Chapter 4 - The Bullet Meant for His Wife
Ethan’s mother arrived at the safe house at nine that evening.
Eleanor Blackwood had the kind of elegance that made people straighten instinctively when she entered a room.
At sixty-four, she still wore her silver-blonde hair in a perfect shoulder-length style.
Her black cashmere coat probably cost more than my first car.
She looked first at Ethan.
Then at me.
Then at my stomach.
For the first time in the thirteen years I had known her, Eleanor Blackwood lost control of her expression.
“You’re pregnant.”
I almost laughed.
Apparently blindness ran in the family.
“Eight months.”
Her eyes snapped toward Ethan.
“You knew?”
“I found out this week.”
“You found out this week?”
Ethan’s mouth hardened.
“We have larger problems.”
Eleanor looked back at me.
“How could you hide this?”
The familiar judgment in her voice returned.
I crossed my arms.
“Quite easily, apparently.”
“Claire.”
“No. You don’t get to walk into the house where I’m hiding from armed men and criticize my maternity wardrobe.”
Her lips pressed together.
Ethan almost smiled.
Almost.
Daniel placed the financial records on the dining table.
“We need answers.”
Eleanor looked at him.
“About what?”
“Your foundation transferred two million dollars to Dunmore Consulting.”
She didn’t even blink.
“I authorized the transfer.”
Ethan went still.
“For what?”
“Private investigations.”
“Into Claire?”
“Yes.”
The room became silent.
I stared at her.
Ethan’s voice lowered dangerously.
“You had my wife followed.”
“I had your wife investigated.”
“Why?”
“Because you were divorcing her.”
“That doesn’t answer the question.”
Eleanor removed her gloves carefully.
“I wanted to know whether there was someone else.”
My anger rose.
“You mean you wanted proof I cheated.”
She looked at me.
“Yes.”
At least she didn’t lie.
“Why?”
“Because the Blackwood divorce settlement contains morality provisions.”
I stared at Ethan.
He looked equally furious.
“The agreement Daniel drafted didn’t.”
“I know.”
Eleanor’s eyes remained on her son.
“I believed you were being too generous.”
I laughed.
“I asked for almost nothing.”
“Exactly. That made me suspicious.”
“You thought because I didn’t want Ethan’s money, I must have another man?”
“I thought women rarely walk away from this family without a reason.”
Ethan leaned forward.
“You transferred money to men who fired at her.”
“I did no such thing.”
“The shell company funded them.”
Eleanor’s face shifted.
Only slightly.
“What?”
Daniel slid photographs across the table.
Vehicle records.
Bank transfers.
Images from the clinic attack.
Eleanor picked them up.
Her face became pale.
“I hired Dunmore to investigate Claire.”
“Who arranged the company?”
Ethan asked.
“Marcus.”
Silence.
Eleanor lowered the documents.
“He recommended them two years ago.”
Ethan stared at her.
“You gave Marcus access to your foundation accounts?”
“Limited access.”
“Mother.”
“He was your father’s brother.”
“He has been trying to destroy me for eighteen months.”
“You never told me that.”
Ethan laughed bitterly.
“Interesting how that feels.”
His eyes flicked briefly toward me.
The irony was not lost on either of us.
Eleanor sat down.
For the first time, she looked old.
Not physically.
Emotionally.
“What has Marcus done?”
Ethan remained standing.
“Stolen from the shipping companies. Bought three captains. Bribed two men inside security. Killed Andrew Reed.”
Vanessa looked away.
“And now he’s targeting Claire,” Ethan continued.
Eleanor’s gaze dropped toward my stomach.
“My grandchild.”
“Your grandchild,” I said, “is not a Blackwood asset.”
Her eyes returned to mine.
Something in them softened.
“I know.”
“Do you?”
“Yes.”
It was the first sincere answer I had ever heard from her.
Ethan turned toward Daniel.
“Freeze every account connected to Dunmore.”
“Already started.”
“Bring Marcus in.”
“If we can find him.”
Ethan’s expression became dark.
“We’ll find him.”
He turned to me.
“I’m moving security closer.”
“No.”
His patience snapped slightly.
“Claire, someone fired into this house.”
“I understand that.”
“Then stop fighting me on every—”
He stopped himself.
I saw the effort.
He took a breath.
“What would make you feel safe?”
The question surprised everyone.
Especially Eleanor.
I thought about it.
“Fewer men inside.”
“Fine.”
“Female security near the bedrooms.”
“Done.”
“No one enters without Maya or me being told.”
“Done.”
“You don’t sleep here.”
His jaw tightened.
“Claire.”
“That was the agreement.”
His eyes held mine.
Then he nodded.
“Fine.”
Eleanor watched us with something approaching disbelief.
After she left, Ethan remained in the kitchen while Daniel coordinated security.
I poured water.
My back hurt constantly now.
The baby had apparently decided my ribs were furniture.
“You should sit,” Ethan said.
“I’m pregnant, not fragile.”
“I didn’t say fragile.”
“You thought it.”
He leaned against the counter.
“No. I thought tired.”
I looked at him.
He looked away first.
That was new.
“Why didn’t you tell your mother about Marcus?”
“Because she still considered him family.”
“So did you once.”
“Yes.”
“What happened?”
His expression closed.
I almost told him never mind.
Then he surprised me.
“My father didn’t die in an accident.”
I stared at him.
The official story was a boating explosion when Ethan was seventeen.
“Marcus arranged it.”
My stomach tightened.
“You’re sure?”
“Now.”
“Why?”
“My father planned to remove him from the organization.”
“And your mother doesn’t know?”
“She suspected. Never had proof.”
“Why keep Marcus near you?”
“Because when you know a snake is in the room, you watch the snake.”
“That seems to have worked wonderfully.”
He gave me a tired look.
“Fair.”
I sat at the kitchen table.
“Why does he want you gone now?”
“Because I’ve spent five years moving Blackwood Holdings toward legitimate businesses.”
I almost laughed.
“You own illegal casinos.”
“Fewer than my father did.”
“Comforting.”
“I’m serious.”
“So am I.”
He rubbed his jaw.
“Marcus believes the old ways made us powerful.”
“And you?”
“I think they made us targets.”
I studied him.
“You never told me any of this.”
“I didn’t want you involved.”
“There it is again.”
“I know.”
“You keep saying you were protecting me.”
“I was.”
“You were excluding me.”
“I know.”
The admission took the fight out of me.
Ethan looked down at the table.
“I was raised to believe information gets people killed.”
“And silence saves them?”
“Yes.”
“Did it?”
He looked at my stomach.
“No.”
We sat quietly.
Then the baby shifted.
I winced.
His eyes moved immediately.
“What?”
“Your child is attempting to escape through my ribs.”
His expression softened.
“May I?”
I hesitated.
Then nodded.
He crouched beside me.
His hand rested lightly against my stomach.
The baby kicked.
A strange smile appeared on Ethan’s face.
I had seen him smile at expensive cars.
At successful negotiations.
Once when his favorite baseball team won the playoffs.
This was different.
Wonder stripped the arrogance from him.
“What are we calling the baby?” he whispered.
“We?”
He looked up.
“I know you may not want me involved.”
I sighed.
“You’re the father.”
“I don’t know what that means to you anymore.”
Neither did I.
“If it’s a boy,” I said, “I like Noah.”
His eyes dropped to my stomach again.
“Noah.”
“If it’s a girl, Lily.”
“Lily Blackwood.”
“Lily Bennett.”
His hand stilled.
I raised an eyebrow.
“You asked.”
He looked at me for a long moment.
Then nodded.
“Lily Bennett.”
That acceptance did something uncomfortable to my heart.
Before I could analyze it, Daniel entered.
“We found Marcus.”
Ethan stood.
“Where?”
“Blackwood Grand.”
The flagship hotel downtown.
Ethan’s expression hardened.
“He walked into my hotel?”
“He’s in the ballroom.”
“Why?”
Daniel looked grim.
“Because tonight is the Children’s Medical Foundation gala.”
I remembered immediately.
The gala I had attended with Ethan every year.
Hundreds of donors.
Politicians.
Executives.
Press.
And children from several hospital programs.
Ethan’s face became lethal.
“He picked a public event.”
“Security can’t move without causing panic.”
Ethan grabbed his coat.
“Then we don’t cause panic.”
I stood.
“No.”
He turned.
“You are not going.”
“I wasn’t planning to.”
“I meant no, you’re not going alone.”
“I’m taking Daniel.”
“I want you here.”
He approached me.
“I’m ending this.”
“That sounds exactly like something that gets people killed.”
“Claire.”
“You’re about to walk into a room where the man who murdered your father is waiting for you.”
His eyes changed.
“I’m aware.”
For one insane second, I wanted to tell him not to go.
The words lodged in my throat.
Because despite everything, I still loved him.
I hated that truth.
I hated it more than almost anything.
“Come back,” I said finally.
Ethan froze.
I looked away.
“For the baby.”
The lie sounded weak even to me.
His voice softened.
“I will.”
He left.
Two hours passed.
Then three.
At eleven fifteen, Daniel called.
I answered immediately.
“What happened?”
“We have Marcus.”
My knees weakened.
“Ethan?”
A pause.
My heart stopped.
“Daniel.”
“He’s alive.”
“What does that mean?”
“He was shot.”
I gripped the counter.
“Where?”
“Shoulder. The bullet passed through.”
“Where is he?”
“Northwestern.”
I was already grabbing my coat.
Maya appeared.
“Claire?”
“Ethan was shot.”
She looked at my stomach.
“You cannot sprint through a hospital at eight months pregnant.”
“Then drive fast.”
Twenty minutes later, I entered a private hospital corridor surrounded by Blackwood security.
Ethan sat on an examination bed while a doctor finished bandaging his shoulder.
He looked up.
Shock crossed his face.
“Claire.”
“You got shot.”
“I noticed.”
I stared at the bloody shirt cut open at the shoulder.
Anger overwhelmed fear.
“You said you’d come back.”
“I did.”
“You are in a hospital.”
“Technically, still back.”
“Don’t joke.”
His expression softened.
“Okay.”
The doctor left.
I moved closer.
“What happened?”
“Marcus brought six men.”
“And?”
“Four surrendered.”
“One?”
“Dead.”
“The last?”
“Marcus.”
“He’s alive?”
“Yes.”
“Police?”
“Eventually.”
I stared at him.
“Eventually?”
“Claire.”
“Right. Mafia.”
His mouth twitched.
Then he winced.
I almost smiled.
Almost.
“What did Marcus want?”
Ethan’s expression became serious.
“He wanted the company.”
“All of it?”
“The shipping division first.”
“Why?”
“Because he’s been using our routes for something I prohibited.”
I felt cold.
“What?”
Ethan looked away.
“People.”
I didn’t understand.
Then I did.
“Human trafficking?”
His jaw tightened.
“Yes.”
My stomach turned.
“You knew?”
“Not until six weeks ago.”
“That’s when you asked for the divorce.”
“Yes.”
The picture became clearer.
Marcus wasn’t just attempting a power grab.
He was running something monstrous through Blackwood territory.
“Why not call the authorities?”
“We are.”
I blinked.
“What?”
“Federal investigators have been working with Daniel quietly.”
“You’re cooperating with the FBI?”
“Yes.”
The revelation stunned me.
“You’re trying to dismantle your own organization.”
“The parts that deserve dismantling.”
I stared at him.
“Does Marcus know?”
“He knows enough.”
“That’s why he threatened me.”
“Yes.”
“And you thought divorcing me would protect me.”
“Yes.”
I sat down.
For the first time, Ethan’s decisions looked less like careless cruelty and more like disastrously misguided fear.
That didn’t erase the pain.
But it changed its shape.
He watched me.
“I should have told you.”
“Yes.”
“I thought if you hated me, you would leave faster.”
I looked at him.
“You wanted me to hate you?”
“No.”
His voice cracked slightly.
“I wanted you alive.”
My throat tightened.
“You don’t get to decide what I can survive.”
“I know.”
“You don’t get to sacrifice our marriage without asking me.”
“I know.”
“And if you ever try something that stupid again—”
He smiled faintly.
“Again?”
I realized what I had implied.
My cheeks warmed.
“Don’t make anything of that.”
“I wouldn’t dare.”
For several seconds, the room became quiet.
Then Ethan’s phone rang.
Daniel.
Ethan answered.
His face changed almost immediately.
“What?”
I watched the color leave him.
“When?”
He stood despite the injury.
“No. Lock everything.”
He hung up.
“What happened?”
His eyes met mine.
“Marcus escaped.”
My blood ran cold.
“How?”
“Someone inside the hospital helped him.”
“Who?”
“We don’t know.”
Ethan reached for his coat.
Then stopped.
His phone vibrated again.
A message.
He looked at it.
His face went completely still.
“What?”
He turned the screen toward me.
A photograph.
My safe house.
Taken less than five minutes earlier.
The front porch.
The upstairs nursery window.
And beneath it, a message from an unknown number.
May you like
Congratulations on the heir.
Maybe I’ll meet the baby before you do.
