Snatched a Billionaire to Be My Husband — Episode 12
Cora stared at her father’s warning until Byron’s name seemed carved into the screen. The man standing beside her had defended her, paid attention when no one else did, and offered to help uncover the truth. Yet her father had placed him inside the same circle of danger as Malcolm.
“Did you know about this letter?” she asked. Byron did not flinch from the accusation. “No.” He stepped away from the computer, leaving her unobstructed access to the file. “If I had, I wouldn’t have opened it with you watching.”
The logic was sound, but logic had once told her Easton loved her. Cora copied the files to her phone and emailed them to an account Byron could not control. He watched without objection. That restraint made distrusting him harder, not easier.
“My father said not to trust you.” The words hurt more than they should have after one night and a handful of conversations. Byron’s expression revealed nothing. “Then don’t,” he said. “Trust evidence. It will disappoint you less than people do.”
Cora gathered her bag. “I need to leave.” Byron did not block the door, though concern tightened his voice. “Malcolm knows you found the letter. Going home alone would be careless.” She almost laughed at the familiar shape of his warning. “And going anywhere with you would violate the last thing my father asked of me.”
“Let my security team follow at a distance.” She refused. Byron reached into a drawer and placed a plain card on the desk. “This number goes directly to me. No assistant, no switchboard. Use it if anything feels wrong.”
Cora took the card only because refusing a tool was not the same as trusting the man who offered it. She left Hansen Holdings under the attention of dozens of employees and stepped into a city that now felt full of watchers. Every dark window reflected her own fear back at her. She kept one hand around her phone throughout the ride to the hospital, ready to send the files if anyone followed.
At the hospital, her mother was completing a speech exercise with a therapist. The sight steadied Cora. Whatever secrets her father had left, the treatment was working, and she would not let Malcolm’s money turn that recovery into leverage.
When they were alone, Cora showed her mother the photograph and asked about the original ledger. Evelyn’s hand began to tremble. “Where did you get this?” she whispered. The fear Cora had noticed earlier was now impossible to dismiss.
“Dad left it inside a Hansen account.” Cora sat beside the bed. “Mom, did Malcolm threaten him?” Evelyn closed her eyes, struggling against memories more exhausting than therapy. “Your father said there were numbers that could destroy powerful people. He wanted me to forget them.”
“Where is the ledger?” Cora pressed gently. Her mother looked toward the door before answering. “Not in the house. Your father hid it somewhere connected to your childhood. He said you would understand if the worst happened.”
Cora searched her memories: summers at the beach, school recitals, the small cabin where her father taught her to fish. Any place could fit. Her childhood was filled with hiding places designed for games, but her father had apparently turned one into insurance against powerful enemies. Before she could ask more, Evelyn’s monitor accelerated and a nurse hurried in, ending the conversation.
Dr. Kim ordered rest and warned Cora not to push her mother. Guilt followed her into the hallway. She had nearly compromised the recovery she was trying to protect, yet waiting gave Malcolm time to find whatever her father had hidden.
Her phone displayed three missed calls from Easton and a message demanding to know what she had told Byron. Cora deleted it. A second message appeared immediately: Stay away from my uncle if you know what’s good for you.
She was typing a reply when the lights in the corridor flickered. A man in maintenance scrubs emerged from the stairwell and walked toward her mother’s room. His badge was turned backward, and the cart he pushed carried no hospital logo.
Cora stepped into his path. “Can I help you?” The man glanced at her face, abandoned the cart, and ran. She shouted for security, but he disappeared through the stairwell before anyone reached them.
Inside the cart, a nurse found an empty syringe and a copied floor plan with Evelyn’s room circled in red. Cora’s fear became cold certainty. Someone had not come to threaten her mother. Someone had come prepared to silence her.
She pulled Byron’s card from her bag and dialed. He answered on the first ring. “Cora?” Hearing her name in his voice broke through the last of her resistance.
“Someone tried to get into my mother’s room,” she said. “I need security, but I need people Malcolm can’t buy.” Byron asked no unnecessary questions. He promised to arrive in ten minutes and ordered her to remain beside hospital security until then.
The call ended, and Cora looked through the glass at her sleeping mother. Byron might be one of the men her father had warned her against, but he was also the only man powerful enough to stand between her family and Malcolm. To keep Evelyn alive, Cora would have to place her trust exactly where her father had forbidden it.
