Chapter 10: The Patriarch's Demand
Security alarms blared as glass rained down onto the plush carpets.
Vanessa Sterling stood in the doorway, wild-eyed and completely unhinged. In her hand, she held a heavy, silver fire extinguisher she had used to smash the glass. But it was the object in her other hand that made the entire room freeze in terror.
A sleek, black handgun.
"Nobody move!" Vanessa shrieked, pointing the barrel directly at Emily’s chest. Her makeup was smeared, her designer clothes rumpled. She looked like a woman who had lost absolutely everything and had nothing left to lose.
"Vanessa, put the gun down," Daniel commanded, standing up slowly, his hands raised. He instinctively stepped into the line of fire, shielding Emily with his own body.
"Shut up, Daniel!" Vanessa sobbed, her hand trembling violently. "She ruined my life! She took you, she took my reputation, she took everything! My father disowned me this morning because of the gala! It’s all her fault!"
"Vanessa, listen to me," Emily said, stepping out from behind Daniel’s protective frame. She kept her voice incredibly calm, channeling the newfound power burning in her veins. "If you pull that trigger, you go to prison for the rest of your life. Is Marcus worth that? Because he’s the one who used you."
Vanessa’s crazed eyes darted to Marcus, who was cowering in his chair, whimpering.
"He told me you were a nobody," Vanessa cried. "He gave me the keycard to the hospital to deal with your brother!"
The confession.
Emily’s blood ran cold, but the recording device in Daniel’s pocket, which he had switched on the moment the meeting began, caught every single word.
Suddenly, a red laser dot appeared on the center of Vanessa’s chest.
"Drop the weapon," a booming voice echoed from the shattered doorway. The Vance corporate security team, heavily armed and tactical, had flooded the hallway, their weapons trained on Vanessa.
Realizing she was completely trapped, Vanessa dropped the gun. It clattered uselessly against the floor. She collapsed, sobbing hysterically as security guards swarmed her, pinning her to the ground and slapping handcuffs onto her wrists.
"Take Marcus, too," Daniel ordered, his voice cold as steel. "Conspiracy to commit murder. The police are waiting downstairs."
Marcus didn't even fight. He let the guards drag him away, his empire of lies reduced to ashes.
The boardroom slowly cleared out, the stunned executives retreating to safety.
Finally, they were alone.
Daniel turned to Emily. The adrenaline of the standoff faded, replaced by an overwhelming, electric tension between them. He stepped close to her, his chest brushing against hers. He reached up, his fingers gently tracing her jawline.
"You saved my company," Daniel whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "You saved my life."
"You saved my brother," Emily replied, her breath hitching as she looked up into his intense gray eyes. "The contract... we don't need it anymore. You don't have to pretend."
"I stopped pretending the second I saw you in that green dress," Daniel confessed.
He didn't wait for her response. He leaned down and captured her lips with his. The kiss was explosive—a desperate, fiery collision of all the tension, danger, and unspoken longing that had built between them. Emily threw her arms around his neck, melting into his embrace, finally feeling entirely safe for the first time in her life.
But just as they pulled away, gasping for air, the sound of slow, mocking applause echoed from the shattered doorway.
Emily and Daniel spun around.
Standing in the ruins of the glass doors was a tall, imposing man with silver hair and a terrifyingly sharp gaze. He was flanked by six heavily armed men in unmarked black suits.
Emily’s heart stopped. She knew that face. She had seen it in her mother’s hidden lockbox.
"Bravo," the man said, his voice a rich, booming baritone that vibrated in the room. "A very touching display."
"Who the hell are you?" Daniel demanded, stepping in front of Emily.
May you like
The man smiled, but the expression was entirely devoid of warmth. He looked directly at Emily, his eyes locking onto the crescent moon birthmark on her wrist.
"I am Arthur Sinclair," the man announced. "And I have come to take my daughter home. The wedding to the Vance boy is off. You are promised to someone else."
