Chapter 28 Forty-Eight Hours to Disappear
Pierce stood outside Alfred Davis's penthouse, hands in his pockets, staring at the golden numbers on the foor.
The fifteenth floor at the corner unit. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city Alfred thought he owned.
Behind him, Marcus waited in the hallway, silent as a shadow.
Pierce pulled out his phone and dialed. It rang twice before a groggy voice answered.
"Hello?"
"Open your door, Alfred."
A pause. "Who is this?"
"You have ten seconds." Pierce said, running out of patience.
Pierce hung up and nodded to Marcus. The lock clicked. Marcus pushed the door open and stepped aside.
Pierce walked in.
The penthouse was exactly what he'd expected, expensive, cold, designed to impress. Alfred stood in the hallway in a silk robe, phone still in his hand, his face going pale when he saw Pierce.
"You," Alfred breathed.
"Me." Pierce closed the door behind him. "Nice place. Must've cost a fortune. Your brother's fortune, I'm guessing."
Alfred's jaw tightened. "Get out of my home."
"In a minute." Pierce moved into the living room. "First, we're going to talk about your niece."
"I don't know what she told you, but...."
Pierce picked up a crystal paperweight and threw it. It shattered against the wall six inches from Alfred's head, glass exploding across the marble.
Alfred shook violently. "What the hell...."
"Don't insult me by lying." Pierce's voice was quiet. "Sit down."
Alfred sat.
Pierce remained standing. "The contractor you hired. He's dead now."
Alfred's breath came faster. "I didn't..."
"Eight months ago, you made first contact. Paid him a hundred thousand upfront." Pierce's voice was cold. "The sniper two nights ago? That was him. He put a bullet through her window while she was standing three feet away."
Alfred's hands shook.
Pierce pulled a folded paper from his jacket and dropped it on the coffee table. "Sign it."
"What is it?"
"Full transfer of D'Corporation to Elena." He said coldly. "Sign it."
"I'm not...."
Pierce moved fast. One second he was across the room, the next he had Alfred by the throat, lifting him half out of the chair.
"You have two choices," Pierce said quietly. "Sign that paper and walk away. Or I kill you right now and forge your signature."
Alfred made a choking sound.
"The only reason you're breathing is because Elena asked me not to hurt you." Pierce's grip tightened. "So you get to live. For now."
He released Alfred, who collapsed back gasping.
"Sign."
Alfred's hand shook as he scrawled his signature.
Pierce took the document and crouched down eye level with him. "If you ever come near her again, if I even hear your name in the same sentence as hers... I will come back. And next time, I won't listen to what she wants."
Alfred nodded frantically.
"You have forty-eight hours to disappear." Pierce said, stepping back. "I don't care where you go. Just make sure it's far from Chicago."
Pierce left without waiting for a response.
In the elevator, Marcus glanced at him. "Think he'll run?"
"He'll run." Pierce looked at his phone. "Cowards always run when you give them the chance."
By the time Pierce made it back to Elena's apartment, the sky was just starting to lighten. He let himself in quietly, closing the door with barely a sound.
Elena was still asleep on the couch where he'd left her, curled under the blanket he'd draped over her hours ago. Her face was peaceful in sleep, all the tension smoothed away.
Pierce stood there for a long moment, just watching her breathe.
Then he moved to the chair by the window and sat down, pulling out his laptop. He didn't open it. Just sat there in the growing dawn light, the folded document in his jacket pocket, carrying the weight of what he'd done.
What he'd do again without hesitation.
Hours passed. The sun came up fully, cutting pale lines through the plywood. Pierce didn't move except to check his phone occasionally, responding to messages from his crew.
Around nine, Elena stirred.
She sat up slowly, disoriented, pushing the blanket aside. Her hair was messed up from sleep, her eyes still foggy as she looked around the apartment.
"Pierce?" Her voice came out rough.
"Here."
She turned. He watched her take in his appearance, his wrinkled shirt, the shadows under his eyes, the laptop he clearly hadn't been using.
"What time is it?" Elena asked.
"Almost nine."
"Why didn't you wake me?" She asked, surprised.
"You needed it." Pierce closed the laptop and set it aside. "Coffee's ready if you want some."
Elena moved to the kitchen, pouring herself a cup. Her hands were steadier than yesterday. "Did you sleep at all?"
"Not really."
She turned, leaning against the counter. "What happened? With Alfred."
Pierce was silent for a moment. "It's handled."
"How?"
"He won't be coming after you anymore."
Elena held his gaze. "Did you hurt him?"
"No."
"Pierce." Her tone was doubtful.
"I didn't hurt him," Pierce said evenly. "I made sure he understood what would happen if he tried again. The contract on you is canceled. The hitman is dead. Alfred won't be a problem anymore."
Elena processed that. "What did you do to make him understand?"
"What I needed to."
She wanted push or at least demand details. But all she felt was relief, and that seemed to terrify her more than anything else.
"Thank you," she said quietly.
Pierce's expression shifted. "You don't have to thank me."
"I do, though." Her voice was soft. "I asked you not to hurt him and you didn't."
They looked at each other across the small space, something unspoken passing between them.
Elena moved without thinking, crossing to where he sat. She stopped in front of him. "Can I see it?"
"See what?"
"Whatever he signed."
Pierce pulled the document from his jacket and handed it to her. Elena unfolded it, read the words, saw her uncle's shaky signature at the bottom.
Full transfer of ownership. No conditions. Effective immediately.
Her father's company was finally hers.
"He's leaving Chicago," Pierce said quietly. "I gave him forty-eight hours."
Elena's hands trembled slightly. She refolded the paper. "So it's over."
"This part is."
She looked at him. His eyes were tired but clear, watching her with something that looked almost like concern.
Pierce stood slowly, and suddenly the space between them felt too small. Elena could see the wrinkles in his shirt, the faint stubble on his jaw, the way his eyes dropped briefly to her lips before coming back to her face.
Neither of them moved.
"Elena," Pierce said, his voice rough.
"Yeah?"
He reached out, his fingers brushing her cheek, so gentle it made her chest ache.
"You should eat something," he said instead of whatever he was about to say.
Elena's breath caught. "I'm not hungry."
"You haven't eaten since yesterday."
"Neither have you."
"That's different."
"How?"
Pierce's thumb traced her cheekbone once before his hand fell away. "Because I'm used to it."
Elena wanted to close the distance. Wanted to kiss him again like she had in the bathroom. Wanted to stop thinking about consequences and just feel something other than this constant weight.
But the moment stretched too thin, and Pierce stepped back first.
"I'd offer to cook," he said, something almost like humor in his voice. "But we both know how that ends."
Elena surprised herself by laughing. "Burnt eggs and a smoke alarm?"
"Exactly."
The tension broke slightly. Elena set her coffee down. "I'll make something."
"You don't have to...."
"Sit, Pierce."
He sat and as Elena moved around the kitchen, pulling out eggs and bread, she felt the ghost of his touch still on her cheek, wondering when exactly she'd stopped being afraid of him.
And started being afraid of how much she needed him instead.