Chapter 3

I didn't back down or say anything, just looked at Abby as if I was studying her.

Her impatience turned to icy anger. "You're not afraid of me?"

My calmness, to her, was like a challenge. Why would a pawn sent to be played with, a sacrifice pushed to the slaughter, act so steadily?

Next, I heard the soft thud of the cashmere blanket sliding to the floor.

She braced the armrests of the wheelchair, and her body tightened. Then, with a harsh sound of fabric, she stood up from the wheelchair!

The weak, sick act she used to wear was torn away by her own hands.

Faced with her tall and strong frame, I suddenly felt as if the room was closing in on me.

As she walked toward me, I stepped back without thinking.

"Who gave you the right to look at me like that?"

Before she finished, her long, strong hand shot out and clamped my throat like lightning.

I felt the air cut off, and my face turned red from lack of oxygen. I was forced to lift my head and meet her eyes full of murder.

"What trick is Olivia playing this time?" she snarled.

The choking pain was nearly killing me, but I knew this was my only chance. Begging would only make her despise me more.

I pushed what energy I had into my voice and forced out a few broken words. "Ms. Davidson… Your legs…got better…six months ago…didn't they?"

The moment the words left me, I felt her hand on my throat freeze.

The violent look in her eyes vanished in shock and then turned into a colder, more dangerous calm.

"Who the hell are you?" she demanded.

She did not let go and instead tightened her grip even more. My sight started to blur.

But I knew I had guessed right.

After a moment, she released me.

I collapsed to the floor and leaned on the door frame while coughing hard, drinking the air as if it were a prize.

Abby sat back down in the wheelchair. For a moment, it was as if the standing woman had been an illusion.

She still stared at me, but the killing intent had changed into doubt and curiosity.

"How did you know?" she asked.

"I actually know more than that," I answered.

I pushed myself up slowly and looked her in the eye.

"I know you faked your disability to make your real enemy let her guard down. I also know the enemy is Olivia, the one who sent me to you."

Abby's pupils shrank.

"We are meant to be allies, Ms. Davidson," I said.

My throat still hurt, and my voice was rough.

"Olivia stole my father's fortune. She switched me with the child of our housekeeper and used me as a throwaway, sending me to you to die. She's also the person who planned the car crash that killed your parents."

A dead silence filled the study.

I laid out the truth I had pieced together from my past life, plus the clues I had tricked out of Wallace this time. I told her everything at once.

"So, there are no bonds inside my father's safe. In it is proof of Olivia's crimes and my birth certificate. I gave them to Wallace for now. He's guarding them at the old family house in the country. And you must have the old investigation files on the crash. All the evidence ties back to one person."

"Olivia!" Abby spat the name through clenched teeth. Her hands on the wheelchair armrests dug so hard that the nails almost bit into her skin.

The storm of shock and pain in her eyes could not be hidden any longer. It turned into a flood of hatred.

She had thought she was the lone hunter. She did not expect that the prey she picked would be another avenger.

At that moment, her personal phone on the desk rang loudly.

The caller ID showed Olivia.

A flash of cold light went through Abby's eyes. She hit the speaker button.

Olivia's voice came through, sickeningly sweet. "Is this Ms. Davidson?"

Abby did not speak. She tapped the table with her fingertip.

Olivia sounded a little nervous and tried to laugh it off. "I wanted to check on Marshall. Is he settling in okay? He has always been quiet. I hope he's not troubling you."

"He's busy." Abby finally spoke, holding in her anger. "He's doing his duty as my husband."

Those words sounded extremely suggestive. Olivia's breath froze, and then she let out a leering laugh. "Haha, that's good. You young people sure are energetic."

She quickly showed her true plan. "Ms. Davidson, can I, um, talk to Marshall alone for a moment? After all, a mother worries."

She thought Abby couldn't hear her if she talked to me directly. Abby's lips curled with mockery, and she handed the phone to me without turning off the speaker.

I took the phone calmly and said, "Hey, Mom."

"Oh, Marshall!" Olivia's voice changed the second she heard me. Her nastier side came out. "Wallace has his eye on a project and needs a little money. You are Ms. Davidson's husband now. Put in a good word for us and see if she will slip out a little help. We are family, after all. She should help."

Her voice was low and bossy.

"And don't forget Conrad's birthday. Get him a good present. Don't make people think you forgot where you came from after marrying into the Davidsons. Don't embarrass the Bourns!"

Before I could answer, Conrad grabbed the phone and barked at me, his voice sharp and loud.

"Marshall! Don't play dead! Did you hear your mother? Make Abby give the Bourns 100 million—no, 200 million! That amount is nothing to her! And get me that Porsche 911 I saw last week! Don't think you're somebody now after marrying the Davidsons. You're just taking Wallace's place! He's the real eldest son of the Bourns! Everything you have is from us. It's time to pay us back!"

Right then, a loud crash rang out.

Abby snatched the phone from me and slammed it against the wall. The screen shattered, and the case bent. That expensive custom phone became a pile of costly trash.

Olivia and Conrad's voices stopped, and the study returned to silence.

Abby lifted her head slowly. Her eyes were full of red veins and fierce killing intent.