Page 95 of Fallen Heir
But I had something better.
I had a reason.
And if I didn’t move—if I didn’tdo something—I was going to lose him. So I acted.
Jaxson didn’t move, but he didn’t need to. He felt me. The shift in the air. The weight of my presence around him. My body sensed it as if he was a part of it.
"Savannah, leave," he said, voice sharp and final. Not angry—commanding. It was the tone of a man who didn’t beg, didn’t plead. The kind of tone carved by war and loss. A warning wrapped in protection. He wasn’t trying to be brave. He was trying to shield me.
But I wasn’t leaving.
"Bruce," I said, ignoring the sting in my throat and the fire in my ribs.
Bruce laughed, dry and knowing, never taking his eyes off Jaxson. "You should know," he said with a smirk, "she doesn’t like to obey."
They stood locked in a stare that crackled with fury. No words passed between them now—only years of buried secrets and unfinished wars they didn’t even know they were in.
"Bruce," I said again, my voice a little louder this time. I moved closer, careful to stay just out of reach. They were only feet ahead of me now. I could see the twitch in Bruce’s jaw. The tremble in his hand. The way his finger flirted with the trigger.
"Bruce, if you kill him… and me… you’ll never get the money."
That made him flinch. Just slightly. A slight tick in his jaw.
"If you die," he growled, eyes still locked on Jaxson, "I get all of it, you bitch."
"No," I said, steadier this time. I summoned every ounce of conviction I had left. "No, you won’t. Because I already moved it. I put everything into another trust."
Silence. Heavy. Electric.
"Bullshit," he snarled, voice cracking like glass under pressure. He looked feral, chest heaving, sweat dripping down his temple.
"I’m not lying," I said, forcing the words past the lump in my throat. "I went to a gala not long ago. For survivors of domestic abuse. Friday, I made the decision. I donated everything. Every cent. Gone."
He didn’t breathe. Didn’t blink.
I kept pressing. Pushing his limits. "The only way you’re going to see a dime of it is if he lives," I said, gesturing to Jaxson with my eyes. "He’s the only one who can reverse the transaction."
And I prayed Jaxson would understand.
Because nothing I’d said was true. It was all pretend. And I needed him to play pretend with me. We had become so good at it, maybe we could do it just one last time.
The charity belonged to him. The donation never happened. It was a lie. A gamble.
But Jaxson knew me well enough to play the hand.
"She’s not lying," Jaxson said, voice cold, clear. "My foundation received an anonymous donation."
Bruce narrowed his eyes.
"It was in the billions." Jaxson didn’t need to say more. His truth was in those few words.
The silence that followed was deafening.
Bruce didn’t move. Neither did Jaxson. But the hand holding the gun shifted.
Not toward Jaxson.
Toward me.
