Vicious Revenge Of The Genius Ward

The air in the room turned to concrete. Keira's chest heaved violently against Hillard's weight. Her lungs burned from the lack of oxygen and the sheer, blinding rage coursing through her veins. She stared up at him, her eyes wide and unblinking. Hillard slowly released his crushing grip on her jaw. He reached into his trouser pocket, pulled out a black silk pocket square, and methodically wiped the blood from his bitten thumb. He looked down at her, his expression utterly devoid of warmth. "Is this how Elias Barnett taught his granddaughter to behave?" The sound of her grandfather's name hit Keira like a physical blow to the stomach. Her pupils dilated. The frantic struggling of her body instantly stopped, her muscles turning as rigid as stone. "Who the hell are you?" she hissed through gritted teeth, her voice trembling with a hatred so deep it scraped her throat. "Why do you know his name?" Hillard reached inside the breast pocket of his suit jacket. He pulled out a thick, folded legal document and tossed it onto the pillow next to her face. The heavy paper fell open. The gold seal of the New York State Supreme Court gleamed in the firelight. It was an absolute transfer of guardianship. Keira turned her head. Her eyes scanned the dense legal text until they locked onto the bold, black signature at the bottom. Hillard Conway was now her sole, legal guardian. A harsh, mocking laugh ripped from her throat. "So you're just another corporate dog," she spat, her chest rising and falling rapidly. "McKnight sent you to clean up the loose ends, didn't he? To lock me away so they can swallow the rest of the Barnett patents." Hillard's eyes turned to ice. He reached down and grabbed the lapels of her silk robe, hauling her upper body off the mattress until their noses were barely an inch apart. "Do not ever," he growled, his voice vibrating with a dangerous low frequency, "compare the Conway name to those bottom-feeding pharmaceutical rats." Keira didn't shrink back. She leaned into his grip, her eyes burning with a shattered, manic intensity. "I don't care what your name is. I am going to drag Jed McKnight and his entire family down to hell, even if I have to burn with them." The raw, broken desperation in her eyes hit Hillard's retinas. Suddenly, a violent, piercing pain spiked behind Hillard's eyes. The luxurious bedroom vanished. In its place, a flash of a dark room, a pool of thick crimson blood spreading across a hardwood floor, and a young girl lying motionless in the center of it. The PTSD trigger hit his nervous system like a sledgehammer. Hillard's face lost a fraction of its color. The muscles in his forearms spasmed. His grip on her robe loosened just enough, his hands trembling imperceptibly. Keira's survival instincts flared. She felt the sudden drop in his physical strength. She shoved both her hands hard against his chest, breaking his hold, and threw her body weight to the side, rolling rapidly across the massive mattress. Her bare feet hit the thick carpet. She spun around and grabbed the heavy, solid brass base of the table lamp from the nightstand, holding it up like a club, her breathing ragged. Hillard closed his eyes. He inhaled a slow, deep breath, forcing the horrific images back into the locked vault of his mind. He adjusted his platinum cufflink, the familiar, grounding motion helping him suppress the spike in his heart rate. When he opened his eyes, the cold, calculating billionaire was back. He didn't look at the brass lamp. He turned his back to her, walked over to the leather armchair by the fireplace, and sat down. He crossed his long legs, entirely reclaiming his position of absolute dominance. "I can give you the resources to find out exactly what happened in that laboratory fire," Hillard stated, his tone flat and businesslike. Keira's grip on the brass lamp faltered for a second. Her eyes narrowed in deep suspicion. "Why would you help a worthless orphan?" Hillard ignored the question. "The price," he continued, his eyes locking onto hers, "is your complete surrender. You will hand over all your freedom. You will obey my rules. You will live under my absolute authority." He gestured toward the window. "That suicidal stunt you pulled tonight with the car was pathetic. It accomplishes nothing but staining the pavement." The truth of his words hit her like a slap. Her knuckles turned white around the brass lamp. Her stomach twisted. She knew he was right. She was penniless, legally bound to him, and physically trapped. Her silver needles wouldn't bring down a billion-dollar empire. Her mind raced, the gears turning rapidly. She needed a lever. He was offering her the biggest lever in New York. Slowly, the manic fire in her eyes died down, replaced by a chilling, absolute calculation. She lowered the lamp. The heavy brass base hit the mahogany nightstand with a dull, heavy thud-the sound of her temporary surrender. She lifted her chin, staring at him. "How do I know you won't break the deal?" Hillard stood up. He walked slowly across the room, stopping right in front of her. He reached out with his right hand-the one she had bitten-and hooked a finger under a wet strand of her hair. "A Conway promise is law," he whispered, his voice dark and heavy. "But if you betray me, Keira, the consequences will be far worse than burning in a fire." Keira looked straight into his pitch-black eyes and gave a single, stiff nod. The contract was sealed.