Chapter 175
Jacob didn't look at him. He only looked at Elizabeth and walked toward her, one measured step at a time. His pace wasn't fast, but every step landed heavily on everyone's heart. He stopped in front of her and held out his hand.
"Elizabeth, come home with me."
Elizabeth stared at that hand, at the face she had been seeing in her dreams day and night, and tears rushed to her eyes in an instant. She lifted her hand, about to take his, when a gunshot cracked through the air.
Jacob whirled around and shoved Elizabeth behind him. His men snapped their guns up, aiming toward the direction of the shot.
The ballroom exploded into chaos. Guests crouched and scrambled, clutching their heads, screaming for their mothers and fathers.
But the one who fired was Sawyer.
He stood there with his arm raised, the gun still in his hand, smoke curling lazily from the muzzle. He had fired into the ceiling.
"Nobody move." His voice wasn't loud, but there was a chill in it that made people's spines go rigid.
Everyone froze.
Jacob looked at him, his hand resting on the gun at his waist, but he didn't move.
Sawyer lowered his gun and looked at Jacob, the corners of his mouth slowly tilting into a smile.
"Jacob, you finally took the bait."
"Today, I'm going to watch you die—"
Another gunshot.
Sawyer's body swayed.
He lowered his head, staring at the hole in his chest where blood poured out, then lifted his gaze toward the direction the shot came from.
There, someone was standing. Someone he never, in a million years, would have expected.
Jack.
The four-year-old boy in a tiny suit, holding a gun in both hands. Smoke still rose from the barrel. His face was expressionless, his eyes as cold as ice.
That was not a child's gaze. That was the gaze of a killer, a hunter, a beast that had been lurking in the dark for far too long and had finally bared its fangs.
Sawyer looked at him and suddenly laughed.
"You—" His voice was soft, as light as a sigh.
Jack didn't answer. He lowered the gun, walked over to Elizabeth, and took her hand. His hand was small, but steady—steady in a way that belonged to an adult, not a boy his age.
"Mom," he tilted his little face up to look at Elizabeth, his eyes curving into crescent moons, "let's go home."
Elizabeth stood there, every muscle in her body locked.
She looked at Jack—at this child she thought needed her protection, this child she thought had been sweet-talked and manipulated by Sawyer, this child she thought understood nothing. He understood everything. He knew it all.
He had been pretending the whole time.
Only that way could he stand at an angle Sawyer would never guard against and deliver a fatal shot.
This child was a sharpshooter too, every bit as lethal.
"Jack." Her voice trembled.
Jack tightened his fingers around her hand and smiled like a real little boy. "Mom, I'm very smart. Uncle Sawyer taught me archery, so I learned it. Uncle Sawyer taught me how to use a gun, so I learned that too."
He paused, his voice dropping softer. "Uncle Sawyer taught me a lot of things. I know all of it. I know Uncle Sawyer is a bad guy. He bullies you. He bullies Dad. I don't like him."
He lifted his head and looked at Sawyer, with barely any trace of regret in his eyes.
"Uncle Sawyer, I'm sorry. I lied to you."
Sawyer looked at him, the faint curve of a smile still on his mouth, but in it there was something impossible to name—not anger, not sorrow, something closer to pride, absurd as it was.
"Good boy." His voice was light, as soft as the wind.
Then his body wavered again, finally giving out, and he collapsed.
Elizabeth stayed where she was, watching Sawyer fall, watching Jack's calm little face, watching Jacob's outstretched hand.
Her mind was blank.
Jacob walked over and folded both her and Jack into his arms. "Come on. Let's go home."
Elizabeth closed her eyes and buried her face against his chest.
She could hear his heartbeat, so strong, so warm.
She could hear Jack's laughter, so clear, so innocent. She could hear the chaos behind them, more gunfire, terrified screaming.
But all of that was drifting farther and farther away from her.
Now, she could finally go home.
Sawyer's death sent shockwaves through Italy's upper class.
The official statement said he was hit by a stray bullet during a shootout and died in an accident.
Not many believed it, but no one really cared about the truth.
Sawyer had no wife, no children. He had murdered his seven brothers and sisters with his own hands. His only blood relative left in this world was Elizabeth.
His businesses, his connections, and his territory all fell into Elizabeth's hands as a matter of course.
When the news broke, the entire country was shaken.
A young woman. A foreign woman. A woman who had been in Italy for less than half a year suddenly became the owner of the Scott family's sprawling business empire overnight. Some people were jealous. Some were unconvinced. Some were eager to make a move.
It took Elizabeth three days to push all those restless people back into line.
Those files Sawyer left her—the ones she pulled out of his safe, the ones Jacob helped her gather, the ones she spent night after night studying until she knew them by heart—each one was the lifeblood of some part of the Scott family empire.
Who held shares in which company, who had been cooking the books on which project, who had been secretly colluding with whom—every last detail was laid out in black and white.
All she had to do was make a few phone calls, meet a few people, and sign a few documents.
Those who refused to accept her suddenly did. Those whose eyes burned with envy kept burning with it, but they didn't dare make a sound.
Sawyer's old subordinates came to her, their tone earnest, urging her to stay in Italy.
"Ms. Scott," they called her Ms. Scott, not Ms. Windsor, "all these assets Mr. Scott left behind need you to be here. If you leave, the people underneath will scatter."
Elizabeth sat in the study where Sawyer used to sit, listening to them with a blank expression.
Sunlight filtered through the curtains and spilled over her, bathing her in a soft halo.
She was wearing the blue dress Sawyer once picked out for her and the sapphire necklace he had given her. She looked exactly like the lady of the Scott family.
"Things from the Scott family," she began, her voice soft, "are merely the icing on the cake for me."
The old subordinates looked at one another, unsure what to say.
Someone started to speak again, but Elizabeth lifted her hand and cut him off. "I don't need these things to prove anything. What Sawyer gave me, I've accepted. But anything Sawyer couldn't hold onto himself, I don't want either." She paused, her voice dropping lower. "I'm going home."
No one dared say another word. Jacob stood in the doorway, listening to her say "I'm going home," and the corners of his mouth slowly lifted into a smile.
He walked in and, under the stunned gazes of everyone in the room, took Elizabeth's hand. She looked up at him and smiled too.
After that, Elizabeth and Jacob stayed in Italy for another three months.
In those three months, she wrapped up every last matter Sawyer left behind. Anything she could take with her, she took. What she couldn't, she sold. Anything she couldn't sell, she handed over to professional managers.
She didn't care how much money those businesses might make; she only cared that they would never become weapons anyone could use against her.
Jacob stayed by her side from morning till night. He went through contracts with her, went along to client meetings, drank for her, and smoothed things over for her. He did it as if it were the most natural thing in the world, with absolute willingness. But Elizabeth couldn't shake the feeling that something about him was off.
He had become way too clingy.