Chapter 9
The next day, Liam came for Clara.
I was in a board meeting, sitting in my wheelchair at the head of the table, pretending to listen while they talked about quarterly profits. Marcus burst in, his face white, and whispered in my ear.
“Liam took three men to the cottage,” he said. “They’re armed. The guards are holding them off, but they won’t last long.”
I stood up, knocking the chair over. The board members gasped, staring at me like I’d grown a second head.
“Meeting’s over,” I said. “James, you’re with me. Marcus, bring the security team. Now.”
We ran to the cars, sirens blaring as we raced across the property. My heart was pounding so hard I could hear it in my ears. If they hurt her, I’d kill Liam with my bare hands. I didn’t care about the company, didn’t care about the gala, didn’t care about anything but her.
We skidded to a stop in front of the cottage ten minutes later.
Two of my guards were on the ground, bleeding. Liam and his men were trying to kick the front door in, shouting and cursing.
“Liam!” I yelled.
He turned, his face going white when he saw me standing there, no wheelchair, no blanket, just me, tall and angry and very much not paralyzed.
“Ethan,” he said. “You… you can walk.”
“Surprise,” I said.
I walked toward him, fast. He pulled a gun, but Marcus was faster, tackling him to the ground before he could fire. The other two men tried to run, but my security team caught them, slamming them against the side of the car.
I kicked the front door of the cottage open.
Clara was huddled in the corner of the living room, holding a kitchen knife, her face white. When she saw me, she dropped the knife and ran into my arms, crying.
“I thought they were going to kill me,” she said, her face buried in my chest.
I held her tight, kissing the top of her head. “I’m here. I’ve got you. You’re safe now.”
Marcus came in, dragging Liam by the arms. Liam was struggling, shouting curses.
“You’ll pay for this, Ethan!” he yelled. “Vanessa will kill you! She’ll burn everything you love to the ground!”
I turned to him, my voice cold as ice.
“Take him to the west wing,” I said to Marcus. “Lock him in the old safe room. No phone, no visitors. He stays there until the gala. And call the police. Tell them we have three armed men who tried to break in and assault a member of my staff. They can take them away.”
Marcus dragged Liam out, still shouting.
I turned back to Clara, brushing the hair out of her face. Her hands were still shaking, her eyes wide with fear.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I should have gotten here sooner. I should have protected you better.”
She shook her head, touching my face. “You came. That’s all that matters. You can walk. Oh, Ethan, you can walk.”
She laughed through her tears, and I laughed too, holding her tighter. For a second, everything felt okay.
Then James ran in, his phone in his hand, his face white.
“Vanessa just left the house,” he said. “She’s heading to the airport. She has a private plane waiting. She’s going to run.”
May you like
I let go of Clara, my jaw tightening.
“Not if I can help it,” I said. “Marcus! Get the helicopter. We’re going to the airport.”
