty extends?"

The tension in the room thickened. Marcus stood impassively, his expression carefully neutral despite the internal war Christina suspected was raging beneath the surface. She caught his eye briefly, trying to communicate her discovery about his daughter without words.

"What would you have me do?" Marcus asked Richard, his voice betraying nothing.

Richard’s eyes gleamed with malicious delight. "Let’s have a demonstration. A little test." He gestured to one of the guards, who handed Marcus a pistol. "Kill Mr. Campbell."

Isabella’s sharp intake of breath cut through the silence that followed. Christina felt her heart hammering against her ribs as Marcus accepted the weapon, his face still unreadable.

"This is unnecessary," Marcus said evenly. "We already have what we need."

"Humor me," Richard replied, his smile not reaching his eyes. "Consider it proof of your continued loyalty. After all, we wouldn’t want anyone questioning where your true allegiances lie, would we?"

Marcus raised the gun, pointing it directly at Liam’s chest. Liam straightened as much as his injured shoulder would allow, meeting Marcus’s gaze without flinching.

"If you’re going to do it," Liam said quietly, "at least have the decency to look me in the eye."

For several agonizing seconds, no one moved. The only sounds were the soft hum of the camera equipment and Liam’s labored breathing.

Then Marcus’s finger tightened on the trigger.

The shot never came. Instead, Marcus lowered the weapon slightly, his mask of indifference finally cracking.

"I can’t," he admitted, his voice barely audible. "Not like this."

Richard’s face darkened with fury. "Pathetic," he spat. "After everything we’ve discussed, after all I’ve done for you—for your daughter—this is how you repay me?"

At the mention of his daughter, Marcus flinched visibly. Christina saw her opening and took it.

"He knows," she said, her voice cutting through the tension. "Don’t you, Marcus? You know something’s not right about those videos of Sophia."

Richard’s head snapped toward her, eyes narrowing dangerously. "What is she talking about?" he demanded of Marcus.

"Nothing," Marcus replied too quickly. "She’s trying to distract us."

But doubt had taken root, visible in the slight tremor of his hand still holding the gun. Isabella, ever perceptive, seized on the moment.

"What videos?" she asked, her voice gentle despite her own precarious situation. "Marcus, You have a daughter?"

Richard stepped forward, his composure slipping further. "Enough of this," he snarled, reaching for the gun. "If you won’t do what needs to be done, I’ll—"

"No," Marcus said firmly, stepping back and raising the weapon once more—but this time, it was aimed at Richard. "First, you’re going to tell me the truth about Sophia. The real truth."

And in that moment of shifting allegiances, as four desperate people faced a man whose obsession had twisted into madness, the balance of power in the room changed irrevocably.

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