CHAPTER 21

Eliora's POV

"Ms. Monroe, you need to meet up with Mr Donovan." I pressed the telephone to my ear. A long breath escaped my lips as I pinched the bridge of my nose.

Taking off my glass and placing it carefully on the table, I spoke, “Mr. Larson. I get where you are coming from. It's just that things have been…. Overwhelming lately.”

The call went silent for a while. “Eliora, what have I told you about mixing business with emotions.” I closed my eyes tightly and spun my chair to face my office window overlooking the city.

“Those emotions always get in the way and make things more difficult.”

“Eliora, this deal has already been leaked to the media, and if you choose to back out now it will only make it look like you just wanted attention, and that's not good for the reputation of the company and you as well.” As he spoke, I found it hard to resist telling him everything that had happened. 

Maybe just maybe… he would let me sit this one out. 

Mr. Larson, despite being my long-term investor, had also been like a father figure to me. The man just knows how to balance professionalism with fatherly love. No matter how things get, he always respected my decision. That's why I respect him so much.

“Eliora, I don't know what's going on between you and Mr. Donovan, and honestly, I prefer it stays that way. Don't let anything get in your way because…. You know the consequences.”

I bit my lips hard, “Yes, I understand, Mr. Larson. I will do something about it. And I'm sorry for any inconvenience this caused you.”

“No pressure, dear. Just think about it and get back to me.” With that he ended the call.

I released a long breath I didn't know I was holding. He had a way of cutting through the noise.

After what seemed like hours swirling in my chair, I finally picked up my phone.

“Hello ma'am.” Clara's voice came in immediately.

“Yes Clara. Any calls from the Donovan tech space?” There was a pause, then...

“No ma'am. The last call came in about one month ago.”

Well, a lot had happened in that one month.

“Okay Clara. Set a meeting with the Donovan tech space. Discuss a suitable time with his assistant and get back to me.” I said as I rose to my feet, grabbing my coat and then my bag.

“Yes ma'am. I will do just that.”

“Thank you.”

.....

One week later, I was standing in front of the Donovan Tech space. My heart pounded in my chest so loud I feared someone passing by would hear it.

I took a deep breath, “let's get this over with.”

The ride from the elevator to his office lasted shorter than expected.

I stepped into the executive wing. Kian's assistant was absent, and the door to his inner office was slightly ajar. I pushed it open.

The room was silent. Kian’s office chair was overturned. He was sprawled on the expensive rug beside his desk, unconscious. His suit jacket was ripped, and a dark stain spread across his shirt.

Panic rushed through me.

"Kian!" The name tore from my throat. I rushed forward and dropped to my knees beside him.

"Kian. What's wrong?" But no answer. My heart pounded in my chest as fear gripped my whole body.

Kian lying lifeless on the floor. "Help!" I screamed. "Anybody there!" But it was no use, his office was the only one on this floor. I would have to run down and back up to get help but what if that is too late. 

Tears clouded my vision. "Kian. No... Kian." A tear dropped.

I bent down shakily to hear his heart breath and thankfully.... He was breathing, thankfully, but his face was deathly pale. I released a shaking breath and fell back to the floor. An overwhelming sense of relief washed over me.

The relief, however, was brief. My mind immediately registered the sticky dampness on the carpet and the coppery smell of blood. I pushed the fabric of his jacket back carefully, revealing a gash near his ribs that was still slowly weeping blood. The sight made my stomach clench, but I forced myself to remain steady. I pressed two fingers gently to his neck, checking the pulse again. It was weak, too rapid, but steady enough to confirm he was alive.

My eyes frantically scanned the floor, searching for a sign of what happened. I realized the attack wasn't random. Someone had broken in. Someone had targeted him.

Tucked under the edge of the overturned chair, I saw a small, folded note and several glossy photographs. The pictures were glossy, thrown haphazardly near the note, their subjects jarringly familiar.

My hands trembled as I reached for them. The photographs were horrifying, close-up shots of my angry confrontation with Kian on the street, including a clear image of my hand raised right before the slap. They were taken at night, proving someone had been following us, lurking in the shadows. The invasion of privacy was chilling.

I snatched the note and unfolded it. It was printed in cold, bold lettering:

"Just a warning. But honestly, you two look good together. I wonder what the press would think about this."

The fear was immediate, sharp, and paralyzing.

The press?.... Nothing good comes from the press, everything would be ruined. I imagined the headlines: Eliora Monroe’s Fake Engagement Crumbles After Violent Street Fight with Billionaire Ex-Husband. The entire corporate deception would be exposed. The truth about Ezra, which I had guarded for two years, would be next.

A sound, faint but distinct, came from the hallway, the whirring hum of an elevator arriving. Immediately I sprang to my feet and ran out the office to look for any suspicious person, but the hall was dead silent.

My heart was beating fast against my rib cage. Everything felt so surreal. What really was happening?

This wasn't about Kian’s business. This wasn't just the corporate leak. It was more. This was highly personal espionage.

Someone is watching us... spying on us. Someone is trying to ruin us… but why? I couldn't think of anything beyond the terrifying fact that a stranger possessed evidence that could destroy my entire life, and Ezra's safety.

Kian.

I ran back into the office, my eyes briefly meeting Kian’s still, pale face, then darting back to the note in my hand.

The note can wait. Right now Kian needs help. Every second I wasted thinking about the threat was a second he might lose consciousness entirely.

With that I tucked the photo and letter deep into the inner pocket of my coat, ensuring they were completely hidden. I straightened my spine, fighting the residual shock, and ran towards the nearest wall-mounted phone.

I grabbed the receiver, my voice shaking but loud. "There's an emergency on the top floor. Call the ambulance right now!"

The only thought ringing in my head was a desperate mantra: He has to live. I need him to live, because only he knows the enemies he has made.