Chapter 225
Chapter 225:
Dallas was in the kitchen, stirring pasta sauce at the stove with a dish towel thrown over his shoulder. She noticed for the first time how he favored his left side — a subtle wince tightening the corner of his mouth as he moved, the faint purple bruise at his temple a stark reminder of the accident. The smell of garlic and tomatoes, the soft jazz drifting through the room — it all felt jarringly wrong against the chaos in her mind.
He turned, smiling. “El? You’re early. Dinner isn’t quite—” He stopped when he saw her face.
Eliza stood on the other side of the marble island, gripping the edge until her knuckles turned white.
“Did you know my parents?” she asked.
Dallas froze. The wooden spoon went still in the sauce.
𝘑𝘰𝘪𝘯 o𝘶𝗋 𝗰o𝗺muո𝗶t𝘆 𝘰𝗻.с𝗈𝗺
His silence was louder than a scream. Eliza felt her heart sink.
“Did you know them before I met Anson?” she demanded, her voice climbing. “Before the bankruptcy p>
Dallas set the spoon slowly on the counter. He wiped his hands on the towel, his movements deliberate, careful.
“Yes,” he said quietly.
The world tilted.
“Was this — us — planned?” Her voice trembled. Tears pricked her eyes. “Like Anson planned the bankruptcy? Was I just a target for you too p>
“No.” Dallas moved around the island, reaching for her. “Eliza, listen p>
“Stay back!” She stumbled away, her voice cracking. “Everyone is plotting! Everyone is using me p>
It all collided at once — the car accident, the pain in her healing arm, Anson’s horrific confession, and now this. A perfect storm with nowhere left to break.
Her vision blurred. Black spots danced across her eyes. The room spun.
“Eliza!” Dallas shouted.
Her knees gave way. The floor rushed up — and then strong arms caught her before her head could meet the tiles.
Then darkness.
Across the city, in the library of the Hyde Estate, Anson poured himself a drink. His hand was shaking.
The door opened. Edward and Victoria Hyde walked in, their expressions grim but calculating.
“We heard,” Edward said, closing the door behind him. “She married Koch p>
Anson downed the scotch in one swallow. “It’s over p>
“Not necessarily,” Victoria mused, settling into a leather armchair and smoothing her skirt. “A marriage between a Solomon and a Koch creates an opening p>
Anson looked at his mother. “An opening p>
“We are hemorrhaging capital after your little stunt,” Edward said, pacing the room. “We need an infusion. A merger is out of the question, but we could propose a strategic alliance — using Eliza as the bridge. Koch has the resources to stop the bleeding p>
“She is not a bridge!” Anson hurled his glass against the fireplace. It shattered, crystal raining down across the hearth. “She is a person p>
“She is a Koch now,” Victoria said coldly. “And we need Koch capital p>
“You want me to use the woman I love to get a business deal?” Anson looked at them with undisguised disgust.
“You already destroyed our business to satisfy your ego,” Edward replied, his voice sharp. “At least this would be profitable. It’s the only move we have left to avoid total collapse p>
Anson stared at them. For the first time, he saw his own reflection in their eyes — the manipulation, the coldness, the casual reduction of people to instruments. He understood, with sudden and nauseating clarity, exactly where he had learned to be a monster.
At the hospital, Dallas paced the corridor outside the emergency room.