Snatched a Billionaire to Be My Husband — Episode 11
Malcolm Hansen stopped when he saw Cora standing beside Byron’s desk. He was broader than his younger brother, with Easton’s polished features and none of Byron’s restraint. Surprise crossed his face before settling into an affable smile that did not reach his eyes. Cora had met him dozens of times while engaged to Easton, but she had never noticed how thoroughly his charm depended on everyone accepting it without question.
“Cora,” he said, as though finding her inside a restricted executive office required no explanation. “I heard about your mother. I’m glad she’s awake.” The sympathy arrived too smoothly from a man whose family had refused to contribute a dime to her care. He did not ask about Evelyn’s condition, which made his supposed concern sound less like kindness than preparation.
Cora glanced at the screen, but Byron had already minimized the letter. “Did you pay her hospital bill?” he asked. Malcolm placed a leather folder on the desk. “I heard she needed help. Whatever disagreements the children have, Evelyn Lane has always been a friend of this family.”
“Your wife said she wouldn’t give us one dime,” Cora replied. Malcolm’s smile tightened. “My wife speaks from emotion. I prefer to handle matters privately.” He made generosity sound like evidence of superior character, yet his name on a backdated authorization told a different story.
Byron moved around the desk. “How did you reactivate your credentials?” Malcolm’s eyes sharpened. “I founded half the systems in this company. Don’t speak to me as though I’m an intruder.” For a moment, the tension between the brothers eclipsed every other question.
“You resigned from operations,” Byron said. “That removed your authority over special accounts.” Malcolm gave a dismissive shrug. “Then call it an administrative oversight. I paid a medical bill, not a bribe.” Byron’s expression did not change, but Cora sensed that his brother had just crossed a corporate line with consequences far beyond fifty thousand dollars.
Cora watched the exchange carefully. Malcolm was not surprised that she had traced the money. He was irritated that Byron had challenged him in front of her. “Why did you list the payment as a Lane family obligation?” she asked. “And why was the authorization backdated?”
His expression softened into practiced pity. “Your father left complicated business behind. I thought connecting the payment to an existing account would spare you another debt.” The answer explained the method without explaining the deception.
“Did my father ask you to protect me?” Cora asked. Silence landed hard. Malcolm’s gaze shifted toward Byron, confirming that he knew what they had opened. “A grieving daughter can misinterpret business language,” he said. “Whatever you found should stay inside this office.”
Byron’s voice cooled. “That sounds like a threat.” Malcolm laughed once. “It sounds like advice. The Lane scandal is toxic. If you reopen it, Hansen Holdings will be dragged into the wreckage, and the board will ask why its chief executive is compromising himself for Easton’s ex-fiancée.”
Cora heard the warning beneath the corporate language. Malcolm might not know about the night she spent with Byron, but he had noticed enough to weaponize their connection. She stepped away from the desk, unwilling to become a tool in a struggle between brothers. Whatever existed between her and Byron was confusing enough without a billionaire’s board assigning it a market value.
“I’ll repay the hospital money,” she said. “Then you will have no excuse to involve yourself in my life.” Malcolm regarded her with amusement. “With what, Cora? The assets your father’s creditors haven’t taken yet?”
Byron stepped between them. “That’s enough.” The same command that had stopped Mia now erased Malcolm’s smile. “Cora will not be insulted in my office, and you will provide a full explanation of every transaction connected to Lane Capital.”
“Careful, little brother.” Malcolm’s tone turned quiet. “The board tolerates your arrogance because you make them money. They won’t tolerate a scandal involving the woman who nearly married your nephew.” His gaze moved deliberately between them. The threat made Cora wonder whether someone had seen her leave Byron’s home—and whether Malcolm had already begun collecting proof.
Cora’s skin warmed, but Byron did not retreat. “Schedule the audit committee for tomorrow.” Malcolm stared at him, realizing the threat had failed. “If you force this open, you may not like what it reveals about the Lane family.”
“Then Cora deserves to know before the tabloids do.” Byron’s answer gave her more than protection; it gave her ownership of the truth. Malcolm picked up his folder and headed for the door, but Cora stopped him with one final question.
“Were you the last person to see my father alive?” The inquiry came from a detail she remembered in the police report: an unidentified business visitor had entered her father’s office the evening before his death. Malcolm’s steps faltered.
He looked back with a smile that chilled her. “Your father saw many people when he was desperate.” Then he left, closing the door with deliberate softness. The lack of denial echoed louder than a confession.
Byron restored the letter on-screen. Cora examined her father’s signature, recognizing the firm downstroke and the slight slant that appeared when his arthritis troubled him. It looked authentic. Beneath it, hidden by the preview window, was a second page.
Byron opened the attachment fully. A photograph appeared of Malcolm entering the Lane offices at 11:47 p.m. on the night Cora’s father died. Beside the image, her father had written a single sentence: If Malcolm comes for the original ledger, trust no one named Hansen—including Byron.
