4

Noa’s POV

At first, it was just posturing. Then one of them squinted. Recognition clicked. "Hey… you’re that casino guy from TV, ain’t you?"

And just like that, the stakes changed.

"A couple hundred ain’t gonna cut it now," the thug sneered. "We know you got cash. You’re rich. Let’s see how generous you really are."

Elias stiffened. "We don’t carry much cash," he said carefully. "How about I call my assistant? They’ll bring the money."

Then he pointed—to me.

"My wife can stay with you while I get the cash."

My blood ran cold. He pointed at me

The thug leader laughed, low and dirty. "Your wife?" He looked me up and down like he was inspecting a piece of bruised fruit. "You’re kidding. Dressed like that? Looks more like a stray you picked up."

Elias frowned. “She is my wife, just check the news. And if I don’t come back, you can… do whatever you want with her."

The thug checked the news and confirmed my identity, smiling wider at me, flashing those rotten teeth. “Alright, let your wife accompany me for a while."

He grabbed my ass like I was meat on a market stall. "Sweetheart," he said, "you might not be as pretty as that lady over there, but I bet you’ll do just fine keeping me entertained."

He jerked his chin at Elias. "Go. Bring me the money. If you screw me, she’s the one who’s gonna pay.”

…

Elias and Harper walked away. I begged Elias to bring my twins away. That was the least he could do for me now.

And he did.

Once again, I was left behind.

Elias Ward only protected the people he truly cared about. And it sure as hell wasn’t me.

Would he come back?

I didn’t know.

Maybe he wouldn’t. Maybe he was just happy I would finally disappear.

…

An hour passed. Then another.

The thug leader grew impatient, pacing, cursing, shooting me filthy looks like he couldn’t decide whether to beat me or tear my clothes off.

"I’m bored, pretty girl," he sneered, flicking a glance at my jeans. "How about you make me a little happy while we wait for your husband?"

I braced myself, edging back, heart hammering.

But there were too many of them. Ten men, all muscle and bad intentions.

I wouldn’t get three steps before they dragged me down.

The nightmare felt sickeningly familiar.

History trying to repeat itself. But not this time.

The leader lunged for me—and I kicked him square in the crotch with everything I had.

He howled in pain, doubling over. Then he struck me across the face, sending me sprawling to the ground. "Bitch," he spat, stomping toward me, grabbing at my jacket, my collar—hands reaching, greedy and cruel.

I squeezed my eyes shut, ready for the worst—when gunfire split the air.

Shouts. Screams. The sharp crack of rifles.

I opened my eyes just in time to see Elias’s men flooding into the alley, guns drawn, faces cold. The thug leader barely made it two steps before he was shot dead. His men scattered like rats, some falling, some fleeing.

It was over in seconds.

Elias rushed to my side, dropping to his knees.

"Noa," he said, voice hoarse. "Are you okay? I came back as fast as I could—I'm sorry—"

He reached for me like he expected me to collapse into his arms.

And then, as if he couldn’t help himself, he added—

"I had to get Harper back to the mansion first. If anything happened to her, my nephew would blame me."

The real reason. The same goddamn excuse he always had tucked up his sleeve.

I looked him dead in the eyes and said, "Shut up."

I didn’t want to hear it. Not one more word.

…

Back at the mansion, Elias played the concerned husband again.

He even called the family doctor to examine me, hovering while they checked the swelling on my face and the bruises blooming down my arms.

Afterward, he knelt by my bedside, brushing my hair back like we were still something.

"My wedding to Harper is tomorrow," he said softly, like that should somehow comfort me. "Just wait a little longer. After that... everything will be better."

Better.

Yes, it would. But not in the way he thought.

I smiled at him sweetly—the first real smile I’d given him in a long, long time. “Then there is more reasons that you shouldn’t keep your bride waiting," I said, my voice a blade wrapped in velvet. “Go, rest early and prepare yourself for tomorrow’s wedding.”

Elias smiled back, relieved, the fool.

After he left, I picked up the phone and dialed.

"Jose," I said when he answered. "I’m ready. Have the people and the car here tomorrow morning. Eight sharp."

Tomorrow, when Elias said "I do”— I’d already be gone.

And he’d never see me—or my twins—ever again.