Chapter 4

"God, they are so incredibly gullible," Jackson laughed, his voice echoing in the luxurious suite.

He wiped a fake tear from his cheek. The cork of the vintage champagne popped with a loud, celebratory crack.

Taylor emerged from the adjoining room. She wore a crimson silk robe that clung perfectly to her healthy body.

"Did you see the look on that reporter's face?" Taylor giggled. She walked over and accepted a crystal glass from him. "You should win an award for that crying fit. They bought every single second of it."

"Of course they did," Jackson sneered. He pulled her close, kissing her neck. "The whole world is crying for the poor, heartbroken widower. By tomorrow morning, the courts will declare her legally gone. The design company, the properties, everything she owned will be ours."

"She really thought you loved her," Taylor said. She took a long sip of her champagne, her eyes gleaming with malice. "It’s almost sad how blindly devoted she was."

"She was a means to an end," Jackson replied coldly. "A spare part. Nothing more."

A loud, electronic beep suddenly pierced the room. The heavy double doors locked with a resounding, metallic thud.

Jackson frowned. He set his glass down on the marble counter. "What was that?"

"Probably just the security system," Taylor dismissed, taking another sip.

"No," Jackson said, stepping back. "That sounded like the lockdown protocol."

Before he could take another step, the inner doors of the suite slid open.

I walked in.

I was no longer the bleeding, broken girl they had left to die on a cold steel table. I wore a breathtaking, midnight-blue silk gown that swept across the floor, perfectly hiding the bandages on my ribs.

My hand rested lightly on the arm of my new husband, Brendon. He stood beside me, radiating a dark, lethal authority that instantly sucked all the oxygen from the room.

Jackson’s champagne flute slipped from his fingers. It shattered against the marble floor, the expensive liquid splashing his shoes. The color completely drained from his face.

"Alynna?" Jackson choked out. He stumbled backward as if he had just seen a ghost. "How... you’re supposed to be dead."

Taylor dropped her glass next. Her jaw unhinged in pure terror. "Brendon? What are you doing with her?"

"Good evening, Jackson," I said, my voice eerily calm. "You always loved putting on a show, Jackson. But you forgot to turn off the cameras."

"What are you talking about?" Jackson demanded. His voice trembled violently.

I pointed to the sleek security lenses mounted in the corners of the suite. A small red light blinked on each of them.

"Brendon's security team redirected the clinic's internal feed directly to the press monitors outside," I revealed.

"No," Jackson breathed, shaking his head.

"Yes," I continued, my voice echoing in the silent room. "Every single reporter standing in the rain just watched you pop champagne. They heard you laugh about my death. They are broadcasting this exact moment live to the entire world."

"Turn it off!" Jackson yelled. He lunged toward the wall panel, his hands shaking. "Brendon, turn it off right now!"

"It's too late," I whispered. "They already know. I sent them the proof of your fake marriage registry. I sent them Taylor’s perfectly healthy medical records. The world knows she never had kidney failure. They know you orchestrated the chandelier falling."

Taylor let out a strangled gasp, covering her mouth. "You... you ruined us."

"I haven't even started," I promised softly. "Brendon just bought every single debt you owe. You don't own your cars, your penthouse, or even the clothes on your back. You are utterly, publicly, and completely ruined."

The reality of his destruction crashed down on him. Jackson’s knees buckled. He collapsed onto the shattered glass on the marble floor, ignoring the sharp cuts on his skin.

Tears—real, desperate, agonizing tears—spilled down his cheeks.

"Alynna, please!" Jackson sobbed. He crawled toward me, reaching out with trembling hands. "You took my money! You took my reputation! We're even! I have absolutely nothing left! Please let us go!"

I looked down at the man I had loved for three years. He was nothing but a pathetic, sniveling coward.

I smiled coldly, the ice in my veins freezing my heart completely.

"Financial ruin was just business, Jackson," I said, my voice dropping to a lethal whisper.

I nodded to Brendon.

The doors behind us swung open. Four of Brendon’s massive, suited guards marched into the room. They weren't alone. They were pushing a heavy, sterile steel operating table.

Taylor screamed as the guards grabbed her arms.

"No! Let me go! Jackson, help me!" Taylor shrieked, her voice tearing through the room.

She kicked and thrashed, but they effortlessly lifted her off the ground. They slammed her down onto the cold metal.

Thick leather straps were instantly buckled over her wrists, her ankles, and her chest.

Jackson scrambled backward, his eyes wide with absolute, primal terror.

I walked over to the surgical tray resting on the edge of the table. I picked up a gleaming silver scalpel, the metal cold and heavy in my hand. I turned to face my ex-husband.

"You ordered an organ extraction," I reminded him, my eyes burning with a dark, unholy fire. "You wanted a kidney but failed. Now, I want what you owe me for killing my unborn child."

I pointed the blade directly at his chest.

"Someone is losing a heart tonight, Jackson," I vowed, the absolute finality of my words suffocating the room. "Choose. Her, or you."