Chapter 9 - The Unfolding Conspiracy
Elena stared at the billionaire in utter disbelief. "You... you bought the entire catering company?"
"It was the fastest way to handle the administrative paperwork," Ethan replied, taking the glass of ice water from his hand and setting it on the tray beside her. "Starting effective immediately, you are no longer a server. You are the head of Noah’s private residential security and personal care detail."
"Mr. Vance, I am a maid," Elena said, her voice rising slightly in protest. "I don't have a background in high-profile security or executive protection!"
"You jumped under three hundred pounds of falling glass to save my son's life while my twenty-thousand-dollar-a-month security team was standing around drinking sparkling water," Ethan said, his hazel eyes locking onto hers with intense, unwavering certainty. "You have the only qualification I actually care about: you love him."
Noah instantly jumped up from his stool, setting his hot chocolate down, and clapped his small hands together. "YES! Please stay, Elena! Please!"
Elena looked down at the innocent, handsome little boy, feeling a deep, unshakeable tug at her heartstrings. She had grown up an orphan, struggling through the city’s foster systems, never knowing what it felt like to belong to a family or be protected by anyone. Looking into Noah’s bright-blue eyes, she knew she could never walk away from him now.
She let out a soft, defeated sigh, a small smile touching her lips. "Alright... I’ll stay."
"Yay!" Noah cheered, hugging her knee carefully so he didn't bump her injuries.
Before the moment could settle, the heavy double doors of the medical suite clicked open.
Ethan’s head of primary security, a stone-faced man named Vance Senior, stepped into the room holding a secure tablet device.
"Boss," the security chief reported, his voice tight. "We extracted the encrypted data from the tattooed assassin's phone before he regained consciousness."
Ethan’s atmosphere instantly hardened. He stepped away from the examination table, moving toward the hallway door. "What did you find?"
"The cufflink wasn't stolen from your dressing room, Mr. Vance," the chief revealed, holding the tablet out so Ethan could see the high-resolution files. "It was manufactured six days ago by a private jeweler in Zurich. The funds used to pay the assassin were routed through a shell corporation registered in the Cayman Islands."
Ethan scanned the screen, his jaw clenching so hard a muscle twitched near his ear. "Who owns the shell corporation?"
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The security chief hesitated for a brief second, glancing nervously toward the young maid and the child inside the room before leaning in closer to Ethan’s ear.
"The board of directors," the chief whispered quietly. "Specifically... your stepbrother, Julian Vance."
