All Chapters of PROOF TO RUIN: 10 STEPS TO KILL A BILLIONAIRE : Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

The cluster of conversation on the far side of the ballroom fractured the moment Thorne Blackwood’s eyes locked with Heath’s. Every head turned. The string quartet faltered for half a beat before recovering, but the notes sounded thinner now, strained against the weight in the air. Conversations died mid-sentence. Guards in dark suits shifted their weight, hands drifting closer to their sides.Heath stopped. Thorne turned. They began walking toward each other through the parting crowd slowly, boots clicking against marble, each footfall a separate countdown. The space between them shrank inch by inch, and with each inch, my throat tightened. Heat radiated off the bodies pressing away from them. I swallowed.Thorne Blackwood moved with controlled power. He was Hispanic. His dark eyes held no warmth, only calculation. On his arm clung a woman who looked like she could draw blood with a smile. She had a thin figure, elegant, with sleek black hair pinned high and crimson lips curved in pe

I paced the narrow stretch of my living room like a caged animal, the red dress still clinging to my skin. The fabric whispered moved with every turn, a mocking reminder of the ballroom, the almost-kiss, and the guns. My heels clicked against the worn floorboards, adrenaline fizzing in my veins with nowhere to go.I grabbed my phone twice, thumb hovering over Jo’s name.She’d only guilt-trip me again. I thought, setting it down.Mom’s face in the hospital bed flashed behind my eyes—pale, still, the machines beeping like a countdown. I’d taken this job for her. Now I was drowning in Heath’s world, and I didn’t know how to surface.A shadow moved across the street below my window. A car? Or just the streetlight playing tricks? I pressed closer to the glass, heart stuttering. Nothing. Only the ordinary night of London. Still, the unease settled deeper, like fingers brushing the back of my neck.After a few minutes, a soft rattle at the door, then Heath’s voice came after.“Katherine. Let

I groaned as sunlight cut through the half-open curtains. My body ached all over, calves and feet still throbbing from yesterday’s heels and the endless standing at that ballroom. It was half past eleven. I buried my face in the pillow for one more minute, but the silence was so loud, only reminding me how long it had been since I’d seen Mum.Dragging myself out of bed, I finally stood up and headed to the bathroom. The cool tiles felt good under my bare feet as I brushed my teeth, staring at my tired reflection. I hadn’t seen her in too long. The image of her hooked up to machines still haunted me. I spat, rinsed, and grabbed my phone before I could overthink it.[Coming to the hospital today. Need anything?]Aunt Viv replied almost immediately.[Nothing for now, love.]By noon I’d thrown on jeans and a soft jumper, packed a bag with soup, fresh fruit, and some snacks, and driven across town. My fingers drummed the wheel the whole way. Part of me kept waiting for the phone to ring wi

HEATH The queen never moved first. I sat alone in the dim glow of my office, elbow on the chair arm, eyes fixed on the chessboard that hadn’t seen a game in years. My father hated amateurs who sacrificed queens for kings. 'Kings are symbols,' he'd say. 'Queens win wars.'" My fingers hovered over the queen—the most powerful piece, and stops. Not yet. Instead, I reached for the pawn—the smallest, the most disposable. I pushed it forward one square. Every war is won long before the first bullet. It is won here. On the board. My eyes snapped shut. EARLIER THAT MORNING The warehouse was settled in the farthest district from town. It didn’t look shabby, it fit in quite well with the actual warehouses here. The best way to be invisible is to blend in, Mavis would say. My men unloaded the heavy military crates in silence while Elias’ crew cracked them open. Inside: dirt bombs, detonators packed separately. One technician fitted each detonator with steady hands before sliding the comp

I closed the door behind me with a soft click that sounded louder than it should have. I didn't look back to see what his face wanted to say. I wanted him to sit with it, to feel the weight of every half-truth still lodged between us.I made it three steps toward my desk, when I heard it – glass exploding against a wall inside his office. A sharp, brutal crash that made me flinch and stop dead. My hand twitched toward the door handle before I caught myself.He's not yours to check on anymore.The thought landed like a slap. Six years ago I would have run in without hesitation, without fear for him. Now I stood frozen, my pulse racing only relying on my thoughts for whatever could be going on. Part of me still wanted to push that door open. The smarter part forced me back to my desk.He is not your partner, nor your boyfriend. I sat there reminding myself.Still, my mind kept replaying the low words I'd caught as I left: I'm trying to keep you alive.I dragged the BRD-09 folder closer