Page 33 of Fallen Heir
If she did—I’d be there in minutes. She was still inside.
But I had no idea what was happening behind that door.
I didn’t think she’d run. But I wasn’t sure either.
I still couldn’t shake the way she looked when she came out of that bathroom. Like something had gutted her from the inside out.
Was it fear? Recognition? Or guilt?
I didn’t know how much she knew. I wanted to believe she was innocent. That the scar, the silence, the panic wasn’t part ofsome deeper deception. But shehadused the money. And she hadn’t told me everything. Hell, she hadn’t told meanything.
And I was watching her. Tracking her. Monitoring every camera feed like I had a right to.
I told myself it was for her safety. That I was protecting her. But sometimes—just for a second—I wondered if I was no better than the monster she was running from.
I blew out a slow breath, jaw locked tight.
The only thing I knew for certain?
Tomorrow morning, I’d be sitting at her desk when she walked into that office.
And whether she was ready or not…She was going to give me answers.
I just needed to see how far I could push before she broke.
Chapter 13
Savannah
The alarm was distant. Muffled. Muted. Like it was coming from underwater.
It took me a second—maybe longer—to realize it was mine, buzzing from somewhere behind me, steady and relentless.
I blinked. The tile beneath me was icy against my skin. My cheek ached from the pressure of lying there too long, and my body throbbed in protest. I’d fallen. Or collapsed. I wasn’t sure.
My arms trembled as I pushed myself up, shards of memory slicing back in sharp, staggered lashes.
I’d had two panic attacks that I knew of—full-body collapses that left me breathless, shaking, and drained. The memories came back to me vividly. Every time I tried to calm down, his face would appear.
Alex.
That smug grin. The sound of his voice curling around threats. I could still smell his breath. Still feel the grime of his finger trailing down my skin like poison.
He was the only one who showed up to the house after my parents died. The only one who saw me bruised, bloodied, too broken to sit upright.
And what did he do?
He laughed. Said when Bruce got finished with me, I’d be “damaged goods.” No good for anyone.
I knew even then that he was worse than Bruce.
Bruce hit me. Broke my ribs. Laughed when I cried. But Alex? He cut deeper—with words that felt like prophecy. Because in the end, who would ever want someone like me?
Scared. Broken. Ruined.
I had reached for my phone. For the first time in what felt like forever, I wanted someone there.
Millie.
