“I already liquidated every asset the Whitmore Group had. If I have to start over here, I will. I’ll rebuild from
the ground up.”
Ethan’s voice trembled with near–manic intensity. A strange glint of triumph flickered in his eyes, as if he
expected Ashley to praise him.
But to Ashley, he was nothing short of terrifying.
For the sake of his obsession, he had destroyed an entire legacy. He’d uprooted everything–burned it to
the ground–just to force her back into his life.
A man willing to do that for himself could never truly love anyone else.
She instinctively took a step back, hiding her revulsion. “So that’s what you’ve done.”
Just then, out of the corner of her eye, she spotted subtle movement behind the trees–Cyrael’s backup
team. Her heart leapt with both hope and fear. They had to stall for time.
“So what now?” she asked calmly. “Planning to hand over your empire to me? All your wealth, just like
that?”
Ethan didn’t even blink. “Yes. Everything I have is yours.”
For a heartbeat, her chest tightened–but she smoothed it over in an instant. “Then transfer it. Now. I’m
done with your empty promises,” she said, extending her hand.
Ethan eagerly pulled out his phone, tapped into his offshore account, and handed it to her.
“All two billion. Yours. Right now.”
Ashley took the phone and stepped back with deliberate calm. Raising her voice, she addressed the
mercenaries surrounding the wedding grounds.
“Listen up! The money’s in my hand now. If you want your final payment, you’ll stand down and drop your
weapons!”
“I’ll match every cent he promised you. But if you lay a hand on anyone here, I’ll donate every last dollar to
charity. Kill us, and you get nothing!”
Her sharp, commanding tone echoed across the courtyard, and it worked–confusion rippled through the
group of armed men.
Ethan staggered, frozen. “You… tricked me?”
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“Why?” he shouted, face contorted with disbelief. “I gave up everything for you! How could you do this to
me?”
Ashley looked at him with ice in her eyes. “Ethan, you already know why.”
“No! I don’t!” he roared. “You loved me once–I know you did! You just don’t get it–I love you too! That
night I told Cyrael I loved you, it wasn’t a lie!”
“Ethan, you don’t love anyone. Not really,” Ashley said softly but firmly. “The only person you’ve ever loved
is yourself.”
“I’ve said this too many times already, but I’ll say it once more, just to be clear: you don’t deserve to use
the word love.”
“No! That’s a lie!” Ethan’s voice cracked as he lifted his gun and pointed it at Cyrael across the yard.
“This is you punishing me! If I kill him, you’ll have to admit it. You’ll admit you still love me.”
“No!” Ashley screamed. “Don’t hurt him!”
She sprinted toward Cyrael, trying to shield him with her own body.
“You’re right! Everything you said is right! Just don’t hurt him–please!”
Before she could reach him, a gunshot rang out.
The world blurred.
Someone slammed Ashley, dragging her down as they rolled across the tiled floor, coming to rest behind
an overturned banquet table.
“God, Ash! You took the shot for me? You shouldn’t have done that. If anything happened to you, I’d never forgive myself!” Cyrael whispered hoarsely, holding her tightly in his arms, his ocean–deep blue eyes
brimming with tears.
“Ethan can’t hurt me,” she gasped, trembling. “But if you got hurt… I’d never recover.”
Cyrael pressed his forehead to hers. “I couldn’t bear losing you either. Ashley, I love you–I love you.”
Ashley broke down, clutching fistfuls of his suit as sobs shook her body.
She was truly, utterly terrified.
“I’m sorry you had to see this,” Cyrael said gently. “Let’s get out of here. I’ll keep you safe.”
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