Chapter 6
844words
When I finally came to, I found myself on a bare, simple bed.
The small room reeked of mildew and antiseptic.
Dawn light filtered through the window.
"You're awake?"
A hoarse voice broke the silence.
I turned to see Ethan slumped in a chair beside me, his face haggard and eyes bloodshot.
Thick bandages wrapped his arm, spotted with seeping blood.
"Where…?" My throat felt like sandpaper.
"Abandoned clinic," he said, offering water. "Safe for now, at least."
I tried to sit up but collapsed as pain knifed through my abdomen.
"Don't move!" He pressed me back down. "You're bleeding badly. I found a black-market doctor who patched you up—the baby's stable for now."
A black-market doctor…
My heart sank, then lifted slightly.
At least we were both alive.
"Victoria? What about—"
"She's gone ballistic." A cold smile twisted his lips. "I ran down several guards during our escape. The entire city's crawling with her people now."
"What do we do now?" Panic clawed at my chest.
We were hunted animals with nowhere to run.
"Don't be afraid." He took my hand, his palm surprisingly warm. "The shareholders' meeting starts at dawn. What we have is our only leverage."
He held up the USB drive.
"I've contacted someone," he said, his eyes gleaming with dangerous excitement. "Someone who can send Victoria straight to hell."
"Who?"
"William Grant."
I froze.
William Grant? The family patriarch himself?
Wasn't he bedridden from a stroke, isolated from the world?
"He's not paralyzed." Ethan sneered. "He's been playing the invalid, waiting for his chance to destroy his precious daughter-in-law."
"How could you possibly know that?" I asked, incredulous.
"Educated guess." Ethan shrugged. "A man who built an empire from nothing doesn't get outplayed by someone like Victoria. He's been watching, waiting. And now we're the weapon he needs."
I stared at Ethan, suddenly realizing I didn't know him at all.
His cunning, his depth, his ruthlessness—it was all foreign to me. And frightening.
"When did you contact him?"
"While you were out," he replied. "Anonymous text message. Just six words: Benjamin Grant, slow-acting poison."
My heart stuttered.
Those six words would drag any father back from the grave.
"Will he believe it?"
"He will," Ethan said with certainty. "He's suspected it all along. He just needed proof—a spark to ignite the powder keg."
"Now we wait. That's all."
He rose and pulled back the curtain's edge.
Dawn light cast half his face in gold, revealing the blood-tinged madness in his eyes.
"Wait until nine, when the meeting starts. Wait until every camera is trained on Victoria's lying face."
"That's when we strike back."
The next few hours stretched into eternity.
Contractions gripped my abdomen in waves, growing steadily closer together.
I knew birth was imminent.
I bit down hard, swallowing every cry of pain.
I couldn't deliver now.
Not yet.
My child couldn't enter the world in this filthy, dark place.
I needed to secure his future first.
Ethan remained beside me, awkwardly dabbing my forehead with a warm cloth, talking constantly to distract me.
We talked about college days.
About the ginkgo grove I loved and the poem he'd once slipped into my textbook.
Memories I'd once considered poisonous now became my only comfort.
"Ethan," I asked, studying his face, "after this is over… what will you do?"
He fell silent.
After a long pause, he laughed bitterly. "What right do I have to make plans? My hands are bloody now."
He'd shot a guard in the leg during our escape.
"I just want to see Victoria and Kevin punished," he said, hatred darkening his voice. "Then I'll turn myself in."
Something sharp twisted in my chest.
"What about the baby?"
"Yours." For the first time, genuine tenderness softened his eyes. "You'll be a good mother, Liv. Take him far away from here. Never come back."
Tears spilled down my cheeks, impossible to hold back.
Suddenly, Ethan's phone vibrated.
He checked it, his expression transforming instantly.
"What is it?" I asked anxiously.
Wordlessly, he handed me the phone.
A news alert blazed across the screen in bold text:
"BREAKING: Chaos at Grant Group Meeting! Victoria Miller Arrested for Massive Embezzlement and Fraud!"
Below was a photo:
Victoria in her designer suit, flanked by officers, her face a mask of shock and terror.
Behind her: a sea of camera flashes and stunned onlookers.
And at the front—an elderly man in a wheelchair, watching with cold satisfaction.
William Grant.
In his hand: a USB drive identical to ours.
We'd succeeded.
Relief flooded through me, draining my remaining strength.
But before I could celebrate,
another headline appeared:
"BREAKING: Angela Pierce, Fiancée of Grant Heir, Dead by Suicide! Found with Slit Wrists in Private Villa!"
Angela… dead?
I froze in shock.
Then a third headline hit like a thunderbolt:
"MANHUNT: Police Seek Ethan Shaw and Olivia Lane! Suspects in Kidnapping, Assault, and Connection to Pierce Death!"
Our photos stared back from the screen.
Below, in blood-red text:
"EXTREMELY DANGEROUS - SHOOT ON SIGHT"
