Chapter 1 - The Trap is Set
The woman on the line paused just long enough to let the weight of her words sink into Clara’s bones.
“Mr. Thorne has considerable resources at his disposal, Ms. Hayes,” the assistant replied, her tone perfectly measured and devoid of emotion. “When an incident occurs involving a man of his stature in a public venue like the Carlyle Regency, a standard background check is routinely initiated by our corporate security team.”
Clara felt a cold bead of sweat roll down the back of her neck despite the chill of the hospital corridor.
He had investigated her.
He had taken her name, pulled her records, and dug through the private agony of her life without her permission.
“That is an invasion of privacy,” Clara said, her voice shaking with a potent mixture of rage and absolute terror. “He had no right to look into my family.”
“Be that as it may, the financial department at Mount Sinai has already received the preliminary transfer paperwork,” the assistant continued smoothly, completely ignoring Clara’s moral outrage. “However, Mr. Thorne has instructed them to hold the final release of funds until you and he have had a brief conversation.”
A trap.
It was a brilliant, devastating, inescapable trap set by a predator who had never learned how to accept the word no.
Clara looked through the glass window at Lucas, watching the slow, agonizing rise and fall of his thin chest beneath the hospital blankets.
Her brother was dying while a billionaire played games with his checkbook just to soothe his wounded ego.
“Where is he?” Clara asked, the fight draining out of her voice, replaced by a hollow, chilling resignation.
“A private car is waiting at the main entrance of the hospital right now, Ms. Hayes,” the assistant informed her. “The driver will bring you directly to Thorne Tower.”
The line went dead with a sharp click before Clara could ask another question.
She stood frozen in the antiseptic hallway for a long time, her phone clutched so tightly in her hand that her knuckles turned translucent.
She had slapped Gabriel Thorne in front of Manhattan’s elite, defending her dignity against his arrogant, insulting proposition.
Now, she was about to walk straight into his stronghold to beg for the very money she had thrown back in his face.
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She smoothed down her cheap, lint-covered coat, took a deep, shuddering breath, and walked toward the elevators.
Dignity was a luxury for people whose loved ones weren't fighting for their lives on the fourth floor.
