After My Groom Gave Me to His Business Partner

The message arrived while I was having breakfast with Elijah. My phone buzzed with Caden's name, and I nearly dropped it when I saw his text:

*Meet me at the office in an hour. Come alone. Your father's company has vulnerabilities I'd hate to expose.*

I set the phone down, my appetite vanishing. Elijah looked up from his cereal, his eyes questioning.

"Bad news?" he asked simply.

"Just business," I lied, forcing a smile.

---

Caden's office felt colder than I remembered. He stood by the window, his back to me, a tumbler of amber liquid in his hand despite the early hour.

"You're drinking again," I observed.

He turned slowly, his eyes bloodshot. "You came."

"You didn't give me much choice."

"Always the victim, aren't you?" He moved closer, his voice dropping to that intimate tone that once made my heart race. "I remember more now, Zelda."

I stiffened. "What are you talking about?"

"The fire." He reached for my hand, but I stepped back. "I remember... someone pulling me out. Someone with burns on their back."

The air between us charged with tension. This was the moment I'd waited for—acknowledgment, perhaps even apology.

"Was it you?" he demanded, his fingers curling into fists. "Did you save me that night?"

I studied his face—the face I'd loved since childhood, now twisted with suspicion and something else... fear?

"Why does it matter now?" I asked quietly.

"Because if it was you—" His voice broke. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Would you have believed me?" I countered. "Or would Phoebe have convinced you I was lying?"

His expression hardened. "Just answer the question."

I met his gaze steadily. "The truth was always there, Caden. You just chose Phoebe's lies."

I turned to leave, but he grabbed my wrist.

"You can't walk away from me," he hissed.

"I already did," I replied, pulling free. "When you handed me to Elijah."

---

"Are you sure you don't want to stay home?" I asked Elijah as we climbed into my car. "I can drop you at the library on my way to the meeting."

He shook his head firmly. "I'm coming with you."

Something in his tone—unexpected determination—made me study him more closely. His eyes held a clarity I hadn't seen before.

"Is everything okay?" I asked.

"Bad people," he said simply. "I can feel them."

I laughed uneasily, starting the engine. "What do you mean?"

But Elijah's expression remained serious as we pulled onto the winding road that led through the estate grounds toward the main gate.

"Slow down," he said suddenly.

I glanced at the speedometer—we were barely moving. "We're fine, Elijah."

"No." His voice sharpened. "Stop the car."

Before I could respond, headlights flared in my rearview mirror—two cars approaching fast from behind.

"Zelda," Elijah's voice was eerily calm. "Turn left. Now."

Instinctively, I obeyed, swerving onto a narrow service road. The cars behind us skidded, trying to follow.

"They're going to hit us!" I cried, panic rising.

Elijah lunged across the console, grabbing the steering wheel. "Trust me," he whispered.

The car lurched sideways as he wrenched us off the road entirely, bumping over rough terrain before I could regain control.

Behind us, the pursuing vehicles collided with a sickening crunch of metal.

My heart pounded as I brought the car to a stop. "Elijah—"

But he was already slumped against the door, his body convulsing violently.

---

The hospital corridor seemed endless as I raced toward the emergency room. Doctors rushed past with a gurney—Elijah's small form dwarfed by the equipment surrounding him.

"Seizure," someone was saying. "Possibly triggered by adrenaline shock."

I collapsed into a waiting room chair, trembling. The attack had been so sudden, so severe. One moment he'd been saving us, the next...

"Mrs. Bennett?" A nurse approached hesitantly. "Your husband is asking for you."

I followed her into the sterile room where Elijah lay still, tubes and wires connecting him to beeping machines.

"Zelda," he whispered, his eyes finding mine.

I took his hand, squeezing gently. "I'm here."

Outside the door, I heard familiar voices—Caden's among them. I closed my eyes, focusing on Elijah's steady breathing.

"Don't leave," he murmured.

"I won't," I promised.

When I finally looked up, Caden stood in the doorway, his expression unreadable.

"How is he?" he asked, stepping into the room.

"He's stable," I replied, not releasing Elijah's hand.

Caden's gaze fixed on our intertwined fingers, his jaw tightening. "Good. That's... good."

But his eyes told a different story—calculating, cold.

"He protected me," I said quietly.

Caden's smile didn't reach his eyes. "Lucky you."

As he turned to leave, I caught something in his expression—a decision made.

"Zelda," he said at the door. "We need to talk soon. About us."

Before I could respond, he was gone.

I turned back to Elijah, who watched me with unexpected clarity.

"He wants to hurt you again," Elijah whispered.

I nodded slowly, realization dawning. "Yes," I whispered back. "But this time, I'm ready."