Chapter 9

Just yesterday, I visited Mother. And even if I hid it, she insisted on knowing who was helping us pay the hospital bills. When I mentioned Zachary Langston's name, she seemed to get worried.

“Families like them have their own rules. Promise me you’ll be careful," she had told me.

Although I clarified to her that if not for Zachary, perhaps we were not chatting at that moment. I cannot blame her for being dubious, though.

“My brother Zachary is the golden child. Always so serious, so perfect. Grandma Cecilia adores him, probably because he actually listens to her.”

I'm brought back to reality when Ella continues her story. We are in the car now, heading to the Langston estate. I actually thought that I would be working in the penthouse, but Zachary insisted Ella return to their home.

“Then there’s Oliver. He’s the smooth one, always calm, always knowing the right thing to say. He’s like the family diplomat.” She leans back in her seat, twirling a strand of hair. “And don’t even get me started on our cousins. Theo thinks he’s hilarious, but he’s really just a troublemaker. Always scheming, always stirring up drama. Nicholas, on the other hand, is the responsible one. He runs the business, along with Zachary."

Her tone lightens, and she lets out a laugh. “And Aunt Beatrice? She’s snobbish, but harmless. Just antiques and cats. But Uncle Vincent? Total wildcard. I wouldn’t trust him to pick what’s for dinner, let alone make any real decisions.”

I nod, listening intently as she paints a vivid picture of her family. She talks about them like they’re completely normal, like they’re just any other wealthy, powerful people. But I know better.

“Do you ever get involved in the family business?” I ask carefully.

"Actually, no. The corporate world is tedious, like watching paint dry. Duh! I'm a freelance model, and I prefer to keep my distance from all that drama," she smirks, flipping her hair over her shoulder.

“What exactly will I be doing for you?” I ask, steering the conversation away.

Ella grins. “You’ll be my assistant. Just stick with me. Help out at shoots, events, stuff like that. It’ll be fun, I promise!”

Ella’s excitement makes me smile, but something about her stories leaves me uneasy. Before I can reply, the car jerks slightly. It feels like we hit a bump, but the driver’s tense shoulders tell me otherwise.

“Is something wrong?” I ask, glancing at him.

The driver doesn’t answer. His eyes are fixed on the road, his grip on the wheel tightening as the car speeds up.

“What’s going on?” Ella asks.

I turn and look out the back window. That’s when I see a black car following close behind us, moving fast.

A loud bang shatters the air.

“What’s happening?” Ella asks again. This time her face was pale, but I know I am just as terrified.

The driver finally speaks. "We're being followed."

I twist around and see a black car speeding toward us. A flash of metal catches my eye. Is it a gun?

“Get down!” I yell, pulling Ella down into the seat. My whole body trembles as another shot rings out, closer this time.

The driver swerves hard, trying to lose the black car. Each turn makes my stomach lurch, and I cling to the seat, my breath coming in short, panicked bursts. Ella is sobbing, and I feel helpless.

Then, suddenly, Zachary’s car appears. It screeches to a stop ahead of us, blocking the attackers. He leans out of the window, two guns in his hands. His movements are sharp and confident, and within seconds, the black car slows and retreats.

Ella clings to me, shaking uncontrollably. “Why are they attacking us?”

“I don’t know,” I whisper, though deep down, I suspect this was no coincidence.

Zachary’s car pulls over, and before I can process what’s happening, he’s at our door.

“Is everyone alright?” he asks. His sharp gaze sweeps over us, staying on me for a moment.

“We’re fine,” I manage to say, though my hands won’t stop trembling.

He nods once, then looks at the driver. “Michael’s riding up front now. I'm going with this car.”

Zachary slides in beside me, and his huge presence filled the small space. My heart quickens for a reason that has nothing to do with the attack. His closeness is overwhelming, his clean and sharp scent making it hard to think.

He pulls out his phone. “Michael, alert the others. Full lockdown. No exceptions.”

Ella wipes her tears. “What does that even mean?”

Zachary doesn’t look at her. “It means you’re safe."

Then he turns to me. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine,” I whisper, though my voice shakes.

As the car speeds away, the silence feels heavy. The adrenaline is fading, and Ella, still shaken, leans against Zachary’s shoulder. Her breathing slows, and soon she’s asleep.

Zachary shifts slightly, careful not to wake her. His face is calm but undecipherable, his eyes fixed on the road ahead.

“Thank you for saving us,” I say softly, breaking the silence.

He doesn’t look at me. “It wasn’t luck. I always keep tabs on my responsibilities.”

I frown, unsure how to respond. “Ella’s your sister. Of course, you’d protect her.”

His gaze finally shifts to me, sharp and focused. “This wasn’t just about Ella.”

My heart skips. “Then why—”

“Because I don’t take risks with the people I’m responsible for. You're in my car, so you're my liability.”

I take a breath and ask the question I’ve been avoiding. “Is this what your world is like? Constant danger?”

His lips press into a thin line. “You’ve barely seen the surface.

"Nothing? I heard you and Michael talking about something regarding an operation. Is this what you do for a living?" I want to strangle myself for even bringing it up, but I need to know. Or else, I won't be able to sleep at night knowing what I might be involved in.

His eyes narrow, and he leans in closer, and I have forgotten how to breath. "Let's just say I have a unique skill set that comes in handy when needed."

I turn my face to the window, trying to calm the storm inside me. I should be angry at him for his coldness, for how he seems to control everything. But instead, I feel this strange pull toward him, like I can’t look away.

The car falls quiet for a while, but then he speaks again. “You’re shaking.”

I glance down and see my hands trembling in my lap. Before I can say anything, his fingers brush over mine, steadying them. The touch is brief but enough to send my heart racing.

“You’ll get used to it,” he says, pulling his hand away. “Just don’t do anything reckless.”

The car dips slightly as it turns onto a smoother road. Ella stirs briefly but settles again, her head nestled against his shoulder. I envy how easily she can find comfort in him, while I sit here, torn between fear and… nevermind.