Snatched a Billionaire to Be My Husband — Episode 14
The photograph left no room for wishful thinking. Mia held the black ledger against her body as though she understood its value, while Malcolm guided her through the hotel’s private entrance. Cora remembered seeing the same book on her father’s desk throughout childhood, never realizing it contained anything more dangerous than financial records. He had often closed it when she entered, then distracted her with candy from his desk drawer.
“How did she get it?” Easton asked. His outrage sounded personal, as if Mia’s deception mattered more than the attack on Evelyn. Cora ignored him. “My mother said Dad hid it somewhere connected to my childhood.”
She enlarged the image. A frayed blue ribbon protruded from the ledger’s pages, triggering a memory of the Lane family’s lakeside cabin. Her father had kept a blue key ribbon inside her old music box and joked that it opened the place where he stored his worst decisions.
“The cabin,” Cora said. “Mia went there.” Easton shook his head. “She couldn’t know about it.” Cora looked at him. “You did. I took you there two summers ago.” The shame on his face confirmed that he had told Mia more about Cora’s life than he wanted to admit.
Byron’s team tracked Malcolm to a suite registered under an offshore company. “We can’t storm a hotel room,” he said. “If the ledger proves financial crimes, mishandling it could destroy its value as evidence.” Cora hated the patience the law demanded from people whose lives were in danger.
“Then we make them bring it out,” she said. A plan formed from Malcolm’s earlier warning. He feared public scandal and wanted control of the Hansen board. If Cora convinced him she had another copy, he would be forced to negotiate.
Byron rejected the risk immediately. “Malcolm already sent someone toward your mother.” Cora faced him. “Which is why hiding won’t end this. He needs to believe killing me would release the evidence.” The blunt word made Easton flinch, but Cora refused to soften a danger that had already reached a hospital room.
“You don’t have the evidence.” Byron’s frustration sharpened. “He doesn’t know that.” She asked his investigator to prepare a timed message containing the photograph, her father’s letter, and a statement naming Malcolm. If Cora failed to cancel it within an hour, it would go to police, journalists, and Hansen board members.
Easton stared at her as if meeting a stranger. “You can’t blackmail my father.” Cora’s anger finally turned on him. “Someone threatened my mother’s life with a card issued in your name. If you still care more about protecting him, leave.”
He fell silent. Byron studied Cora, weighing his instinct to control the danger against the promise he had made not to control her. “You don’t enter that suite alone,” he said. “That is my condition for helping.”
“Your condition?” She almost refused on principle, but he continued. “Not because you belong to me. Because the scheduled release needs a second person capable of completing it if you’re incapacitated.” The reasoning was difficult to challenge.
Cora agreed. Easton wanted to accompany them, but Byron ordered him to remain with security. “If Malcolm used your card, he may need you as a scapegoat. Do not make yourself available.” For once, Easton obeyed without protest. Cora wondered whether losing Mia’s loyalty had finally taught him how betrayal felt from the other side.
Cora texted Malcolm a picture of the letter and wrote that she possessed the full ledger. His response came within a minute: Suite 1701. Bring Byron. No police. The demand revealed that Malcolm’s true conflict extended beyond the Lane family.
In the elevator, Byron adjusted the microphone hidden beneath Cora’s collar. His fingers brushed her neck, and awareness moved between them despite the danger. “If I tell you to leave, you leave,” he said. “If I tell you the same?” she asked.
His gaze held hers. “I leave with you.” The answer settled like a vow neither of them was prepared to name. Cora’s fear did not vanish, but it changed shape when his fingers closed around hers. When the doors opened, Byron took her hand—not to lead her, but to walk beside her toward the suite.
Malcolm admitted them without surprise. Mia stood near the windows, no ledger in sight. Her confidence faltered when she saw Cora and Byron holding hands, but Malcolm motioned them toward the center of the room.
“Give me your copy,” he said. Cora smiled. “Tell me why my father warned me about you.” Malcolm poured himself a drink. “Because he needed someone else blamed when his fraud collapsed.” His ease sounded rehearsed.
“Then why steal the original ledger?” Byron asked. Malcolm’s eyes narrowed. “Because it contains transactions that could be misunderstood by men eager to remove me from this family.” The admission was not enough, but it moved closer to the truth.
Cora stepped toward Mia. “Did Malcolm send you to my mother’s room?” Mia’s face lost color. “I only gave him Easton’s card. He said he needed access to hospital records.” Malcolm’s expression turned murderous, and Mia realized too late that she had implicated them both.
A chime sounded from Malcolm’s phone. He read the notification, then smiled at Byron. “You came here planning to expose me, but the board just called an emergency vote. Effective immediately, you’re suspended as CEO for misusing corporate funds—and every news outlet in Los Angeles has received photographs of you spending the night with your nephew’s ex-fiancée.”
