Chapter 194

Chapter 194

Olivia's POV

The verdict on Ethan came fast. What he'd done was enough to lock him up for life.

Of course, if his family had enough pull, he could get out.

The catch was that Owen had to be willing to step in.

The company's front doors swung open, and Owen walked straight toward Ethan, worry written all over his face.

Grief hung on him like a scent, and in that instant, I knew all my anxiety had been pointless. Owen wasn’t going to leave him.

"Do you want to go say something?" Damien's rough voice came from behind me, and I froze for a few seconds before lifting my head.

Owen's eyes met mine across the distance.

What happened to the company wasn't entirely on me, but I wasn't blameless either. Not acknowledging him at all felt wrong.

But if I went over there, what would I even say? Owen might think I was rubbing it in.

I gave Owen a quick nod from where I stood, then turned and wrapped my fingers around Damien's wrist. "No. There's no point. Let's just go."

Damien looked like he wanted to argue, but when I insisted, he led me away from the building.

We'd barely reached the entrance when he stopped short and turned back to me, like something had caught in his throat.

I patted the back of his hand, urging him to say it.

Damien hesitated, then spoke in a low voice. "There's something I need to handle inside. You take the car behind mine. Keep in touch the whole way, and if anything feels off, you call me immediately."

The way he kept repeating himself told me exactly why he'd gone tense.

Since the pregnancy announcement hit the media, the family elders had been showing up nonstop, and a few times they'd walked straight into the villa like they owned it.

I'd never sat in on those conversations, but every time they left, Damien would be wound so tight it was like the air around him crackled.

I didn't know what they wanted. I only knew Damien believed he could deal with it.

I reached up and brushed the edge of his ear with my fingertips, smiling to steady him. "Relax. Nothing's going to happen. It's barely a ten-minute drive."

Damien checked the time, guilt flashing across his face. "I'm sorry, I was supposed to take you to your prenatal appointment today, but a meeting came up at the last minute."

There was no way I'd let him blow off a company meeting just to sit beside me in a waiting room, so I squeezed his hand to reassure him.

Then I got into the car under his lingering, uneasy stare.

At first, the car followed right behind Damien's, but once he went back into the company building, something about the ride started to feel off.

The scenery outside the window blurred by too fast, street signs I didn't recognize flashing past, and I finally asked, "Is this the way back to the villa?"

I made a point of studying the driver's face. I remembered him. He was definitely one of Damien's people.

That should've meant I was safe, but if I wasn't mistaken, this wasn't the route we usually took.

At my question, the driver gave a crooked half-smile, his voice shaky. "There's a shortcut. If we go this way, we'll get there faster."

Something about him was off. I glanced toward the rear window. No one was tailing us.

I didn't hesitate. "Take the usual route."

His hands paused on the steering wheel, a clear stutter in his movements, and then he nodded slowly.

A few minutes later, the road finally curved into something familiar.

But not long after that, he changed direction again.

A chill ran over my skin. I told myself not to overthink it, but as I opened my mouth to ask what he was doing, he looked back at me, trembling so hard that his words almost broke apart.

"Ms. Spencer, I don't want to do this. I've been with Mr. Costello for years. This is the first time I've ever..." He swallowed. "Please don't blame me."

That told me enough.

I looked behind us. His driving was good, too good, and at some point, he'd shaken the other car like it was nothing.

Without giving anything away, I turned on my phone's location sharing. It was a long shot, but I was out of better options.

I caught his eyes in the rearview mirror. He dropped his gaze, ashamed, and fear made his hands shake harder.

I cleared my throat and kept my voice firm. "Give me a reason."

Whether I blamed him or not was one thing. I needed to know why.

His eyes were bloodshot when he looked at me through the mirror again. It was a long moment before he finally forced the words out.

"They took my daughter," he said, voice breaking. "Those beasts… they took my daughter."

The weight that had been pressing on my heart dropped all at once.

So I'd been right. Someone had leverage on him.

I sank back into the seat, a heavy helplessness pressing down on my chest.

The rough swaying of the car sent a sharp ache through my lower abdomen.

I curled in on myself, instinctively shielding my stomach, trying to ease the pain as much as I could.

Maybe he saw how pale I'd gone in the mirror, because he glanced back again, panicked. "Ms. Spencer, maybe you should—"

He didn't get to finish.

My phone rang.

Damien's voice came through, low and sharp with accusation. "Why aren't you here yet?"

He thought I was headed to my appointment. I grabbed at the sound of him like it was a lifeline. "The car's been rerouted. Damien, help me."

I didn't even get the last word out before the car jerked sharply to the right, and my phone slipped from my fingers, bouncing onto the seat.

I snapped, irritation cutting through my fear. "What the hell are you doing? My phone fell. You didn't see that?"

He muttered an apology, but he didn't explain, and he didn't slow down.

I understood the message without him saying it. If he didn't deliver me, his daughter was probably dead.

I sat very still, quiet enough that it felt like I'd stopped breathing.

Every so often, he checked the mirror, like he was afraid I'd collapse in the backseat.

I lowered my head, conserving strength, waiting for a chance to run.

My eyes searched the passing streets for something, anything, that could give me an excuse to make him stop.

Just as I was about to speak, two brand-new cars shot out in front of us, blocking the road.

I couldn't see the drivers clearly, but I knew.

It had to be Damien.

The impact came fast.

Metal screeched, the front of our car crumpling in on itself, and then everything lurched to a stop.

The car was mangled, but by some miracle, I wasn't hurt.

The driver wasn't as lucky. He looked terrible, blood staining his clothes, his face slack with pain.

Damien strode up to my door. He lifted one hand, and more than a dozen medical staff rushed forward, surrounding me in a tight circle.

I tried to say something to Damien, but he didn't even look at me. He gave a sharp gesture, ordering the doctors to take me away.

Before they could load me into another vehicle, I forced out one sentence. "His daughter was taken."

Damien and the driver both looked up at me.

I pretended not to notice the driver's desperate stare, and I turned away.

I didn't know what Damien said to him after that.

When Damien finally got into the car with me, the smell of blood clung to him so strongly it made my stomach twist.

I grabbed his wrist, and was about to ask what he'd done to the driver, when my nausea surged.

Then pain hit—low in my belly, and sharp between my legs.

I couldn't even hold onto Damien anymore before I felt a sudden rush of heat.

I looked up, already too weak to speak properly. "The baby," I rasped. "My baby."