Page 64 of Always Been You
The brakes were never faulty. They were tampered with and manipulated by a remote device designed to fail at high speeds. It wasn’t an accident. It was intentional. Calculated.
Murder.
And the lawyer he hired covered it up, buried the evidence, twisted the reports, and made sure the world believed the lie.
I knew it wasn’t an accident.
Because I remember.
I remember lying in that hospital bed, barely conscious, my body broken, my mind swimming in and out of darkness. I remember hearing his voice, sharp and low, when he came to my room. He thought I was in a coma. I was lucky that Andrei and a nurse came in.
He came to finish what he started. I don’t blink. I don’t breathe. A slow, sharp fury builds in my chest.
Everyone involved in this is going down.
I turn my gaze out the window. The sun is blinding, the heat thick in the air, but inside, I’m ice-cold.
Simon pulls up to our destination, and without a word, I step out. My movements are slow and deliberate. Controlled.
Josh follows as we enter the building, heading straight for the lift that will take us to the top floor, where the shareholders’ meeting is already underway.
I tighten my cuff-links.
By the time I walk out of this room, George Montgomery’s reign will be over, and this time, he won’t get a second chance.
We step into the meeting room, and all eyes immediately shift to us. The weight of their stares is almost palpable, but I barely acknowledge them. My attention is fixed on the one person who shouldn’t be here.
Lawliss.
She smiles despite herself, smirking as she gestures toward the empty seat beside her. An invitation. A claim. I don’t hesitate. Ignoring the whispers and side glances, I stride straight to her, lean in, and press a slow kiss to her cheek.
The blush that rises on her skin? That’s mine.
I take my seat, and Josh settles to my right.
“I saved it for you,” she murmurs, her voice soft but teasing.
My gaze sweeps the room, taking in the conference space—a modern design with a sleek round glass table in the center. The people seated around it watch us, some wary, some intrigued. But I’m only focused on one.
I turn back to Lawliss, lowering my voice. “You didn’t tell me you’d be here. We could have come together.”
She leans in slightly, a small smile curving her lips. “That’s called a surprise.”
She’s more relaxed than I expected, comfortable enough to tease me. It does something to my chest—a strange warmth that has nothing to do with the power moves happening in this room. We’re getting there. One step at a time.
Then, his voice cuts through the moment like a dull knife.
“Are you both done?” Venom drips from every syllable, and I finally acknowledge the man who’s been avoiding my gaze since I entered.
George Ansah. My uncle.
Not for long.
I exhale slowly, rolling my shoulders back. “Excuse me?” My voice is calm, but there’s an edge to it. A warning.
Lawliss touches my thigh under the table, a subtle, grounding gesture. I close my eyes briefly, letting the warmth of her touch settle my rising irritation. I don’t like it when she’s disrespected. I don’t like it when he speaks to either of us like we don’t own this damn room. I won’t tolerate it.
I open my eyes and stand, buttoning my suit jacket.
