Chapter 76
Chapter 76:
Eliza stood over Anson, chest heaving, hands clenched at her sides. She looked down at the man who had tormented her for a decade — now sprawled in soil and his own blood.
She looked at the waiter.
“He slipped,” she said coolly.
Anson looked up at her through the blood dripping into his eye. He saw the coldness in her face. Humiliation washed over him, hotter than the pain.
“Anson! Oh my God p>
The scream shattered the tension.
Claudine Chapman came running down the corridor in a white dress that looked too bridal for a Tuesday lunch. She had evidently been meeting him.
She saw Anson on the floor. She saw the blood. She spun on Eliza, her eyes wild.
𝖳𝘩𝖾 𝖻𝘦𝘀𝘵 𝘳eа𝗱𝘪𝘯𝗀 𝖾xpеr𝘪еո𝘤e 𝗈𝘯
“What did you do to him?” Claudine screamed. “You savage! You attacked him p>
She knelt beside Anson, dabbing frantically at his forehead with a linen napkin. “Anson, baby, are you okay p>
“He fell,” Eliza said. Her voice was trembling now, the adrenaline draining away into shock. “Ask him p>
Anson shoved Claudine aside. “I’m fine. Get off me p>
He scrambled to his feet, slipping slightly on the scattered soil. He wiped the blood from his eye and glared at Eliza, but he said nothing. He couldn’t admit that his little sister had taken him down. It would destroy him.
The restaurant manager arrived, looking panicked. “Is there a problem here p>
“She assaulted him!” Claudine accused, jabbing a manicured finger at Eliza. “Call the police p>
“He harassed me,” Eliza countered, stepping back.
Then the air pressure in the corridor seemed to drop. The shadows grew longer.
“Is there a problem here p>
The voice was deep, calm, and absolutely terrifying. It wasn’t loud, but it cut through everything — a low growl meant only for the few people in the now-silent corridor.
Eliza turned.
Dallas stood at the far end of the corridor in a dark trench coat over his suit. He looked like a storm cloud that had taken human form, filling the narrow space and making Anson look small and disheveled by comparison. When his eyes landed on Anson, something flickered in their depths — not merely the authority of a CEO, but something colder. A killer’s stillness.
“Is my wife being bothered?” he asked, the words my wife landing like a territorial claim.
Claudine froze. Her mouth fell open. Wife? She looked from Dallas to Eliza, the pieces clicking into place one by one.
Anson went pale beneath the blood on his face. The secret was out. In this small, contained explosion, the game was over.
Dallas ignored them both. He walked straight to Eliza and scanned her face, then her body, checking for injuries.
“Are you hurt?” His voice softened, but his eyes remained deadly.
Eliza shook her head. She stepped toward him instinctively, drawn to his gravity. “Take me home. Please p>
Dallas extended his hand. Eliza took it. His grip was warm and solid — an anchor.
He looked at Anson. He took in the blood on his face, the broken pot, and Eliza’s shoes. A flicker of understanding, and unmistakable pride, crossed his face.