Chapter 9–There’s A Bounty On Him

Natasha’s POV.

I had not planned to go jogging this morning.

But sleep had come in fragments. My mind was restless and unsettled.

By the time the sun began to rise, I threw on a sports bra and tight shorts, with a pair of sneakers.

The air outside was cool. I adjusted the earbuds in my ears, letting the music fill the silence as I began to jog.

I’d say Ananya does have an amazing playlist. She had sent me her Indian playlist when I was grieving Lucas. I never really listened to them because it was hard to understand what they were saying and I didn’t really like them—I never wanted to upset Ananya or her culture.

My pace was steady, my breathing controlled. Each step grounded me, pulling me away from the thoughts I didn’t want to revisit.

After a while, I slowed down, coming to a stop by the side of the road. I bent slightly, stretching my legs, rolling my shoulders before straightening again.

My gaze lifted briefly, scanning my surroundings without much thought. Everything looked normal.

I resumed jogging, my pace picking up again. But this time, something felt different.

It was subtle.

My brows pulled together slightly as I ran, my eyes flicking ahead. It flicked to the side, then I paused. I looked behind me, but no one was there.

I shrugged. It was probably nothing.

I continued jogging, but it felt like I was being watched.

Then I noticed a figure.

Not too close. Not too far either.

I kept running. It was a public space. People were allowed to move. There was nothing unusual about someone trailing behind me.

But still, it felt weird.

I slowed my pace just enough to fall into step beside another jogger—a woman I didn’t know, her rhythm steady.

It was safer that way.

I smiled at the woman, trying to engage her in conversation.

The figure was gone.

I stayed there for a few moments, matching the woman’s pace before eventually breaking off and turning back toward home.

While I was heading home, I didn’t notice anyone following me. Relief surged through me.

I had barely stepped inside my room when my phone rang.

I glanced at the screen.

Tristan.

I answered the call.

“What is it this time?” I asked, my tone even.

“Easy, tigress,” his voice came through. “I’m calling you because my grandmother wants to meet you.”

I blinked once. His words caught me off guard.

“That’s sudden.”

“She insists on seeing the woman I'm getting married to,” he said.

I hesitated.

There were a dozen reasons to say no. I hadn’t even fathomed the idea of getting married to him, let alone processed the decision I made about a week ago. Meeting his family—his grandmother… felt like stepping into something far more real than I bargained for.

My grip on the phone loosened slightly.

“Fine,” I said after a moment. “I’ll see her.”

“Good.”

“Send me the addr—“

“There’s no need for that,” he cut in smoothly. “A car is already waiting for you.”

I paused.

“…Excuse me?”

“You heard me.”

My expression hardened slightly as I turned, instinctively moving toward the window.

A sleek black BMW was outside, waiting.

I let out a short, disbelieving laugh.

“You sent a car before I even agreed?”

“I love to take my chances,” he replied.

“You’re unbelievable.”

A faint chuckle came from the other end.

“I’ll see you soon, Natasha.”

The call ended.

I stared at the phone for a second before lowering it slowly.

It didn’t take me long to get ready.

My movements were precise, controlled. I chose something simple, but elegant.

This was just a visit.

As I stepped out of the house and into the waiting car, I couldn’t ignore the quiet shift that settled in my chest.

The drive was calm.

The car pulled into an exclusive, more controlled environment.

I found myself staring at the estate before me, expansive and commanding without even trying.

The car came to a stop in front of a manor.

I stepped out of the car slowly, my gaze moving across the structure, taking in the details without letting it show too much on my face.

I walked toward the entrance, my steps measured.

The door opened as soon as I stepped on the terrace.

“Welcome, ma’am.”

“Hi! Thank you.” I said as I nodded to the doorman.

The inside was more than I expected.

Minimal, but elegant. Intentional.

Nothing out of place.

My eyes moved across the space as I stepped further in, taking in everything.

The floors were polished, cool and smooth beneath my heels, stretching into a living area. Floor-to-ceiling windows lined one side.

Muted tones dominated the space—beige, charcoal, hints of deep wood. Every color chosen, not accidental. Even the air felt curated. Clean, faintly scented.

I was into interior design, so it wasn’t hard to tell.

My eyes moved over the details until they settled on a picture of a woman mounted on the far wall. She looked elegant, young. And there was a striking resemblance between her and Tristan. Could that be his mother?

I tilted my head slightly, studying.

“You must be Natasha.”

The voice was warm, gentle. It caught me off guard.

And for the first time since I had stepped into the house… I paused.

I turned at the sound of the voice.

My gaze landed first on the woman.

Older. Graceful. Fragile, but not weak.

She stood beside Tristan, her hand resting lightly in his as if it had always belonged there. There was something about the way he held her—careful and steady. A side of him I had never seen beyond the cocky, provocative façade he put on.

Behind them stood another woman, younger. That must be his sister.

For a moment, I simply stood there—taking it all in.

This version of Tristan felt… different. Softer.

It was strange seeing him like this. The man I’d met was cocky, controlled, and impossible to read. This was something else entirely.

“Abuela,” Tristan said quietly, his tone carrying a gentleness I hadn’t expected. “This is Natasha.”

“Natasha, this is my grandmother…” he paused, then turned to the woman behind him. “…and this is my sister, Patricia.”

Their faces lit up instantly.

“Hello, Natasha.” Patricia said with so much enthusiasm.

“Hello, Patricia. Nice to meet you.”

“So you’re the business associate, hm?” His grandmother said.

Business associate? I frowned slightly at that—the familiarity in her tone. My gaze snapped to Tristan.

For a second, a faint—almost amused smile crossed his face.

“Abuela,” Tristan warned lightly.

She let out a soft laugh.

“What?” she shrugged, clearly amused. “That’s what you called her, no?”

Patricia smiled softly, clearly enjoying the moment.

Then Abuela stepped forward, composing herself.

“Good morning, ma’am,” I said respectfully.

Her smile widened.

“Oh, please. Call me Adelina,” she waved lightly. “Come here.”

Before I could react, she reached for my hand, holding it between both of hers.

“It’s so good to finally meet you,” she added.

I nodded slightly.

“You too, ma— Adelina,” my voice softer than I intended.

Tristan exhaled softly, already done with the conversation.

“I have something to take care of,” he said, his gaze briefly meeting mine. “I’ll be back.”

Without waiting for a response, he turned and walked away.

I watched him go for a second longer than necessary before shifting my attention back.

Adelina was looking at me, smiling.

“So,” she began, gesturing toward the sofa for us to sit. “How did you two meet?”

I hesitated just for a second. I didn’t know what Tristan had told her, because for all I knew, I was a business associate.

“It wasn’t anything special,” I said smoothly. “Our companies crossed paths, and we were introduced.”

That was an easy lie.

Abuela studied me for a moment, then nodded slowly.

“I see.”

Patricia said nothing, but the look in her eyes said enough.

She didn’t fully believe it.

“He mentioned you’re a Whitmore,” Adelina continued. “Do you happen to know a Susan Whitmore?”

“That’s my grandmother,” I replied, frowning slightly.

Adelina’s expression shifted to something softer, almost nostalgic.

“I thought so,” she said quietly.

“You knew her?” I asked.

“Well, she was an old friend.” Adelina replied, her gaze drifting briefly. “May God rest her soul.”

“Your grandmother, Susan, was so full of life,” she continued. “The kind of woman who lit up every room she was in without even trying.”

Suddenly, my thoughts spiraled.

Could that be the reason Tristan wanted me?

He had told me his grandmother wanted him to be married, but could he have chosen me because of the past connection?

Adelina’s voice cut through my thoughts, asking me questions.

What I liked.

Where I’d been.

And for a moment, it was comforting. This was the closest conversation I've had with a mother figure.

Time passed. I don’t know how much.

I shifted subtly in my seat.

“I should speak with Tristan,” I said after a while, my tone polite but firm. “He mentioned some documents.”

“Ah,” Adelina nodded once. “Of course.”

Patricia stood.

“I’ll take you,” she offered.

I followed her.

The further we walked in, the quieter it became.

We climbed the spiral stairs one at a time and stopped in front of a door.

“That’s his study,” Patricia said.

“Thank you.”

Patricia nodded once before turning away.

The door was slightly open.

I reached for the handle.

As I was about to knock on the door, I heard voices.

I paused.

I shouldn’t be listening in on the conversation, but I didn’t move.

“…you said nothing about the extent of his involvement,” a voice said.

Daniel.

Tristan’s response was calm.

“I wasn’t aware of anything at the time.”

“That’s not the point,” Daniel replied, his tone sharper. “Marcus Whitmore approached you to stabilize his company. Not drag you into something like this.”

My fingers tightened slightly around the handle.

Something like what?

There was a brief silence inside.

“There’s a bounty on him now,” Daniel continued. “And not just him. His family too.”

The words landed heavily.

Panic surged into my chest.

“That complicates things,” Tristan said.

“Complicate things?” Daniel scoffed. “They are already moving. It’s only a matter of time before they make an attempt.”

My heart slammed against my ribs. Then my mind drifted to the figure I saw this morning.

Everything started making sense.

“And he didn’t think to tell me,” Tristan said, voice rising with anger. “About the dealings. About who he owed. Did he think I wouldn’t find out?”

Silence settled again.

I stepped back slowly.

My heart was beating faster now, but my expression remained controlled.

I didn’t wait to hear more.

I turned and walked away.

Each step steady, despite the storm building beneath the surface.

By the time I reached the living area, Adelina and Patricia looked up.

“You’re back already?” Patricia asked.

I nodded once. “I have to leave.”

Adelina’s brows pulled together. “So soon?”

“Something came up,” I replied, my tone polite but distant.

Patricia studied me more closely this time.

“You’re sure everything is okay?”

I forced a small smile. “Yes.”

“I’ll see you another time,” I added, turning slightly toward Adelina.

She nodded slowly, though her gaze lingered.

“Take care of yourself, okay?”

“I will.”

I didn’t wait any longer.

I walked out of the house. Faster this time.

By the time I stepped outside, the air felt different—heavier.

I exhaled sharply, my gaze unfocused as I stood there, waiting.

Waiting for something to make sense.

I brought out my phone to book a ride.

“Miss Whitmore.”

I lifted my head. It was the driver who brought me here.

“Are you ready to leave?” he asked.

“Yes, please.” I replied too quickly. “Take me to Whitmore Industries.”

My hands trembled slightly.

One thought echoed louder than the rest.

What has my father done?

The car pulled into the garage at Whitmore Industries.

I stepped out, slamming the door shut. .

I walked into the lobby leading to the elevator. My movements were sharp and unyielding.

I stormed into his office, but he wasn’t there.

“Where’s my father?” I asked the secretary.

“He’s having a meeting in the boardroom.”

I didn’t waste any seconds.

“Ma’am, you can’t—”

I pushed the door to the boardroom open.

“Wow, Marcus. Wow! I must admit, you really are shameless.” I said as I clapped my hands together.

The room fell into awkward silence.

“That’d be all for now,” he said.

They all stood and left the room, except Victoria.

“What the hell is wrong with you, Natasha?” Victoria said.

“I’m not talking to you!” I snapped at her.

“In fact…” I paused. “…Get the fuck out!”

“And if I don’t?” she fired back.

I exhaled slowly. “Victoria, I won’t repeat myself.”

She moved to close the distance between us.

“You come in here, throwing tantrums, and you’re asking me to leave? Do your worst, sister. I'm not going anywhere."

That’s it. That was all it took. Whatever restraint I’d been holding back dissolved into nothing.

I surged forward, fisting my hand into her hair and yanking hard, dragging her out of the boardroom before she could even steady herself.

I locked the door behind me.

My father simply stood there as he watched the scene unfold right in front of him.

“Back to you, Marcus.”