Chapter

Killian

A few minutes later, she walked in. She was wearing that same simple T-shirt and jeans, looking tired but still holding that rigid posture. She didn't look at me or Tanya. She headed straight for the table, grabbed a plate, and loaded it up.

She chose the exact same seat as before: ten feet away from us, a seat at the middle of the large table. She poured her coffee and sat down, immediately diving into her eggs.

I watched her. I wasn't saying anything, just giving her some space, kind of waiting to see if she'd even notice I was back in the room. She didn't. She was zoned out, focused only on eating, just like she'd promised she would be.

She was maybe halfway through the plate when her fork just froze.

Her head snapped up, and her eyes instantly went wide. Not the look of being scared, but of sharp, gut-punching shock. Her face, which had been pale all morning, suddenly went splotchy and bright red in patches.

"Nova?" I snapped, dropping the tablet I was looking at.

She didn't answer. Her hands flew up, clawing frantically at her mouth, then her neck. Her breathing hitched, making this awful, strained, squeaky whistle that was impossible to ignore.

"I... can't..." she managed to rasp out, her voice cutting off to nothing.

She shoved the plate away and stumbled backward, and then I saw it: her whole face started to balloon, swelling fast around her lips and eyes. Anaphylaxis. Shit, that was my first, terrifying thought.

I didn't think about anything else. I was out of my chair in a single, desperate blur, the chair skidding across the hardwood like a gunshot. I covered the distance between us in two huge strides, reaching her just as her eyes started to roll back.

Tanya was screaming something, just a high-pitched, scared noise, but I couldn't hear it over the awful whistling sound coming from Nova's throat.

I grabbed her, steadying her as she pitched forward against the table. "Pascal! Get the emergency medical team here! Now!" I yelled, my voice so loud it felt like it shook the glass walls.

"Nova! Where's your EpiPen?" I demanded, gripping her shoulders, trying to keep her standing.

She could only shake her head weakly. Her lips were already starting to look blue. She was dying, right here in my arms.

"Tanya! Go! Find her bag! Call Hennessey now!" I barked, shoving her toward the door. I didn't wait to see if she moved.

I ripped my phone out with my free hand. I smashed the speed dial for the private medical service.

"Hennessey! Emergency! Code Red! I need you here in three minutes, now! She's in anaphylactic shock! Airway closing, massive food allergy! Get in the damn car and move your ass!"

I hung up before the doctor could even confirm, gently laying Nova down flat on the floor, using my knee as a pillow to keep her head lifted. I had to keep the airways open. Her terrifying, ragged breaths were getting shallower.

A few minutes later, which felt like three hours, the medical team came running through the doors. They didn't need instructions; they saw her face, heard that choked breathing, and started working.

I backed up, just watching them inject the medicine into her thigh, watching them hook her up to oxygen. The whole time, I didn't feel cold; I felt this white-hot, destructive fury rising in my gut.

After they finally stabilized her, the near-death experience ended just as quickly as it started. He told me she needed to be moved upstairs for monitoring right away.

I waited until the room was empty and she was safely in her room before I moved. I walked slowly back toward the kitchen, my movements measured, like I was wading through cement.

Seeing her face turning blue and watching her fight for that single breath until her body went limp had shattered the careful control I always kept. This wasn't some business deal going sideways; this was someone trying to kill her inside my house.

I didn't say a word until every single staff member who was working that morning, kitchen staff, and maids were lined up in the dining room. They were standing stiffly beside the mess of the abandoned breakfast.

Tanya stood near the doorway, looking pale and terrified by the whole scene. I didn't even look at her.

I walked to the head of the table. The silence in the room was so thick it felt suffocating. I gripped the edge of the mahogany table until my knuckles went white, and I spoke, not with my usual chilled business voice, but with a roar that felt like it shook the entire house.

"What in God's name did you put in her food?!"

The staff group flinched at the same time. Tanya practically jumped out of her skin by the doorway.

I jabbed a shaking finger at the plate, still messy with scrambled egg. "She almost died right there, five minutes ago! This wasn't some hit job from the outside; this was a total screw-up right here in my house!"

I looked straight at Martha, my eyes practically burning holes in her. 

"MARTHA! You took the damn notes! She has a deadly, life-threatening peanut allergy! I need to know what the hell contaminated that food and who let it happen!"

Martha, who usually looks like a brick wall herself, was shaking, but she held my stare. She was obviously terrified of me, but her professional pride was holding strong. "Mr. Ashford, sir, I promise you, there was no contaminant," she insisted, her voice surprisingly steady, even though she looked totally sick. "I personally watched the pantry and kitchen get deep-cleaned when Miss Vale's allergies were noted. Every single nut item was taken out and thrown into the garbage. There are no nuts in this kitchen. We would never, ever mess up this badly!"

"Are you FUCKING kidding me?!" I roared back. "She stopped breathing! Her lips were blue! I have a doctor upstairs pumping her full of meds! Your damn assurances mean absolutely nothing when she almost died! Explain how your perfect, nut-free setup almost killed the one person you were supposed to be keeping safe!"

I didn't care that everyone, including Tanya, was watching me lose my mind. I only cared about what was real. Martha was a serious pro. She didn't lie, and she never failed. But the evidence was upstairs, breathing with the help of a machine. "Sir, I can only swear I checked everything the labels, the suppliers, the whole process," Martha pushed back, her voice tight with desperate belief. "It's just not possible that a peanut product was used in those eggs."