Chapter 6 - The Trap
By 4:00 p.m., Arthur Hale had personally withdrawn the court petition.
The threat of a board takeover was crushed. Ethan’s position at Parker Global was fully secured, and the Hale family was forced into a quiet, defensive retreat, frantically trying to audit their own offshore accounts before Ethan decided to press the button.
That evening, the house was warm and quiet.
I sat in the small office off the kitchen, finishing the payroll receipts for the estate staff. The heavy glass doors opened, and Ethan walked in, carrying two glasses of sparkling apple cider.
He handed one to me.
"To strategic victories," Ethan said softly, raising his glass.
I touched my glass to his. "To strategic victories."
I took a sip, looking at him over the rim. "Thank you, Ethan. For standing up for me out there. Nobody has ever fought for me like that."
Ethan looked at me, his dark eyes warm and intense. He stepped closer, setting his glass down on the desk.
"You don't need people to fight for you, Maya," he said softly, reaching out to gently tuck a loose strand of hair behind my ear. His fingers lingered against my skin, sending a warm shiver straight down my spine. "You’re stronger than anyone I’ve ever met. You fought for Santi every single day when you had nothing."
My breath caught in my throat. We were standing barely six inches apart. For a second, I thought he was going to kiss me. I wanted him to.
Then, his phone buzzed violently on the desk.
The moment broke. Ethan stepped back, pulling the phone from his pocket. "It’s Marcus." He answered it. "Marcus, what’s going on?"
Marcus’s voice came through the speaker, rushed and filled with static: "Mr. Parker! We have a security breach at Miss Maya’s apartment complex! Someone cut the power to her building’s floor!"
I dropped my cider glass. It shattered against the hardwood floor.
"Santi!" I screamed. "Mrs. Gomez is watching Santi!"
"Marcus, tell me what’s happening!" Ethan shouted into the phone, grabbing my hand as we sprinted out of the office toward the garage.
"A vehicle rammed the parking gate five minutes ago," Marcus reported. "Two men pushed past the front desk! Miss Maya, is your brother associated with a guy named 'Grizzly'?"
May you like
"Yes!" I sobbed, tears blinding me as Ethan threw open the passenger door of his sports car and shoved me inside before slamming the door and jumping into the driver’s seat. "Beto owes Grizzly eighty thousand dollars! Oh God, Ethan! Please! My baby! They have my baby!"
Ethan hit the ignition. The engine roared like a caged beast, and we tore out of the Highland Park driveway, tires screaming against the asphalt.
