Chapter 7 - THE UNHOLY ALLIANCEFor two weeks, the coastal estate became my high-end prison.
I didn't speak to Ethan. I slept in a separate guest room, locked the door every night, and refused to eat meals with him. Ethan didn't force the issue. He allowed me my space, but guards were stationed at every perimeter gate. I was forbidden from leaving the estate grounds without an escort.
I was trapped between two hells: the family who had physically abused and neglected me, and the husband who had manipulated my entire life for a corporate empire.
Then, on a stormy Thursday evening, everything exploded.
I was sitting in the living room, listening to the rain crash against the glass walls, when the estate's emergency alarms suddenly blared—a high-pitched, deafening screech that lit up the hallway with flashing red lights.
WAI-WAI-WAI!
The heavy oak doors of the grand foyer were violently kicked open.
BANG! BANG!
Gunshots echoed through the house. I screamed, dropping to the floor, covering my ears.
"Clara! Stay down!" Marcus’s voice boomed from the hallway, followed by the heavy sound of automatic gunfire and shatterproof glass cracking.
I crawled behind a thick velvet sofa, my heart hammering like a jackhammer. Through the gap beneath the furniture, I saw shadows moving rapidly through the foyer. Men dressed in black tactical gear, carrying submachine guns.
"Clear the west wing!" a raspy, rough voice ordered.
It was Victor "The Hammer" Vance—the notorious loan shark Jake had owed money to.
Beside Victor stood two people I never thought I would see again: my father, Martin, and my mother, Linda.
They looked unhinged. Martin was wearing a dirt-stained suit, his arm tied in a crude sling. Linda’s hair was wild, her eyes hollow and crazed. They had somehow posted bail—or Victor had posted it for them.
"Where is she?!" Linda screamed, her voice bordering on demonic. "Where is the ungrateful bitch?!"
"Check the study! Check the master bedroom!" Martin yelled, brandishing a heavy crowbar. "Find the safe! Victor wants the Sterling deeds! If we give him the original deeds, he wipes Jake's debt and gives us ten million cash!"
My blood ran cold.
My parents had made a deal with the mob. They had sold out their own daughter to an underground crime syndicate to save themselves and Jake.
Suddenly, a tall figure stepped out of the shadow of the main staircase.
Ethan.
He wasn't wearing a bulletproof vest. He didn't have a weapon in his hand. He simply stood at the base of the stairs, adjusting his platinum cufflinks, his expression as cold as glacier ice.
"Martin. Linda," Ethan said smoothly, his voice effortlessly cutting through the blaring alarms. "I see you've met my estranged distant cousin, Victor. I must admit, breaking into my estate takes a special kind of stupidity."
"Shut your mouth, Vance!" Victor growled, raising a suppressed pistol and aiming it directly at Ethan’s chest. "The guards outside are down. Your security system is jammed. Give me the Sterling land rights documents, or I put a bullet in your heart and take them anyway!"
Martin stepped forward, a disgusting, vengeful grin on his face. "You took my job, Ethan! You took my house! You ruined my son! Now we're taking everything you have!"
Ethan didn't flinch. He didn't even blink.
Instead, a slow, terrifying smile spread across his face—a smile far more wicked than anything my parents or Victor could ever summon.
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"You really think my security was jammed, Victor?" Ethan asked softly.
He raised his right hand and snapped his fingers.
