After His Fiancée Paid to End My Life

The pharmacy's fluorescent lights made everything look harsh and clinical as I studied the labels on children's medications. Boone's asthma had been acting up again, and I needed to refill his prescription before it became a problem.

"Zyrtec, children's dosage," I murmured, reaching for the box.

Something prickled at the back of my neck—that familiar sensation of being watched. I glanced toward the store windows, catching a reflection of a man in a dark sedan parked across the street. He wasn't trying to hide.

"Damn it," I whispered, quickly grabbing the medication and heading to the checkout counter.

Clay's voice came through my earpiece. "Palmer, you've got a tail. Black sedan, two occupants. Same ones from yesterday."

"I see them." I paid quickly, keeping my movements casual despite the ice forming in my veins. "They're getting bold."

"Bold is dangerous," Clay replied. "I'm three minutes out."

I slipped on my sunglasses as I exited the pharmacy, heading toward the parking garage instead of my usual street route. The concrete structure would provide better cover, more exits.

The sound of footsteps echoed behind me as I reached my car. Not Clay's measured steps—someone else.

"Shopping for children's medication?" August's voice sliced through the garage's damp air.

I spun around, clutching my purse tighter. "What are you doing here?"

"Following my wife." He stepped closer, his expensive cologne reaching me before he did. "Interesting purchases for someone who claims our son is dead."

My heart hammered against my ribs. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Don't lie to me, Palmer." His voice dropped dangerously low as he closed the distance between us. "Who are you buying that for?"

"Back off, August." I retreated until my car stopped me. "You lost the right to ask questions about my life."

"Everything about you is my business." His hand slammed against the car door beside my head. "Is he mine? Are you hiding our child?"

Panic surged through me—not just fear, but pure primal terror. He couldn't know. He couldn't take Boone.

"Clay!" I called out, knowing he was close.

August's face contorted with rage. "You think this thug can protect you from me?"

"He can protect me from you." Clay's voice came from behind August, calm but carrying lethal promise.

August spun around just as Clay grabbed his shoulder, spinning him back and slamming him against the car.

"Touch her again," Clay said quietly, "and I'll break your fingers."

---

The apartment felt like a cage as I paced the living room, August's accusations echoing in my mind. *Is he mine? Are you hiding our child?*

The walls seemed to close in. I could still hear the loan sharks' threats, still feel the knife pressed against my belly when they'd found out I was pregnant.

*Pay up or we take the baby.*

*Dead women can't protect their children.*

The room tilted sideways as my lungs seized. I couldn't breathe. Couldn't think.

"Palmer!" Clay's voice seemed distant as darkness edged my vision.

Strong arms guided me to the couch. "Head between your knees. Breathe with me."

I followed Clay's instructions mechanically, my body shaking uncontrollably.

"They're going to find him," I choked out. "They always find everything."

"No one's taking him." Clay's voice was steel wrapped in velvet. "Not while I'm breathing."

Slowly, the panic receded, leaving me hollow and exposed. Clay stayed beside me, his presence solid and real.

"I can't lose him," I whispered.

"I know." Clay's hand found mine, warm and steady. "I can't lose either of you."

Something in his words made me look up. The intensity in his dark eyes stole my breath—not with fear this time, but with something far more dangerous.

"I've carried dead friends," he said quietly. "Watched people I cared about die because I couldn't protect them. I won't let that happen to you or Boone."

"Clay..." My voice broke as he cupped my face gently.

"I love you," he said simply. "Both of you. I'd burn this city down before I let anyone hurt you."

Before I could respond, his lips found mine—gentle at first, then with growing urgency as I kissed him back. The taste of him, the feel of his hands tangling in my hair, erased everything else.

For the first time in years, I wasn't Novah or Palmer or anyone else's creation. I was just a woman being held by someone who saw her worth.

---

"Novah." Lilith's voice crackled through my phone as I reviewed security footage in my office. "August is here. He's got photos."

My blood turned to ice. "Photos of what?"

"Of a child. A boy."

The world stopped spinning. "Where?"

"VIP section. He's waiting."

I found him lounging in my private suite, a manila envelope tossed carelessly on the table between us.

"Hello, Palmer." His smile was triumphant as he pushed the envelope toward me. "I believe you have something that belongs to me."

With trembling fingers, I opened the envelope and pulled out a glossy photograph.

Boone's face looked back at me from the playground of his preschool, his features unmistakably August's—the same stubborn chin, the same confident smile.

"Father's rights," August said softly, "are remarkably difficult to deny when the resemblance is this obvious."

The photograph slipped from my numb fingers as August leaned forward, his eyes gleaming with victory.

"Hello, Daddy," he whispered.