Chapter 27
Chapter 27
Nicolas strode toward the waiting Maybach. He gently placed Rachel in the back seat and wrapped his suit jacket around her trembling body.
“Hospital. Now,” he ordered, his voice tight with barely controlled fury.
Rachel curled up on the leather seat, soaked hair plastered to her face. When Nicolas brushed the wet strands from her forehead, his fingers found skin burning with fever.
“So cold…” Rachel unconsciously pressed closer to him, her lips completely drained of color.
He pulled her against his chest, barking at the driver to crank up the heat. His hands moved carefully over her face, wiping away water droplets like she was made of glass.
As the car raced through the night, Nicolas couldn’t take his eyes off her. Every shallow breath she took felt like a knife twisting in his gut.
Maybe she didn’t remember, but seven years ago when she’d intercepted that drugged drink meant for him, she’d collapsed in his arms exactly like this-broken and defenseless.
That was the moment his world had shifted on its axis.
But she’d never seen him. Always chasing after Jaxon like a lovesick fool.
When she was framed and imprisoned three years ago, he’d been too weak to save her. The guilt had eaten him alive. After her release, he’d kept his distance, terrified she’d blame him for failing her.
Then one night, his phone had rung. He’d stared at her name on the screen in disbelief:
“Nicolas, want to get married?”
“Nicolas…” Rachel’s broken whisper pulled him back to the present.
She clutched weakly at his shirt. “Thank you for helping me.”
Nicolas’s chest tightened. He didn’t deserve her gratitude,
Before she could say more, he leaned down, his breath warm against her skin. A ghost of a kiss touched the corner of her mouth-so soft it might have been imagined, but it made Rachel’s entire body shiver.
She stared up at him with wide, unfocused eyes.
Nicolas stayed close, his lips brushing her ear as he spoke: “Rachel, listen to me. You never have to thank
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Chapter 27
anyone for anything. Ever.”
His voice cracked slightly as he looked down at her. “I’m sorry I took so long. I should have been there
sooner.”
She tried to speak, but he pressed a gentle finger to her lips. “Shh. Don’t waste your energy.”
His jaw clenched as he thought about what could have happened if he’d arrived even minutes later. The image of Arthur repeatedly kicking her back into that pool would haunt him forever.
Never again. He’d burn the world down before letting anyone hurt her again.
At the hospital, medical staff rushed out with a stretcher. Nicolas carried Rachel from the car as she slipped
into unconsciousness.
“Severe hypothermia-we need to get her core temperature up immediately!”
Nicolas followed the stretcher until nurses blocked his path at the emergency room doors. He stood in the
hallway, his hands shaking with rage and something deeper-pure, devastating fear.
“Sir,” his assistant arrived, “the Leroix family-”
“Get them here,” Nicolas cut him off, his voice deadly quiet. “All of them. When she wakes up, we’re ending
this once and for all.”
When the emergency room lights finally dimmed, the doctor approached: “She fainted from severe
emotional trauma combined with physical exhaustion and hypothermia.”
Nicolas nodded, his gaze fixed on Rachel through the observation window.
Once alone with her, he took her pale hand in both of his, bringing it to his lips.
“I swear,” he whispered against her skin, “no one will ever hurt you again.”
Rachel woke to antiseptic smells and muted sunlight. Her entire body ached from being repeatedly slammed into that pool.
“Miss Leroix?” Nicolas’s assistant looked up from his paperwork. “How are you feeling?”
“Where’s Nicolas?”
“Meeting with your father.”
Rachel struggled to sit up despite feeling like she’d been hit by a truck. The assistant helped her into a wheelchair, understanding she wouldn’t wait around.
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The conference room upstairs was packed with Leroix family members surrounding Nicolas, who looked like he was restraining himself from committing murder.
Rachel’s eyes immediately found her grandfather, and suddenly all the pain she’d been holding back crashed over her. “Grandpa…”
Donald Leroix sat at the head of the table, his walking stick hitting the floor with sharp cracks. “You fucking animals! I’m not dead yet and you’re already destroying Rachel!”
Seeing her wheeled in, his weathered face crumpled with concern. “Jesus, sweetheart, what did they do to you?”
He reached for her hands, his own trembling slightly. “Don’t you worry about a damn thing. Grandpa’s gonna fix this.”
Rachel looked around the room at the sea of guilty faces, finally settling on Arthur and Sophie.
Sophie was already crying-because of course she was-and Arthur immediately moved to console his precious fake daughter.
“I’m okay, Grandpa,” Rachel lied, not wanting to add to his stress.
“Okay?” Donald’s cane slammed down hard enough to make everyone jump. “You call getting beaten and nearly drowned ‘okay’?”
His furious gaze landed on Arthur like a laser. “This is how you protect your sister?”
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