Snatched a Billionaire to Be My Husband — Episode 10
Cora read the notation until the letters blurred. Her father had supposedly authorized a payment through Hansen Holdings three weeks before his death, yet her mother’s stroke had occurred later. There was no reason for him to anticipate a fifty-thousand-dollar hospital bill, much less arrange its settlement through the family of the man who would abandon his daughter.
“Is something wrong?” Dr. Kim asked. Cora forced herself to breathe. The receipt proved only that the money existed, not why. “I need a copy of everything connected to this payment,” she said. Her voice carried enough urgency that he stopped asking questions and directed the billing office to prepare the records.
She found Byron waiting near the elevators, one hand in his pocket while he spoke quietly into his phone. He ended the call when he saw her. “How is your mother?” The concern in his face almost disarmed her, but Cora held out the receipt between them.
“Did you arrange this?” Byron studied the page, and genuine surprise broke through his composure. “No.” She searched his eyes for deception. “Hansen Holdings paid the entire balance. My father’s name is on the authorization.”
Byron took the receipt and read the timestamp. His expression became unreadable, which frightened Cora more than shock would have. “This code belongs to our special accounts division,” he said. “Only three people can release funds from it.”
“Are you one of them?” she asked. “Yes.” He did not evade the implication. “But I didn’t release this payment, and your father had no access to our system.” That left two unknown people inside Hansen Holdings and a question Cora could no longer dismiss as coincidence.
She remembered the speed of the Lane collapse: an accusation of fraud, frozen accounts, headlines published before the family could respond, and her father’s death before he could explain. Cora had been too consumed by grief and her mother’s coma to examine the machinery behind the disaster. Now the first loose thread led directly into Byron’s company.
“What business did my father have with Hansen Holdings?” she demanded. Byron’s hesitation supplied an answer before he spoke. “Lane Capital participated in a joint acquisition last year. The deal failed. Your father’s alleged transfers were discovered during the audit.”
“You knew.” The words tasted like betrayal. Byron had taken her to bed without telling her that his company was connected to the investigation that destroyed her family. He had watched her rage at Easton, heard her speak of her father’s death, and kept this truth buried beneath warnings about revenge.
“I knew our firms had done business,” Byron said. “I did not oversee the investigation, and I never saw evidence that connected him personally.” Cora stepped back when he reached toward her. “But you knew enough to tell me.”
People moved around them with lowered voices and squeaking shoes, oblivious to the fault line opening beneath Cora’s life. She wanted to accuse Byron of manipulating her, but the confusion in his face looked real. That made the situation worse. If he had not authorized the payment, someone else knew exactly where she was and what she needed.
Byron folded the receipt and slipped it into his inner pocket. “Come to my office. I’ll trace the authorization.” Cora held out her hand. “Give it back.” He returned it immediately, honoring the boundary she had demanded in the car.
“I’ll investigate with you,” she said. “Not for you, and not because you think I need protection.” Byron considered the distinction before nodding. “Agreed.” The ease of his acceptance unsettled her. Easton had treated every compromise as defeat; Byron seemed to understand that trust could not exist without choice.
Cora visited her mother before leaving. The older woman was alert but tired, her speech steadier than the day before. When Cora mentioned the Lane-Hansen transaction carefully, fear flashed through her mother’s eyes. It disappeared so quickly that Cora might have imagined it.
“Your father handled the business,” her mother said. “You shouldn’t trouble yourself with it now.” She turned her face toward the window, ending the subject. Cora squeezed her hand, but the evasion lodged like a stone in her chest.
Byron drove her downtown after arranging a private nursing aide to remain with her mother. This time he asked before making the call. The gesture did not erase what he had withheld, but it proved he had listened. Cora accepted because finding the truth could protect her mother in ways money never would.
Hansen Holdings occupied the upper floors of a glass tower overlooking Los Angeles. Employees straightened as Byron passed, their greetings respectful and wary. Cora walked beside him beneath curious glances, aware that her presence would become corporate gossip before they reached the elevator.
Inside his office, Byron accessed the payment ledger while Cora watched. The authorization had been routed through a dormant account created for the Lane acquisition. Its digital signature belonged to Malcolm Hansen—Byron’s older brother and Easton’s father.
“Malcolm hasn’t worked in this office for six months,” Byron said. “He shouldn’t have active credentials.” Cora studied the screen. The payment had not been scheduled before her father’s death as the receipt implied; someone had backdated it minutes before Dr. Kim received the funds.
Byron opened the attached authorization file, and a scanned letter appeared. It bore Cora’s father’s signature and a handwritten instruction: If anything happens to me, protect Cora from Malcolm Hansen. Before either of them could speak, the office door opened—and Malcolm himself walked in.
