The gunshot still echoed in my ears.
For a moment, everything froze—the air, the waves, even my heartbeat.
Then Ethan fell.
His body hit the pier with a hollow thud, and I dropped to my knees beside him. My fingers pressed against his shirt, but they came away wet and red.
"Ethan!" My voice cracked. "Ethan, stay with me!"
He tried to speak, but blood filled his mouth. His eyes met mine—frantic, pleading. "Run," he whispered.
"I'm not leaving you!" I pressed my hands against the wound, desperate to stop the bleeding. "Hold on, please—someone help!"
But the pier was empty. The shooter was gone, and the world around us had gone silent except for the waves slapping against the wood.
Ethan's hand gripped mine weakly. "Emily… don't trust—"
A cough tore through his throat, cutting off his words. His eyes fluttered shut.
"No! Ethan!" I shook him, but his body went limp. Panic clawed at my chest. I grabbed my phone, my fingers trembling, and dialed emergency services. My voice shook as I gave the address.
The sirens came fast, but those minutes felt like hours. I held his hand the whole time, whispering, "You're going to be okay. Please be okay."
When the paramedics arrived, they pushed me aside gently. One of them checked his pulse, then shouted for a stretcher. They worked fast, but I couldn't breathe until I heard one word.
"Alive."
He was alive.
Relief hit me so hard my legs almost gave out.
I followed the ambulance to the hospital, my clothes still stained with blood. Cameras flashed as soon as I reached the entrance. Reporters shouted my name, waving microphones, asking if I had shot him.
I pushed through the chaos, ignoring them all. Inside, the white walls felt too bright, too clean. I waited outside the emergency room, my hands shaking, replaying his last words in my head.
Don't trust…
Who? Lydia? The board? Someone else?
A nurse came out after what felt like forever. "He's in surgery," she said softly. "It was close, but he made it here in time."
I nodded, trying not to cry again. "Can I see him?"
"Not yet."
So I waited. Hours passed. The world outside kept spinning, but I stayed still, trapped between hope and fear.
When I finally stepped outside for air, the night had turned cold. I pulled my coat tighter around me, watching the city lights blur through my tears.
Then I heard a voice behind me.
"You shouldn't be here."
I turned. Lydia stood a few feet away, her perfect hair untouched by the wind, her red coat too bright against the dark.
Anger flared in my chest. "What are you doing here?"
She smiled faintly. "Ethan's my boss. Of course I'd come."
"You mean your target," I said bitterly.
Her smile didn't fade. "Careful, Emily. You wouldn't want people to think you're unstable after everything that's happened."
I took a step closer, my voice low. "I know what you did. You leaked the photos. You ruined my life."
Her eyes glittered. "Oh, sweetheart. You ruined your own life the moment you thought you could fit into his world."
I clenched my fists, but before I could respond, a doctor called my name.
"Mrs. Blackwood?"
I turned to him immediately. "Is he okay?"
"He's stable," the doctor said. "But he's still unconscious. We've moved him to the ICU. You can see him briefly, but only for a minute."
I didn't wait for Lydia's reaction. I rushed down the hall and into Ethan's room.
He lay still, pale against the white sheets, tubes and monitors surrounding him. The sight broke something inside me.
I sat beside him, gently holding his hand. "You're going to wake up," I whispered. "You have to."
For a moment, I thought I saw his fingers twitch, but maybe I imagined it. I leaned close. "You tried to tell me something, didn't you? Who was it? What did you mean?"
No answer. Only the steady beep of the heart monitor.
I stayed there until a nurse asked me to leave. As I walked out, I noticed Lydia talking to someone down the hall—a man in a dark suit. Their voices were low, but I caught a few words.
"…not the right time."
"…she's becoming a problem."
I slowed my steps, pretending to check my phone as I listened.
The man replied, "Then handle it quietly."
My pulse quickened. Handle it?
Before I could move, Lydia looked up and met my eyes. Her smile returned—slow, knowing.
I turned away fast and walked toward the exit, my heart pounding.
Outside, I called Alex. He answered on the second ring.
"Emily? Where are you?"
"The hospital. Ethan's alive, but Lydia's here too. And she's planning something."
He sighed. "I told you not to face her alone."
"She won't stop, Alex. She's working with someone. I heard her say it."
"Then we need to find out who."
I hesitated. "Ethan tried to tell me before he passed out. He said, 'Don't trust…' and then stopped."
"Don't trust who?"
"I don't know. But I think the answer's inside his office."
Alex paused. "You want to break into Blackwood Tower?"
"I want the truth."
It was past midnight when we got there. The city was quiet, the streets glistening from leftover rain. We slipped in through the service entrance using Alex's old security badge from his days as a contractor.
The elevator to the top floor was dark, the power dimmed for the night. My reflection in the steel doors looked like a stranger again—tired, bruised, but determined.
When the doors opened, Ethan's office was silent. The blinds were drawn, and the air smelled faintly of his cologne.
I walked to his desk, my heart thudding. "He said not to trust someone. What if he meant someone close—someone inside?"
Alex searched the drawers. "There has to be something here—notes, files, anything."
I checked the shelves, then froze. A folder was hidden behind a row of old company reports. I pulled it out carefully.
The label read: Confidential: Project E.
Inside were contracts, photos, and a list of names. Lydia's name was there. So was Rex Langford—the private investigator. But one more name made my blood run cold.
Daniel Cross.
Ethan's childhood friend. His business partner. The man he trusted most.
Alex frowned. "What is this?"
Before I could answer, footsteps echoed in the hall.
We ducked behind the desk just as the door opened.
Lydia walked in, heels clicking softly on the floor. She was on the phone.
"Yes," she said. "He's still alive. But it doesn't matter. Daniel said he won't last the week."
I covered my mouth, trying not to make a sound. My chest tightened as her words sank in.
Daniel wanted Ethan dead.
She continued, her tone sharp. "No, I'll handle her too. Emily's too close to finding out."
Then she ended the call and turned toward the desk.
Alex's hand touched my arm, warning me not to move. But Lydia's steps came closer.
She reached for the folder I had just found, her fingers brushing the edge. My pulse hammered.
Then her phone rang again, pulling her attention away. She answered it and left the office.
We waited until the sound of her heels faded. Then I stood, breathing fast. "We have to go. Now."
Alex nodded. "We'll take the folder. It's proof."
We left through the back stairs, the folder pressed to my chest like a lifeline.
Outside, the sky was beginning to lighten. Dawn was close. I felt hope again, faint but alive.
"We can give this to the police," Alex said. "Once Ethan wakes up, we'll have everything."
I nodded, clutching the papers tighter. "If he wakes up."
We reached his car and got in. I leaned back, exhausted. My mind replayed Lydia's words over and over.
He won't last the week.
But before I could speak, headlights flared behind us.
A black SUV sped toward us, too fast, too close.
"Alex!" I shouted.
He turned the key, but the car wouldn't start. The SUV's engine roared louder.
I looked up just as it hit us.
The world exploded in sound and light. Glass shattered. Metal crumpled. My scream was lost in the crash.
Then everything went dark.