Chapter 9 Underhanded Move
The week after Felicia Ardent cornered me in that restaurant felt almost… normal. Almost. Which, in our world, meant the storm clouds were gathering somewhere just out of sight.
I was halfway through a strategy meeting with the digital team when Sarah slipped into the room, tablet tucked against her chest. She caught my eye and gave me the subtle “urgent but not catastrophic” look she’d perfected over the last year. I wrapped up the meeting quickly and followed her into my office.
“What’s up?” I asked, setting my folder on the desk.
“Mr McKay left you a message while you were in with the marketing team,” she said. “He said something came up and he’ll be late for dinner at your place tonight, but he’ll definitely be there.”
I couldn’t stop the smile that curved my lips.
“Of course he will,” I murmured.
Sarah’s mouth twitched knowingly. “Do you need me to push your seven o’clock?”
“No,” I said, already reaching for my phone. “I’ll handle it.”
She nodded and slipped out, closing the door behind her. I sank into my chair and pulled up Damian’s message. His voice filled the quiet office.
“Hey, Court. I’m so sorry, something popped up with the legal team. I’ll be late tonight, but I’m coming. Don’t let me starve.”
I laughed softly. I typed quickly.
Steak or pasta later?
Three dots appeared almost immediately.
Both.
I shook my head, smiling wider. Of course. Damian McKay never believed in choosing one indulgence when he could have two.
Deal, I replied. You’re doing dishes.
No response to that. Typical.
I set my phone aside and finished the last of my emails. The office buzzed around me—phones ringing, keyboards clacking, the steady rhythm of controlled chaos that came with running PR for a company under scrutiny. A few months ago, this level of pressure might have intimidated me. Now? It energized me. Felicia Ardent had made her intentions clear. Daniel Hargrove’s arrest had been a shot across the bow. And though the headlines had calmed, I knew better than to believe we were safe.
Still, tonight wasn’t about Ardent Global. Tonight was about us.
By the time I left the office, the sky was already deepening into early evening. I headed straight to the grocery store, mentally planning the menu. Damian’s favorite cut of steak—thick, marbled, seared perfectly medium-rare. Garlic butter. Roasted asparagus. And a creamy pasta on the side, because apparently we were feeding an entire hockey team. I grabbed a bottle of red wine too. Just in case the night required something stronger.
The grocery store was calm, fluorescent lights humming overhead. I moved through the aisles efficiently, checking items off my list. It felt grounding. Ordinary.
Normal. No corporate espionage. No veiled threats from redheaded CEOs. Just me debating between two brands of parmesan.
I paid, loaded the bags into my trunk, and slid into the driver’s seat. The air inside the car was cool, faintly scented with leather and the vanilla air freshener I’d insisted on. I started the engine and reached for my phone just as it began to ring.
Damian. I smiled as I answered, setting it on speaker.
“Hey. I just got the good steak. You better appreciate this.”
There was a brief pause on the other end.
“Court.”
His tone made me sit up straighter.
“What’s wrong?”
“I wanted to give you a heads up,” he said carefully. “Daniel Hargrove was released on bail this afternoon.”
My grip tightened on the steering wheel.
“What?”
“The police froze his accounts to prevent him from leaving the country,” Damian continued. “But his lawyers managed to secure bail. He’s out.”
A cold ripple slid down my spine.
“Already?”
“Yes.”
I exhaled slowly, forcing my voice to stay steady. “Okay.”
“Courtney,” he said gently, “I need you to be very careful when you’re out alone.”
I swallowed.
“You think he’d—”
“I don’t know what he’d do,” Damian interrupted quietly. “He’s desperate. Humiliated. And he made it clear he blames me.”
“And by extension,” I said softly, “me.”
A pause.
“Yes.”
I leaned back in my seat, staring out through the windshield at the parking lot.
“I’m fine,” I said. “I promise. I’m heading home now. Straight there. Doors locked.”
“Text me when you get in.”
“I will.”
“And Court?”
“Yeah?”
“I mean it. Be careful.”
His voice wasn’t commanding. It was protective. It wrapped around me like armor.
“I’ve got this,” I said softly. “And I’ve got you. Remember?”
A faint exhale on the other end. “Always.”
I shifted the car into drive and pulled out of the parking space.
“I got your favorite steak cut,” I added lightly, trying to lift the mood. “The good one.”
“Medium-rare?”
“Obviously.”
“And pasta?”
“Creamy. With too much garlic.”
He chuckled quietly. “I love you.”
My chest warmed.
“I love you too. Now hurry up and finish saving the corporate world so you can come over and eat it.”
He laughed. I turned onto the highway, merging into the steady flow of evening traffic. The sky had darkened fully now, streetlights flickering on one by one.
“I should only be another hour,” he said. “Maybe less.”
“I’ll have everything ready,” I replied.
I adjusted the rearview mirror absently, checking the lane behind me. Headlights. Just another car. Nothing unusual.
“I’ll light the candles,” I teased.
“You’re spoiling me.”
“You deserve it.”
As I moved into the left lane, the car behind me shifted too. I didn’t think much of it. Traffic was light but steady. A few vehicles passed in the opposite direction, their headlights streaking by.
“Court?” Damian said suddenly. “You still there?”
“Yeah, I’m just merging—”
That’s when I saw it. A pair of headlights in the oncoming lane. Too bright. Too close. They weren’t moving past. They were drifting. No. Not drifting. Crossing. My heart slammed against my ribs.
“Damian,” I said sharply.
The headlights swung fully into my lane. Blinding. White-hot.
“What’s wrong?” he demanded.
“Heads up—” I gasped.
The other vehicle was coming straight at me. No swerve. No correction. Straight. Time fractured. I slammed my foot onto the brake pedal as hard as I could. The tires screamed against the asphalt. The steering wheel vibrated violently under my grip. The world narrowed to those headlights barreling toward me.
“Courtney!” Damian shouted through the speaker.
I tried to jerk the wheel to the right. There wasn’t enough space. Not enough time. Metal met metal in an explosion of sound. The impact was catastrophic. A deafening crunch. Glass shattering.
The airbag detonated in front of me with brutal force, stealing the breath from my lungs. Pain shot through my chest as my head snapped back, then forward. The car spun. Or maybe the world did. Everything was noise and light and violent motion. My phone flew from the console. The engine roared and then died. Silence didn’t come immediately. It faded in slowly, ringing in my ears like a high-pitched scream that wouldn’t stop.
I tasted blood. The air smelled like smoke and burned rubber. For a moment, I couldn’t move. I couldn’t think. Then—
Pain. Sharp. Radiating through my ribs and down my left arm. I tried to inhale and a strangled sound left my throat. The world tilted sideways. My car. It wasn’t upright. It had spun partially onto the shoulder, crumpled at the front like crushed paper. Somewhere in the distance, I heard voices. Car doors slamming. Someone shouting. I blinked, trying to focus. My vision swam.
Headlights from stopped vehicles cast erratic shadows across the shattered windshield.
Damian. My phone. Where—
A faint crackling sound came from somewhere near the passenger seat.
“…Courtney?”
His voice. Distorted. Distant. But there.
“I’m here,” I tried to say. It came out as barely a whisper. My chest burned with every breath.
“I’m here,” I forced again, louder this time.
Tears blurred my vision. Not from fear. From frustration. From shock. Sirens wailed in the distance. Growing louder. Closer. My hands trembled as I tried to reach for the phone, but my body refused to cooperate. Everything felt heavy. Too heavy.
The last thing I saw before darkness crept in at the edges of my vision was a figure running toward my car— And the flashing red and blue lights reflecting off twisted metal. Then the world slipped away.