Chapter 131

Edward POV

I stood at my office window, rolling a Mont Blanc pen between my fingers, my mind replaying last night's conversation with Vera Parker.

"My father was desperate. My mother is dying, Edward."

The words echoed in my head as I tapped the pen against the glass. Something about Vera's story didn't add up. Richard Parker orchestrating Anna's abduction? It seemed both excessive and sloppy—neither of which matched the calculating businessman I knew.

My intercom buzzed, pulling me from my thoughts.

"Mr. Frost, the quarterly reports are ready for your review," my assistant's voice announced.

I pressed the button. "Send James in."

The door opened moments later. James entered with his usual efficiency, tablet in hand. He'd been my right hand for five years—long enough to read my moods better than most.

"The Asian markets closed up three percent," he began, but stopped when I raised my hand.

"I need you to arrange something," I said, my voice deliberately even. "Contact our legal team. I want Anna Parker released on bail."

James paused, his expression carefully neutral. "Which team, sir? Donovan's?"

"Yes. Whatever it takes. I want this done as quickly as possible."

He made a note on his tablet, then hesitated. "How quickly should we aim for, sir?"

"As soon as possible. Money is no object." My fingers drummed against the polished surface of my desk, betraying the urgency I was trying to conceal.

James nodded. "I'll make it happen." He took a step toward the door, then stopped. "You know, sir... I think Miss Parker would appreciate knowing you're helping her."

I looked up sharply. "That's irrelevant."

"Is it?" James shifted his weight. "If I may speak freely... you still care about her. That much is obvious."

"Your observation is noted."

"Sometimes," James continued, undeterred by my cold tone, "being honest about feelings can save a lot of grief. When two people don't communicate, they both end up hurting."

I fixed him with an unreadable stare. "Just make the arrangements, James."

He nodded, respecting the boundary I'd drawn. As he turned to leave, his phone vibrated. He checked the screen, then looked up with renewed urgency.

"Sir, the hospital just contacted us. George Wilson is awake."

My pen stilled. Wilson was conscious—which meant he could talk. My chair scraped against the floor as I stood abruptly, reaching for my jacket.

"Tell Jenkins to bring the car around," I ordered, feeling a surge of purpose. "I'm going to speak with Wilson personally."

"Should I notify the lawyers to meet you there?"

"No." I buttoned my jacket with practiced precision. "This needs to be handled... discreetly."

"Do you expect complications?" James asked carefully.

"I'm going to get evidence that Richard Parker orchestrated this entire scheme." My voice hardened as I added, "If it's true, I'll make sure he spends the rest of his life in prison."

The elevator ride to the lobby felt interminable. I checked my watch twice, calculating how quickly I could reach Presbyterian Hospital from Midtown. The thought of Anna sitting in a cell while her father schemed behind the scenes made my jaw clench involuntarily.

---

Jenkins had the car idling at the curb when I emerged from the building. I slid into the back seat, already focused on my plan. James joined me, immediately pulling up information on his tablet.

"Wilson is on the third floor, general recovery ward," he reported. "Police have stationed an officer outside his room."

"Call Dr. Levinson," I instructed. "I want Wilson moved to the VIP wing immediately."

James looked up from his screen. "Sir, that might attract police attention. He's technically in custody while recovering."

"I don't care. Handle it." My tone left no room for discussion. "Tell Levinson it's a personal favor to me."

I turned to stare out the window as we merged into traffic, watching rain begin to speckle the glass. Somewhere across the city, Anna was confined in a holding cell. The thought clenched something in my chest—an unfamiliar sensation I refused to examine too closely.

"Have the lawyers made any progress with her release?" I asked, keeping my voice even.

"They're filing the paperwork now. Judge Harmon is presiding—he's generally favorable to bail requests."

"Good." I continued watching the city blur past, forcing myself to focus on strategy rather than the tightness in my throat when I thought of Anna alone and afraid.

Twenty minutes later, we pulled into the hospital's private entrance. Dr. Levinson met us in the underground parking garage, his expression tense.

"Mr. Frost, we've moved the patient as requested, but I should warn you—the police aren't happy about it."

"I'll take full responsibility." I adjusted my cufflinks. "Is he conscious?"

"Yes, though still medicated for pain. He's stable enough for questioning."

"Perfect." I nodded to James. "Wait here. This won't take long."

---

The private room on the top floor was a stark contrast to the general ward—spacious, quiet, with large windows overlooking the Hudson River. George Wilson looked pathetic against the crisp white sheets, his complexion gray, a bandage visible beneath his hospital gown.

I stood at the foot of his bed, taking in the man who had once terrorized Anna as a teenager. He was smaller than I'd imagined, with close-cropped hair and the weathered face of someone who'd lived hard. His eyes widened with recognition and fear when he saw me.

"Ed-Edward. Where am I?" he stammered, trying to shift his position and wincing in pain.

"I see Anna still has good aim," I remarked coldly. "She could have killed you if she'd wanted to."

His eyes darted toward the door, looking for escape. "What do you want?"

"Information." I moved closer, my voice dropping. "And you're going to give it to me."

"I don't have to tell you anything," he protested weakly.

I leaned in, close enough to see the sweat beading on his forehead. "Let me be clear. You'll answer my questions truthfully, or I'll make what Anna did to you feel like a paper cut. Who sent you to find her?"

He swallowed hard, fingers clutching at the sheet. "You can't threaten me. I'll call security."

"Go ahead." I gestured to the call button just beyond his reach. "But consider this—after what you've done to Anna, both recently and years ago, do you really think anyone would question if something... unfortunate happened to you?"

His face paled further. "Please... I was just following orders. After what happened last time, I was going straight, I swear."

"Whose orders?" I pressed, voice dangerously quiet.

"It was Richard's daughter," he blurted out, eyes wide with panic. "Vera. Vera Parker found me, said they needed Anna for a bone marrow transplant for her mother. Said I could do whatever I wanted with Anna afterward... that no one would care."

I slapped him hard across the face before I could stop myself. "You disgusting piece of shit. You think you could touch her? After what you did before?"

"I'm sorry! I know I was wrong!" He cowered, hand pressed to his reddening cheek. "Please, I never meant to hurt her again, I swear!"

"So it was Vera, not Richard?" I asked, skepticism evident in my tone.

"Yes! I swear it was her." His words tumbled out desperately. "She's the one who paid me to follow Anna months ago too—to expose her at that restaurant when she was having dinner with that guy. It was all Vera's idea."

I stared at him, processing this new information. Vera had been behind the tabloid photos of Anna and Matthew Quinn? The timeline matched up—it had happened shortly before our divorce.

"You're claiming Richard Parker had nothing to do with this?"

Wilson hesitated, and I saw a flash of calculation in his eyes. "Well, I... I never spoke directly to him. It was always Vera."

"I see." I straightened, adjusting my tie. "Here's what's going to happen. When you get to court, you're going to repeat everything you just told me. Every detail. If you do that, maybe you'll get a deal as a witness. If you don't..." I let the threat hang in the air.

"Vera will kill me if she finds out I talked," he whispered.

"That's the least of your concerns." I smiled without warmth. "Because if you don't cooperate, I'll ensure you face the maximum sentence. And believe me, prison is full of men who particularly dislike those who prey on young women."

His face crumpled in defeat. "I'll tell them everything. Just... protect me from Vera. She's not what she seems."

"No," I agreed, "she certainly isn't."

---

The afternoon sun broke through the clouds as I exited the hospital, casting harsh light across the wet pavement. I stood for a moment, processing what I'd learned. George's revelation about Vera turned everything upside down. She had orchestrated the entire scheme—not just Anna's abduction, but possibly the tabloid scandal that had contributed to our divorce.

So George Wilson has been Vera's puppet from the beginning. She was willing to hurt her own sister like this?

The sweet, innocent image Vera had maintained—the injured party when Anna took her place as my bride—had been nothing but a carefully crafted performance.

My fist clenched involuntarily. I had believed her, had felt sympathy for her. Meanwhile, Anna had suffered alone, fighting off her childhood abuser for the second time.

I pulled out my phone and dialed James.

"Speed up the bail process," I instructed the moment he answered. "Use whatever connections we have. And arrange for me to see Anna tomorrow."

"Yes, sir. Anything else?"

I glanced back at the hospital building, thinking of Wilson cowering in his bed. "Have security assigned to Wilson's room. No visitors except medical personnel—especially not Vera Parker."

"Understood. And sir? The lawyers think they can have Miss Parker released by tomorrow evening."

"Good." I ended the call and slid into the waiting car, a new resolve hardening within me.

Anna deserved justice—not just from George Wilson, but from the Parker family that had used and betrayed her repeatedly. I had failed to protect her before. I wouldn't make that mistake again.