Snatched a Billionaire to Be My Husband — Episode 9
Easton’s accusation followed Cora and Byron to the threshold. Every face turned toward them, waiting for outrage, denial, or guilt. Cora felt the velvet ring box bite into her palm. One word from Byron could transform her from the discarded fiancée into the woman who had slept with her ex’s uncle before the engagement ring was even cold.
Byron removed his hand from her back and faced his nephew. “You ended your relationship with Cora,” he said. “You no longer have the right to question where she spends her nights.” It was not a denial. Easton heard that omission as clearly as Cora did, and fury tightened his features.
“So you were together.” Easton stepped forward, but his mother’s hand closed around his arm. Whether she meant to restrain or steady him was impossible to tell. Mia stared at Cora with fresh hatred, as though Easton’s wounded pride proved he still belonged to her.
“Be careful,” Byron warned. His voice remained quiet. “You discarded this woman when her family collapsed, mocked her mother’s illness, and demanded she beg for property you had no shame accepting. Jealousy does not become you.” The precision of the attack left Easton without a respectable defense.
Cora lifted her chin. “Whatever happened after you took back the ring is none of your business.” Saying it gave her a sense of freedom she had not expected. Easton had behaved as though ending their engagement reduced her to nothing, but it had also severed his claim over every choice she made.
Byron opened the front door. “We’re leaving.” Cora followed him into the afternoon sun, aware of Easton’s stare burning between her shoulder blades. She expected Byron to escort her to a waiting driver. Instead, he opened the passenger door of a black sedan himself.
The privacy inside the car felt more dangerous than the family confrontation. Byron drove in silence until the Hansen estate disappeared behind them. Cora watched the city slide past, trying not to remember the last time she had been alone with him. “You didn’t have to defend me,” she said at last.
“Yes, I did.” His hands tightened slightly on the steering wheel. “No one should have spoken to you that way.” Cora looked toward him. “Your family has been speaking to me that way since the Lane name became a liability. You only happened to hear it today.”
Byron’s jaw hardened. “Then I should have paid closer attention.” The answer carried an unexpected weight, as if he held himself responsible for injuries inflicted before he had any reason to protect her. Cora did not know what to do with a man who accepted responsibility more readily than Easton accepted shame.
At a red light, Byron glanced at the box in her hand. “The ring should cover the treatment.” Cora shook her head. “I don’t want your mother’s jewelry paying my bills.” He reminded her that it had been given to her lawfully, but she still placed the box in the center console.
“Then consider the fifty thousand a loan,” Byron said. Cora laughed without humor. “From another Hansen? That worked so well the first time.” His expression changed at the comparison, a flicker of hurt appearing before his control restored itself.
“I am not Easton.” The words were simple, but everything between them made them intimate. Cora remembered the restraint in his touch, the morning distance, and the way he had stood beside her when his family turned cruel. “I know,” she admitted. “That’s part of the problem.”
Byron pulled into the hospital garage and turned off the engine. “What problem?” he asked. The question trapped her beneath his direct gaze. Cora could not tell him that she had spent all day fighting the memory of him, or that his kindness frightened her more than his wealth.
“Last night was supposed to be revenge,” she said. “This morning, it was supposed to be over. Now you’re rescuing me in front of the same man I wanted to hurt.” She reached for the door. “I can’t tell where my choices end and your power begins.”
Byron caught her hand before she escaped, echoing the first touch that had started everything. “Then set the terms yourself.” His thumb rested against her pulse. “No gifts. No debt you don’t agree to. No decision made for you.”
The promise loosened something in Cora’s chest, but she withdrew her hand. “I need to see my mother.” Byron nodded and let her go. He remained in the garage while she hurried toward the elevators, giving her the space she had asked for.
Dr. Kim met her outside the hospital room with an expression far less burdened than before. “Your mother’s rehabilitation plan has been approved,” he said. “We can begin the full program tomorrow.” Relief came first, followed immediately by suspicion.
“Approved by whom?” Cora asked. She had not sold the ring, signed a loan, or authorized anyone to act for her. Dr. Kim checked the tablet in his hand. “The balance was paid in full ten minutes ago.”
Cora turned toward the corridor, but Byron was nowhere in sight. Anger rose alongside gratitude, tangled too tightly to separate. He had promised not to make decisions for her, then used his money before she even reached the elevator.
Dr. Kim handed her the receipt. The payer was not Byron Hansen. It was Hansen Holdings, and beneath the payment authorization appeared a notation that made Cora’s blood run cold: settlement of an outstanding Lane family obligation. Her father’s name was attached to the account—and according to the timestamp, the order had been entered three weeks before his death.
