Snatched a Billionaire to Be My Husband — Episode 24
Malcolm’s escape turned Byron’s penthouse into a guarded fortress. Cora could not enter an elevator without two security officers, and Evelyn’s rehabilitation wing adopted biometric access. Every precaution made sense. Together, they felt like another life designed by fear. Cora refused to let their child learn that love meant living behind locked doors.
Byron recovered at home under strict medical supervision, though rest suited him poorly. He reviewed security feeds from the sofa, challenged police search plans, and tried to accompany every vehicle carrying Cora. She tolerated the behavior for two days before taking away his tablet. His outrage was immediate and ineffective.
“You cannot protect us by reopening your wound,” she said. Byron looked toward the guards outside the room. “Malcolm threatened you from inside a secured hospital.” Cora sat beside him. “Then trust the team you hired. Loving me does not require destroying yourself first.”
The argument ended when Carter called from Nocturne. Mia had appeared at the bar asking for Cora, refusing to speak with police until she received a promise that Easton would not be present. She claimed to know where Malcolm kept the evidence he had not entered in the black ledger.
Byron objected to Cora meeting her. Cora proposed that Mia be brought to the penthouse under police escort instead. The compromise satisfied neither of them, which made it fair enough to accept.
Mia arrived without makeup or the confidence she once wore like armor. Weeks under investigation had stripped away the performance of superiority. She looked at Cora’s emerald ring, then at the hand resting protectively over her abdomen, and shame lowered her eyes. The old Mia would have attacked both symbols; this woman seemed unable to defend herself from their meaning.
“I didn’t leak the pregnancy,” Mia said before anyone accused her. “Malcolm did. He wanted everyone to believe you trapped Byron so the board would reject you.” Cora reminded her that she had already helped Malcolm target Evelyn. “I gave him a card,” Mia whispered. “I will regret that for the rest of my life.”
Regret did not make her trustworthy, but fear often made people honest. Mia revealed that Malcolm kept a backup drive containing every shell account and payoff. He had removed it from the Lane cabin with the ledger, then hidden it in a property registered to one of Byron’s development companies.
“Why would he tell you?” Byron asked. Mia flinched under his attention. “He didn’t. I heard him arguing with Vincent at the hotel. They called the property Orchard House and said no Hansen would search something owned through the Lane trust.”
Cora recognized the name. Orchard House had been a gardener’s cottage near her childhood cabin, transferred years ago during a boundary dispute. Byron’s purchase of Lane debt may have moved it into his trust without anyone realizing it still existed.
Police confirmed the cottage was legally controlled by Byron but had no active utilities or listed tenants. They planned a search before dawn. Mia insisted on identifying a concealed basement entrance because blueprints would not show it. She described a stone well, a drainage channel, and a rusted door hidden behind climbing ivy.
“You can describe it,” Cora said. Mia shook her head. “Malcolm changed the property after I went there. If officers use the main door, a fire system destroys the drive.” Her knowledge sounded alarmingly specific.
Byron suspected a trap. Mia admitted Malcolm had contacted her that morning and offered money to leave the country. She had agreed long enough to learn that he intended to retrieve the drive himself. “Help me testify,” she said, “and I will help you catch him.”
The operation was arranged for midnight. Mia would approach Orchard House wearing a wire while tactical officers surrounded the property. Cora and Byron would remain in a command vehicle miles away, a condition Cora accepted for the baby’s safety.
Easton learned of the plan through police and arrived before departure. Mia went rigid when she saw him. He did not accuse her or ask whether their relationship had ever been real. “Tell the truth,” he said. “It is the only useful thing either of us can do now.”
Mia’s eyes filled, but she nodded. For one brief moment, Cora saw two selfish people confronting the human cost of choices they once considered harmless. Redemption was not guaranteed. Responsibility was at least a beginning.
The convoy separated along the mountain road. Cora watched Mia’s location move steadily toward Orchard House, then stop two miles short. Her audio feed dissolved into static. Officers reached the vehicle and found the driver unconscious beside an open passenger door. Tire marks showed that another vehicle had waited beyond the reach of the nearest traffic camera.
A video appeared on Cora’s phone. Mia sat bound in the dark basement of Orchard House while Malcolm stood behind her. He held the backup drive in one hand and a detonator in the other.
“Bring me Margaret’s phone and the original ledger,” he said to the camera. “No police, no Byron, and no clever timed messages. This time Cora comes alone.” Mia tried to warn her, but Malcolm silenced her with a hand around her throat.
The image shifted toward a row of fuel canisters wired beneath the cottage. “You have one hour,” Malcolm said. “After that, the woman who helped destroy your life will burn with the evidence that could restore it.”
