Her Body, The Tycoon's Shield

I died at twenty-six.

My husband, Bowen Caldwell—chief security advisor for the Hawthorne Group—leaked our location to a human trafficking ring on the Mexican border. He did it to appease his “delicate” ex-girlfriend, and he did it on the day I went into labor.

"Caspian has so many bodyguards! Why did you have to drag me back here?" he had roared over the phone, his voice laced with venom. "If it weren't for you, Savannah and I would never have lost our child in that crash! I hope you and your baby suffer a thousand times more than she ever did!"

I could never forget his cold curse before the line went dead, nor the despair of being tortured to death alongside my newborn in that dark, filthy basement.

When I opened my eyes again, I was reborn on that fateful night—the moment Caspian Hawthorne, head of the Hawthorne Group, was targeted by a car bomb outside the annual charity gala.

This time, Bowen had once again abandoned his post to play hero for his lover, Savannah Reed, using his authority to dismiss Caspian's entire security detail.

On my phone screen, the emergency app that could summon him directly was flashing.

This time, I didn't press it.

Eight months pregnant, I ignored the risk and plunged through the screaming crowd. I threw myself at the man standing oblivious by his car, tackling Caspian to the ground just as the world erupted in fire. My body was his shield.

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1

"There's a bomb! Get Mr. Hawthorne!"

A scream ripped through the New York night.

As a car hurtled toward the barricades, primed to explode, a primal fear made me recoil.

The memory of being tortured to death with my child in that hellish basement was seared into my very soul. As chaos from the gala's entrance washed over me, the phantom pain was so visceral it stole my breath.

I was reborn. Thirty seconds before Caspian Hawthorne was meant to die.

Shaking off the terror, I laid a protective hand on my swollen belly. My baby was alive. There was still time.

In the heart of the chaos, I deleted the emergency alert app from my phone—my direct line to my husband.

With Bowen having pulled away all the core bodyguards, Caspian was now utterly exposed, a defenseless target in the stampeding crowd.

The car, laden with explosives, was barreling straight for him. A red countdown timer flashed from the driver's seat.

Without a second thought, I sprinted forward, my body a desperate shield, and tackled Caspian behind the solid frame of a limousine.

A moment later, a deafening blast tore through the air.

A wave of heat and metal shrapnel slammed into my back. The immense impact sent me sprawling, and an excruciating pain shot through my spine as if it were shattering.

"Cough, cough…" I choked, blood trickling from the corners of my mouth, staining the front of my gown.

Then, as Caspian stared in stunned silence, I twisted my body to intercept a flying piece of wreckage meant for him.

"Be… careful…" I gasped. "The Group… can't lose you…"

I watched the shock in his deep, gray eyes morph into a raw gratitude I had never seen before. In that instant, I knew my gamble had paid off.

My husband, Bowen Caldwell, was a security advisor the Hawthorne family had spent a fortune to train. He was supposed to be glued to Caspian's side.

Yet, during today's attack, Bowen was nowhere in sight.

All because his one true love, Savannah Reed, had wept over the phone, claiming she felt like she was being followed and needed to go to Fifth Avenue to calm her nerves. So, like a love-struck fool, Bowen had not only abandoned his post but had redeployed the entire security team to be her personal guard.

In my past life, I had been so worried about Bowen facing the Hawthornes' wrath that I’d frantically pressed the alert and called him back.

He was reprimanded, but because he returned just in time, his position was saved. He was even entrusted with more responsibility.

My reward? He called me vain and blamed me for Savannah's miscarriage. He was the one who condemned my child and me to hell.

Since God had granted me a second chance, I swore I would never let history repeat itself.

When the roar of the explosion faded, we were left in a smoldering field of wreckage. Burning car parts littered the ground around us. Because I had taken the brunt of the blast, Caspian had only minor injuries.

Just then, the wail of sirens finally cut through the night. Police swarmed the area, weapons raised, and sealed off the block.

The immediate crisis was over.

But I felt the frantic fluttering in my womb slow, then cease. Warm, sticky blood gushed from the wound on my back and streamed from between my legs, soaking my evening gown. I shivered uncontrollably as my life drained out of me.

I was eight months pregnant.

I reached out, my fingers grasping at nothing as darkness swallowed my vision and I collapsed.

Caspian caught me, his voice tight with a new panic as he yelled at his assistant, "Get a doctor! Now! Find her husband! Get him here immediately!"

I tried to speak, but more blood spilled from my mouth. Caspian showed no disgust, leaning in close to hear my faint words.

With the last of my strength, I enunciated each word. "My name is… Jocelyn. I am the wife of Chief Advisor Bowen Caldwell."