6

After cutting all ties with her parents, Harper headed back to the tenth floor to rest.

Her room was right across from the Young Master of the Gallagher family—a public declaration from the Gallaghers that she was, in fact, innocent.

By ten-thirty that night, the grand hotel lobby suddenly filled with men in black suits, surrounding the entire area in tight formation.

The atmosphere turned razor-sharp.

Harper, like everyone else, found herself blocked outside by the wall of bodyguards.

“What’s going on? Why won’t you let us through? We need to get upstairs!”

“We’re hotel guests! Who are you people? You have no right to stop us from using the elevator!”

Murmurs quickly turned into angry protests.

But Harper recognized those men almost immediately—Chase’s personal guards.

She peeked through a small gap between them and, sure enough, spotted the same elite team she’d seen outside his suite earlier—the so-called “Emperor’s Guard.” Each man stood straight and silent, their expressions cold and unreadable.

The elevator display showed that it was descending—slowly—from the tenth floor.

A burst of static crackled through the guard captain’s earpiece.

“First floor, be ready. The boss is coming down.”

“Copy that.”

Harper couldn’t help rolling her eyes. Seriously? This much security just to take an elevator?

Must be nice to be rich.

Or maybe, she thought dryly, Chase was just paranoid.

But just as the elevator was about to reach the lobby, a group of paparazzi suddenly burst out from the emergency stairwell!

Microphones, cameras, voice recorders—they came charging in like a stampede, trying to surround the elevator doors.

The bodyguards reacted instantly, moving in a blur to block them off.

Ding—

The elevator doors slid open.

Under the glittering chandelier, a tall, broad-shouldered man in a black suit and sunglasses stepped into view.

Harper’s pulse jumped. The memory of what had happened earlier that night flashed through her mind like a nightmare.

Her body tensed instinctively.

“Young Master! Can we ask you a few questions?”

“Young Master, how do you feel about your engagement?”

“Young Master, is it true that GG Group’s new PD drug will hit the market this fall?”

The paparazzi swarmed from every direction—some had been hiding behind vases, others had disguised themselves as hotel staff. Now they were all lunging toward the elevator like vultures.

The guards were skilled, but the crowd’s sudden rush threw the scene into chaos.

In the commotion, Harper was shoved forward, pressed between the wall of reporters and the guards’ barricade—her ribs felt like they were about to snap.

“Stop pushing!” she gasped.

Out of options, she used an old move she’d picked up years ago. She sucked in a breath and suddenly lunged forward with more force than anyone expected.

Her small frame slipped through the brief gap between the security guards—only to crash straight into a solid, unyielding chest.

“Ah—!”

A sharp jolt shot through her forehead.

Before she could react, the elevator doors closed behind her with a sharp clang, sealing out the chaos of the lobby.

She barely had time to catch her breath before she felt it—an intense, suffocating aura pressing in around her.

She didn’t need to look up to know whose icy gaze was burning into her.

Her palm was splayed against his chest.

Her leg was—oh god—resting against his thigh.

The air was freezing, yet the atmosphere was thick with tension and heat.

Their breathing tangled together in the tight space. Behind the dark lenses, Chase’s eyes flickered violently, the control in him slipping.

Then, as if she’d burned him, he shoved her away—hard.

Harper stumbled back, nearly losing her balance, before catching herself on the rail.

Her mind went blank.

The temperature in the elevator seemed to drop to zero.

Chase’s face was as cold and sharp as carved ice, his expression unreadable, his gaze cutting through her like an X-ray—scanning, dissecting, judging.

The elevator came to a stop on the tenth floor.

The air around Chase was so charged with power that Harper shivered before she even realized it. His piercing gaze made her palms clammy. She forced herself to act calm as she stepped out of the elevator, though her hand trembled slightly when she tried to open her door.

As soon as the door cracked open, a large hand slammed against it, keeping it from closing.

Then, the tall man strode in right behind her.

Harper’s heart skipped a beat. “What are you doing here?”

Chase’s eyes were icy cold. “If you don’t want to die, don’t make a sound.”

His entire presence radiated a dangerous, domineering energy. The kind that made her instinctively obey.

The tension in the room dropped like the temperature before a storm.

He stood there, staring at her across the space, his expression unreadable. Beneath the surface calm, something restless stirred in his chest — agitation mixed with an emotion he didn’t dare name.

Harper had no idea how long he planned to stay, but the longer the silence stretched, the more uneasy she felt. She didn’t even dare meet his eyes.

A loud, heavy knock suddenly shattered the tension.

Bang, bang, bang!

Chase straightened immediately, walking to the door and pressing the button on the monitor.

The screen showed four people — Phoebe, two police officers, and a middle-aged man who looked strangely familiar.

Chase narrowed his eyes slightly, then opened the door.

Phoebe barged in first. When she saw who had opened the door, her face froze. It took her several seconds to force a stiff smile.

“Y—Young Master Gallagher?!”

She could barely believe her eyes. That wretched Harper had actually managed to get close to him this fast?

“Is there something you need?” Chase asked coldly.

Before Phoebe could answer, the familiar-looking man beside her stepped forward and bowed three times, his voice respectful.

“Godfather, congratulations on your engagement!”

Harper’s jaw dropped. For a second, she thought she’d misheard him.

Did he just call Chase godfather?

Chase gave a slight nod, clearly used to the title. “It’s late. What brings you here?”

“I’m here to see my godmother.”

The man turned toward Harper with a complicated look.

Godmother?! Harper blinked, finally recognizing him. It was Gyle Callahan — Theo’s father!

“You’re looking for her?” Chase’s gaze flicked to Harper.

Gyle’s face twisted. “My son Theo… he’s been seriously injured.”

Every word dripped with accusation. His eyes told her clearly — he thought she was to blame.

“What happened?” Chase’s voice dropped, sharp and dangerous.

“He was bitten by a mad dog… his lower body was severely injured. He’s been in surgery all night.”

Instead of panicking, Harper almost burst out laughing inside.

Wait. If Gyle had just called Chase godfather, didn’t that make Theo… her grandson?

For the first time, she thought being engaged to Chase wasn’t such a bad deal after all.

Serves him right! she thought gleefully.

“Harper,” Phoebe interrupted, her tone dripping with false concern. “What happened to Theo? You were there, weren’t you?”

“Me?” Harper’s expression was pure innocence. “What are you talking about?”

“Don’t play dumb,” Phoebe snapped, lowering her voice in fake sympathy. “The police are already here. Be honest — maybe they’ll go easy on you.”

At that, one of the officers stepped forward, flashing his badge. “Miss Harper, I’m Detective Waleale from the local precinct. We received a report — the victim, Theo Callahan, suffered severe injuries. Since you were present at the scene, we need you to come with us and cooperate with our investigation.”

“Wait.”

Chase’s voice cut through the room, low and deadly calm.

The moment the Young Master spoke, the whole room’s atmosphere slowed, like air conking out in a sealed chamber.

The detectives narrowed their eyes at him. Chase’s face carried that same cold, predatory edge it always did — and everyone felt it in their bones.

Harper felt a familiar, two-lifetimes-deep dread. She couldn’t read him at all.

“We’ll cooperate with the investigation, but…” Chase’s gaze tightened. His voice, low and frosty, sucked the warmth from the room. “She won’t be leaving with you.”

A few seconds of awkward silence followed.

That single “won’t be leaving” made Detective Waleu hesitate — he glanced at his watch and understood immediately what the Young Master meant.

“All right. It is late,” Wale conceded. “Then, Mr. Gallagher, please arrange a quiet room for us. We’ll make an exception and ask Miss Reeves a few questions here.”

Chase nodded and opened the door to his suite, inviting them inside.

***