Snatched a Billionaire to Be My Husband — Episode 29
Sixty seconds appeared on Cora’s screen in red. Nocturne’s suppression system was designed to protect valuable equipment by starving a fire of oxygen. Once activated, it would treat Carter and Helena as expendable parts of the room. Cora heard Carter breathing through the headset and measured every second against the distance he still had to crawl.
Cora entered the shutdown command, but Helena had replaced the safety certificate. The system rejected every override. Byron called emergency services while Cora searched desperately through the building software for a physical control outside the sealed floor.
“The kitchen gas panel,” Carter said through ragged breaths. “Same emergency circuit.” He was crawling through the wine vault while the countdown reached forty-two. Cora opened the kitchen camera and found the panel behind a locked storage cage.
Easton appeared on-screen carrying a fire axe. He had arrived at Nocturne after hearing the board call and ignored security when they ordered him outside. “Tell me where to hit,” he said. His arrival was deeply reckless, but for once the recklessness placed him in danger for someone other than himself.
Cora directed him toward the red conduit without allowing herself to think about what a mistake would do. Easton broke the cage, cut through the outer housing, and exposed three cables. The timer reached twenty seconds.
“Blue cable, then pull the silver lever.” Easton swung the axe. The screen flickered, alarms died, and ventilation fans roared back to life with six seconds remaining. Cora closed her eyes only long enough to breathe.
Police entered through the loading dock and released the fire doors. Carter emerged from the wine vault coughing but conscious. Helena abandoned the server room and ran toward the rooftop, carrying the portable drive beneath her coat. Smoke from the damaged panel blurred the cameras, but the emergency system tracked every door she opened.
Easton intercepted her at the stairwell. Helena offered him enough money to disappear before trial, insisting Malcolm had always considered him disposable. Easton recorded the offer on his phone while keeping her talking until police reached the landing.
She struck him with the drive and tried to escape. Easton caught her arm despite the blood running from his forehead. “I spent my whole life being useful to people like you,” he said. “I’m done.” Officers restrained Helena and recovered the device.
Carter called Cora from an ambulance. “The server survived, and so did your favorite underqualified manager.” She laughed shakily. “You promoted yourself to favorite.” His voice softened. “You talked me through a ceiling while pregnant and under federal arrest. I’m absolutely taking the title.”
Byron wrapped an arm around Cora from behind. He had honored the court order and remained beside her instead of rushing into another dangerous building. Trusting others to execute the rescue had cost him visible effort, but it proved he had listened.
The recovered server contained Helena’s complete access history. She had copied Cora’s digital certificate, scheduled the email from Byron’s account, and routed the transfer through Malcolm’s shell network. The ninety million had never reached an account controlled by Cora. It had circulated long enough to create taxable records before disappearing into companies Helena administered.
Federal agents returned to the penthouse before dawn. This time they carried an order removing Cora’s ankle monitor. The prosecutor apologized for the intrusion, though the red mark around her skin could not be erased by professional regret.
“Are the charges dismissed?” Cora asked. The agent explained that formal dismissal required an evidentiary hearing because Helena claimed Byron ordered her actions. Until then, Cora remained a person of interest but was no longer considered a flight risk.
Byron’s attorneys wanted Cora to avoid the hearing and submit only a written statement. She refused. “My father died while other people told his story. I will not clear my name from behind a lawyer’s letter.” The hearing would be painful, but silence had already cost the Lane family more than public scrutiny ever could.
The hearing would combine federal evidence with a special session of the Hansen board. Helena’s claim placed Byron’s control of the company at risk, while Cora’s testimony could expose internal misconduct severe enough to break Hansen Holdings apart. Employees, investors, and hundreds of innocent pension accounts depended on what survived the truth.
“Tell the truth even if it costs me the company,” Byron said. Cora searched his face for hesitation and found none. “You spent years building it.” He touched her ring. “I spent years without you. I know which loss matters.”
Easton arrived from the hospital with stitches above his eyebrow and the original recording of Helena’s bribe. He also carried a file Malcolm had hidden in the family study: a list of every director who received money to ignore Lane Capital’s accounts. He had found it behind the drawer where his father once kept Easton’s childhood awards.
One name appeared at the top of the list—the chairman scheduled to preside over the hearing. The man responsible for deciding whether Cora and Byron were credible had been paid by Malcolm for more than five years. His supposed neutrality had always been another carefully purchased performance.
Before they could notify investigators, the chairman called a press conference. On live television, he accused Cora of seducing two Hansen men, fabricating a pregnancy, and orchestrating the fraud with Byron. Then he announced that the board would remove Byron permanently at noon.
