Chapter 4

Vivienne's Pov 

The crash came out of nowhere.

One moment we were on the highway, the next a black SUV rammed us from the side. Metal screamed. My head slammed against the window. The world spun, once, twice, then flipped.

When everything stopped moving, I was hanging upside down, blood dripping into my eyes.

“Miss Ashworth!” the driver groaned. “Are you….”

Gunshots. Two quick pops.

The driver went silent.

I fumbled for the seatbelt with slick fingers. It released and I fell hard onto the crumpled roof. Pain exploded in my shoulder. I crawled through the broken window, glass cutting my palms, and rolled into the ditch.

Footsteps approached.

I pressed myself into the tall grass, heart thundering. A man’s voice, calm and professional.

“Target’s in the vehicle. Confirming now.”

Another voice on a radio: “Make it look like an accident. No witnesses.”

They were going to check the car. I had seconds.

I crawled backward, every movement agony. My vision blurred. The file names flashed through my mind—doctors, lawyers, a private investigator paid to disappear. They had done this before. They would do it again.

My hand closed around a sharp piece of metal from the wreck. Not much, but it was something.

The first man reached the overturned car. He leaned in, swore.

“She’s gone!”

I ran.

Or tried to. My legs buckled after ten meters. I fell hard, biting back a cry. They were coming, two of them, spreading out through the grass.

“Vivienne!” one called, almost gently. “Your mother sent us. She’s worried. Come out and we’ll take you home.”

Lies. All lies.

“Come on now, miss,” the second man added, his voice smooth like he was coaxing a scared animal. “No need to make this harder than it has to be. You’re hurt. Let us help you before you bleed out here like some stray dog.”

“Help me?” I hissed from the grass, unable to stay completely silent. “Like you helped my driver? I heard the shots. You killed him!”

The first man chuckled low. “Accidents happen on these roads. Fast cars, bad drivers. Tragic, really. But you don’t have to end up the same way. Just come out. Margaret wants you safe at home. We can fix all of this.”

I pressed my bleeding hand over my mouth and kept crawling toward the tree line. If I could reach the woods, maybe I could hide until…

“Stop moving!” the second man shouted. “You think you can run forever? Your sister warned us you might try something stupid like this. Always causing problems, aren’t you?”

My breath came in ragged gasps. “Clarissa… of course she did. How much did she promise you? Or was it Mother pulling the strings again? Tell me, how long have you been on their payroll? How many other ‘problems’ have you cleaned up for the Ashworths?”

“Doesn’t matter,” the first man replied, closer now. “Money spends the same. Walk away from this mess and everyone goes back to their nice, quiet lives. Keep pushing and… well, you already know how this story ends. Be smart for once in your life, girl.”

“Smart?” I shot back, voice trembling with rage and pain. “Smart would have been exposing all of you years ago. I know about the forged documents. I know about the hospital payoffs. You think I’m just going to crawl back and pretend everything’s fine? You’re wrong.”

The second man laughed coldly. “Listen to her, talking like she’s got power. Your grandmother filled your head with nonsense, didn’t she? All those old papers and crazy theories. Margaret should have burned them when she had the chance.”

“You’re the ones who are finished,” I whispered fiercely, still crawling. “Iris Lowe has everything. The real birth certificate, the wire transfers, the names. If I disappear, it all goes public by tonight.”

“Big words for someone bleeding in the dirt,” the first man snarled. “Your mother said you’d be difficult, but this is pathetic. Come out now and we’ll make it quick and painless. Keep hiding and I promise you’ll regret every second.”

A hand grabbed my ankle.

I twisted and slashed with the metal shard. It caught his arm. He cursed and loosened his grip just enough. I kicked upward, connecting with something soft. He stumbled back.

“Damn it! The bitch cut me!” he yelled.

“Good!” I spat, scrambling up. “Stay away from me! I know what you are. Hired killers pretending to be rescuers. Tell Margaret her secrets aren’t safe anymore! Tell her I remember everything she tried to bury!”

The second man appeared in front of me. Tall. Calm. Gun in his hand but pointed down.

“Enough,” he said. “This doesn’t have to hurt.”

My legs gave out. I sank to my knees in the dirt, exhausted and bleeding and furious.

“Tell Margaret,” I gasped, “that I know everything. And if I die today… the files go public automatically.”

He frowned. “What files?”

I laughed, tasting blood. “The ones your bosses don’t know about yet. The real birth records, the payments, the names of every person you people silenced. Kill me and it all comes out. Iris Lowe has instructions. Everything uploads at midnight if I don’t check in.”

The man with the bleeding arm cursed again. “She’s bluffing. Just finish it.”

“Shut up,” the taller one snapped. Then to me: “You’re smarter than they said. But bluffs won’t save you. Your family wants this cleaned up quietly. No more scandals. Hand over whatever copies you have and we can negotiate.”

“Negotiate?” I repeated bitterly. “Like you negotiated with the nurse who was supposed to talk? Or the lawyer who asked too many questions? I know how you people operate. There’s no negotiation. Only erasure.”

He raised the gun.

A new voice cut through the trees—sharp, commanding.

“Drop it. Now.”

Roman Steele stepped out from behind a thick oak, two of his own security men flanking him with weapons drawn. His face was thunder.

The attacker hesitated.

Roman’s voice dropped to ice. “I said drop it. Or the next call I make will be to people who make your employers disappear.”

The man lowered his gun slowly. His partner backed away, clutching his bleeding arm.

Roman didn’t take his eyes off them. “Vivienne. Come here.”

I tried to stand. The world tilted violently. Strong arms caught me before I hit the ground.

“I’ve got you,” Roman murmured against my hair. “You’re safe.”

As his men secured the attackers, I clutched his shirt, vision fading.

“Roman,” I w

hispered, “they killed me once already.”

He stiffened. “What?”

Darkness swallowed me before I could explain.