Chapter 179: ***

Avery Styles

Truman watches me for another long moment before letting out an impatient sigh. He takes another lazy drag from his cigarette before looking at the expensive watch wrapped around his wrist.

When he raises his eyes again, the amusement has disappeared completely.

"You're stalling," he says flatly. "Every second you waste is another second Ethan gets closer. If he finds this place before we're done, everything becomes unnecessarily complicated."

I tighten my grip around my stomach, trying to steady my breathing despite the panic clawing at my chest.

"Maybe that's exactly what I want," I reply quietly.

Truman lets out a dry laugh that carries no humor whatsoever. He slowly walks toward the large window overlooking the front of the house before speaking again.

"No, you don't. If Ethan gets here too early, I’ll kill every single person standing in this room. Including him. Then I’ll still find a way to recover those shares."

My throat suddenly feels unbearably dry. Before I can respond, my mother speaks through trembling sobs.

"Avery...

just sign it." Her voice is weak, broken, and desperate, barely louder than a whisper. She struggles against the ropes binding her wrists before looking directly at me with tear-filled eyes.

"Please, just do it. It's only shares. Ethan can always build another company. Don't put everyone in danger because of money."

Something inside me snaps.

I slowly turn toward her, unable to believe what I am hearing. My entire body begins trembling, not with fear this time, but with pure anger.

"Money?" I repeat, almost laughing.

"You seriously think this is about money?" My voice rises before I can stop it. "Do you even hear yourself? We are in this situation because you decided sleeping with a married man is a fantastic life choice, then decades later, you believe every ridiculous lie that same man feeds you."

"Avery..." she whispers.

"No!" I shout, my patience finally shattering. "You don't get to tell me what to sacrifice anymore. You don't get to tell me to give away something my husband entrusted to me after everything you've done." Tears blur my vision, but I refuse to let them fall. "Do you have any idea what Burton Foods means to Ethan?

Do you have any idea how hard his mother worked to build that company before she died? Ethan placed it in my hands because he believes in me. He trusts me with something that belongs to his mother, and now you're asking me to throw it away because of your disastrous decisions."

My mother's shoulders shake violently as she cries harder. Truman pinches the bridge of his nose dramatically before exhaling a cloud of smoke toward the ceiling.

"Honestly," he mutters, "I don't have the patience for a mother-daughter therapy session." He flicks the cigarette into the ashtray before clapping his hands once, drawing everyone's attention back to him. "Whether you hate each other or forgive each other is none of my concern. We have a deadline to meet."

Before anyone can say another word, a loud burst of gunfire suddenly echoes from somewhere outside.

Every person in the room freezes.

Another series of gunshots follows almost immediately, louder this time, accompanied by distant shouting that filters faintly through the walls of the house. Truman's expression changes for the first time since I met him today. The confidence remains, but irritation quickly replaces his smug satisfaction.

"Damn it," he curses under his breath.

He walks quickly toward the nearest window and pulls the curtain aside just enough to glance outside. His jaw tightens immediately.

"It seems your husband arrives sooner than I expected."

My heart leaps into my throat.

Ethan. He's here.

Relief crashes into me so suddenly that I nearly burst into tears. Every instinct inside me wants to smile, to scream his name, to believe that everything is finally over. But the feeling lasts only a second before another realization settles heavily inside my chest.

Truman.

He slowly turns away from the window, and somehow his smile returns. It is smaller now, colder than before, but no less terrifying.

"We'll simply have to speed things up."

He snaps his fingers once.

The young man who has been quietly working on his laptop the entire time immediately stands without saying a word. He walks to a nearby briefcase resting beside the coffee table, unlocks it, and removes a thick stack of legal documents. Without hesitation, he places the papers neatly on the table in front of me before producing a sleek black fountain pen.

I stare at the documents.

Even without reading them, I already know what they contain.

The transfer of my Burton Foods shares.

Truman gestures toward them casually.

"Sign."

I don't move.

He sighs.

"I really don't enjoy repeating myself."

Still, I remain frozen.

My fingers twitch slightly against my stomach as countless memories flood my mind all at once. I remember the day Ethan officially handed Burton Foods over to me, telling me he trusts me more than anyone else.

I remember spending sleepless nights rebuilding the company after Caleb's sabotage. I remember standing beside Romeo through endless meetings, solving crisis after crisis until Burton Foods finally began thriving again. I pour my heart into that company.

"I can't," I whisper.

Truman tilts his head.

"You can't?"

"I won't."

His smile disappears again.

"You should reconsider."

"It belongs to Ethan."

"And soon," he replies calmly, "it will belong to me."

"It will never belong to you."

For the first time, genuine irritation flashes across his face.

Outside, another explosion rocks the property, followed immediately by another barrage of gunfire. Someone yells instructions from somewhere beyond the walls, and I silently pray Ethan is getting closer with every passing second.

Truman hears it too.

He checks his watch again.

Then he looks back at me.

"You really are making this more difficult than necessary."

"I said no."

His patience finally runs out.

He slowly reaches inside his jacket.

For one brief second, I foolishly assume he is retrieving another document.

Instead, He pulls out a handgun.

The room instantly falls silent.

My breathing stops.

My mother's crying grows louder.

Truman lazily checks the magazine before clicking the safety off with practiced ease. He doesn't even look angry anymore. If anything, he looks bored, like a businessman forced to use unpleasant methods because negotiations fail.

"You need motivation."

"No..." I whisper.

He doesn't even acknowledge me.

Instead, he calmly turns toward my mother.

Everything happens so fast that my brain refuses to process it.

The gun rises.

A deafening bang tears through the room. My mother's scream follows almost instantly. I hear it before I fully understand what happens.

Bright red blood gushes violently from her right knee as the bullet tears straight through it. She lets out a gut-wrenching scream before collapsing sideways against the chair, her entire body shaking uncontrollably while tears stream endlessly down her face.

"Mom!" I scream. My mother sobs so violently she can barely breathe.

Tears finally spill down my own face as horror completely overwhelms me. My entire body shakes uncontrollably while my hands instinctively wrap around my stomach, protecting my baby even as I stare helplessly at the woman bleeding only a few feet away.

Truman lowers the gun and nods toward the documents resting untouched on the coffee table.

"You are still wasting time."