Chapter 4 - The Midnight Ambush
Chloe’s heart stopped. The glint of the silver gun under the rooftop lights felt surreal, like a nightmare she couldn't wake up from. Dylan’s hand was shaking, his face twisted in a mask of desperate rage.
"Dylan, stop!" Chloe screamed, stepping instinctively in front of Jacob. "Are you insane? You're going to throw your life away for this?"
"Move, Chloe!" Dylan yelled, his voice cracking. "You're nothing but a pawn in his game anyway! He doesn't love you! He used you to get his billions, and you're still defending him? He’s a liar!"
"She isn't moving, Dylan," Jacob’s voice was suddenly right at Chloe’s ear. Before she could protest, his strong hands gripped her waist and calmly but forcefully pulled her behind his broad frame. He shielded her entirely with his body, facing the barrel of the gun without a single flinch. "Your fight is with me. Leave her out of it."
Victoria Sterling stepped forward, her heels clicking aggressively on the concrete. "Don't be a fool, Dylan. Don't shoot him here. The audit is already failing. Marcus has blocked the transfer of the shares. All we need to do is keep him contained until the clock strikes twelve. In exactly twelve minutes, Jacob is disqualified, and Marcus takes everything. If you pull that trigger now, the cops will be here in seconds."
Dylan lowered the gun slightly, his breathing heavy, but his eyes remained locked on Jacob. "Right. Containment. Marcus’s men are downstairs. We take him now."
The two burly men in suits stepped forward, reaching into their jackets for restraints.
Chloe’s mind raced. Twelve minutes. If Jacob didn't verify the marriage with the trust board by midnight, everything he fought for—and the medical care he promised her grandmother—would vanish. She looked at Dylan, a man she had loved for three years, a man who had just revealed himself to be a literal corporate hitman.
A sudden surge of pure, unadulterated fury washed away Chloe's fear. She looked down at the heavy, crystal Champagne bucket resting on the outdoor lounge table next to her. It was filled with melted ice, water, and a heavy, unopened bottle of Dom Pérignon.
With a strength she didn't know she possessed—honed by years of carrying heavy trays of cast-iron skillet breakfasts—Chloe grabbed the base of the crystal bucket and swung it with maximum force.
CRASH!
The heavy crystal smashed directly into the side of the first security guard’s head. The impact sent a spray of ice water and glass shards across the terrace. The guard groaned, collapsing instantly to his knees.
"What the—!" Dylan shouted, swinging the gun toward her.
But Jacob was already moving. With lightning-fast reflexes that definitely hadn't been learned on a sidewalk, he closed the distance between himself and Dylan in a fraction of a second. He grabbed Dylan’s wrist, twisting it upward with a sickening POP.
Dylan screamed in agony as the gun flew out of his hand, skittering across the roof and plunging over the edge into the dark alley below. Jacob delivered a brutal, precise strike to Dylan’s solar plexus, dropping him to the ground, gasping for air.
The second guard lunged at Jacob, but Jacob ducked under a wild punch, grabbed the man’s lapels, and used his own momentum to throw him over the lounge table, shattering the glass top.
Victoria Sterling let out a sharp gasp, backing away toward the glass doors, her perfectly manicured hands trembling as she clutched her tablet. "You... you're insane! You won't make it to the corporate office in time! It’s ten miles away!"
Jacob wiped a drop of blood from his jaw, his gray eyes burning like hot coals. He looked at his watch. 11:51 PM. Nine minutes left.
"We aren't going to the corporate office, Victoria," Jacob said, his voice deadly calm. He turned to Chloe, extended his hand, and gave her a look of fierce, unspoken admiration. "We're going to the valet."
"Chloe!" her mother’s voice suddenly pierced the air. Helen and Margo were standing at the glass doors, having witnessed the entire brawl. Helen looked terrified, but Grandma Margo was clapping her fragile hands together, a fierce sparkle in her eyes.
"Go get 'em, Chloe!" Margo shouted, her voice stronger than it had been in months. "Don't let those bastards take what's yours!"
Chloe grabbed Jacob’s hand. "Let's go."
They ran down the service stairs, bypassing the elevators to avoid any of Marcus’s men. They burst through the kitchen doors of L'Aura, startling a dozen line cooks, and ran out into the valet driveway.
The midnight-black Rolls-Royce was still idling. The driver, a loyal, older man named Arthur, saw Jacob running toward him and instantly popped the rear doors open.
"Arthur, the Van Der Bilt Tower is locked down by Marcus's security," Jacob barked as they threw themselves into the leather interior. "Where is the nearest remote terminal connected to the secure satellite network?"
"The penthouse at the St. Regis, sir," Arthur said, slamming his foot on the gas. The massive car roared to life, tearing away from the curb and screeching into the midnight traffic. "But Marcus has teams stationed there too."
Jacob pulled a sleek, encrypted smartphone from the car's hidden compartment. He opened a biometric verification app. The screen flashed red. TERMINAL ACCESS REQUIRED. PHYSICAL SIGNATURE VERIFICATION MANDATORY AT AUTHORIZED HUB.
"Marcus blocked mobile verification," Jacob cursed, his jaw clenching. "He knew I'd try to do it from the car."
Chloe looked at the phone, then at the clock on the dashboard. 11:55 PM. Five minutes.
"Jacob," she said, her voice steady despite the adrenaline pumping through her veins. "Where is the closest authorized hub that Marcus wouldn't think to guard?"
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Jacob froze. He looked at her, a sudden realization dawning on his face. "The municipal courthouse. The public records terminal we just used to file our marriage certificate. It’s hardwired into the city’s secure government network. The Van Der Bilt trust recognizes any verified municipal hardline."
"Arthur!" Chloe yelled toward the front seat. "Turn this ship around! We're going back to the courthouse!"
