“We owed a lot of money,” Vincent finally admitted, his voice stripped of all warmth and pretense. “Not to him—to his crime boss.” Emma stared at him, the noise of the church fading into a dull roar in her ears. “Owed money for what?” Daniel swallowed hard, his eyes darting to the box then away again. “We seized a huge haul last year. High-value contraband. It was supposed to go straight into police evidence lockup.”
Emma’s chest tightened with dread. “Supposed to.” The man smirked coldly. “Instead, they cut a deal. I return the stolen goods, and their massive debt gets wiped clean.” Emma stared at the box again. It wasn’t a wedding gift. It was stolen police evidence, sealed and logged, meant to stay locked away forever.
