Her Body, The Tycoon's Shield

Just then, the door to the room was shoved open.

It wasn't Bowen. It was Savannah's sycophantic friend, Chloe.

The sight of her face sent a tremor of pure hatred through my body.

Chloe, however, mistook my trembling for guilt.

She was momentarily startled by my blood-soaked state, but her usual smug cruelty quickly returned. "Drop the act, Jocelyn. That prop blood looks almost real. What movie set did you steal it from?"

"Mr. Caldwell is with Savannah, and he gave explicit orders not to be disturbed. He sent me with a message."

"He said to have some self-respect and stop this."

Chloe sneered. "Bowen told me he hates being so cruel, but you force his hand. You're always so jealous, so hysterical. What will your son think when he grows up and learns his mother was a raving lunatic?"

Finished with her tirade, Chloe failed to notice the room's temperature had dropped to freezing. Caspian stood in the shadows, his back to her, emanating a suffocating, murderous rage.

Chloe didn't recognize him at all. She gestured at Caspian's blood-stained, disheveled form and scoffed, "Oh, and who's this? Did your little pity party not work, Jocelyn? Had to find some random bum off the street to make Bowen jealous? Your standards have really cratered, haven't they?"

"What do you think will happen when I tell Bowen you're cheating with some old degenerate while carrying his child? Do you want to be thrown out with nothing, or have your name dragged so thoroughly through the mud you'll have to flee New York?"

Chloe let out a triumphant laugh, certain she had me cornered.

After all, to a snob like her, the ruined man in the shadows couldn't possibly be the legendary, untouchable Caspian Hawthorne.

A cold snort cut through her laughter.

Caspian's assistant immediately stepped forward and made a call. Caspian's icy voice followed.

"Blacklist her. Notify every major agency and media outlet. I want her erased from the industry. And send her financials to the IRS, anonymously. Let her rot in a federal prison cell and think about what she did today."

Chloe's laughter died in her throat. The cold, hard reality finally slammed into her. She had just insulted the one man in New York who could make God himself step aside.

Caspian didn't even glance at the crumpled heap that was Chloe on the floor. He ordered his assistant, "Take a picture. Send it to Bowen. Tell him I want him here, now. I want to see for myself what was so important that he could ignore the fact that Ms. Hayes is dying."

I didn't miss the subtle but significant shift in how Caspian addressed me.

I was no longer "Mrs. Caldwell." I was "Ms. Hayes."

This was the result I wanted.

In Caspian's eyes, a line had been drawn. I was his savior. Bowen was a traitor awaiting judgment.

The risk had been enormous, but my bet had paid off.

I was wheeled toward the operating room.

When I regained consciousness, a nurse was gently helping me sit up.

"Ms. Hayes, the attack on Mr. Hawthorne has the entire board in an uproar. He's returned to headquarters to take command," she said in a hushed, reverent tone. "Before he left, he gave strict orders for you to rest. He said that after he deals with... that man... he will return to see you personally."