Chapter 239 Bait

Chapter 239 Bait
Diana POV

I immediately called for help. When Parker burst into the room with the family doctor moments later, I was frantically supporting Bradley as blood soaked through his clothes. How could this be happening now, when we had only just found our happiness again?

"Check my wife first!" Bradley rasped, his face ashen. Even in obvious pain, his eyes were fixed on me. "Make sure she's alright."

"No, I'm fine!" I choked out, tears blurring my vision. "You're the one bleeding! Doctor, check him first!"

The doctor gave me a rapid, cursory check to appease him. "She's unharmed, Mr. Booth. The baby is fine." Only then did the tension leave Bradley's jaw. The doctor immediately turned his attention to the wound, working quickly to staunch the bleeding while Parker helped me move Bradley to the nearest bedroom.

"Parker," Bradley's voice was weak, but his tone remained firm, "go outside and look for any clues the shooter might have left behind." He then turned to me, his eyes softening despite the pain. "Diana, go to the children. They must be terrified right now."

I hesitated, terrified to leave his side, but he was right. I pressed a quick, trembling kiss to his forehead and hurried out. Finding Jacob and Joanne huddled together, I pulled them close, whispering assurances I wasn't sure I believed myself, my heart suspended in fear.

As soon as the children were settled with Martha, I raced back to the bedroom.

Bradley fell asleep quickly due to blood loss and medication. I sat beside his bed the entire night, not allowing myself even a moment's rest. I held his hand, whispering prayers and promises, begging whatever forces governed our lives to spare him this time.

The next afternoon, he finally opened his eyes to find me, Martha, and the children gathered around his bed.

"Diana..." he called hoarsely.

I immediately moved closer, gently caressing his face. "How do you feel? Is the wound still painful?"

"It's nothing, just a minor injury," Bradley attempted a smile to reassure me, but I could see the effort it took. "Don't worry."

The dam broke. I leaned in, careful of his bandages, and wept against his shoulder. "It's all my fault. If you hadn't been protecting me... if anything had happened to you, what would I do..."

"Hey, stop that," he murmured, his hand finding my back. "I'm going to be fine. Just a few days of rest. Besides, look—you're worrying the kids."

I sniffled, scrubbing at my damp cheeks, and turned to find Jacob and Joanne hovering nearby, eyes wide with fear. Weak as he was, Bradley reached out, ruffling Jacob’s hair.

"Is it bad, Daddy?" Joanne whispered, clutching his fingers.

"Just a scratch, princess," he promised, his voice rough but warm. He looked at Jacob, who was trying hard to be brave. "I'm not going anywhere, son. You can stop worrying."

Jacob nodded, letting out a breath he seemed to have been holding for hours, while Joanne finally offered a small, watery smile.

A knock at the door interrupted us as Parker entered, exchanging a meaningful glance with Bradley.

Bradley turned to Martha. "Mom, could you take the children out for a while?"

I stayed behind, and once the door closed, Parker immediately shared his findings: "Based on the surveillance footage and scene examination, the bullet came from a sniper positioned in a tree some distance away. The shooter fled on foot after missing his target. We tracked them for quite a distance before losing the trail."

"Who would want to kill us?" I asked, a sense of dread forming in my stomach. "And why target me?"

We began discussing potential suspects. Bradley’s expression darkened as he brought up the collapse at the asylum. "They pulled Judith and Renata from the rubble. I’d assumed Marisa was dead, too," he said, his voice grim. "But the recovery team never confirmed her body. If she somehow survived that wreckage, she’s someone with enough motive to try this."

"Even if Marisa did survive," I reasoned, "it seems unlikely she'd have the resources to hire a professional hitman."

Bradley shifted carefully on the pillows, wincing. "I’ve made plenty of enemies with the recent acquisitions. But corporate rivals aim for the head of the company." He looked at me, his eyes dark. "If this were business, I was the logical target. Why go after you?"

We went in circles, but the conclusion was the same. Whether it was a ghost from our past or a new threat entirely, we couldn't afford to be wrong again. We had to be ready.

Bradley outlined a plan to control the narrative: we would leak a story claiming the shooter had been caught—a hired gun sent by a desperate business rival to leverage me against Bradley.

If the real culprit believed the police had closed the case on a convenient scapegoat, they might get sloppy. Professional hits were rarely paid in full up front. With the job unfinished and the final payment pending, the killer would likely return to complete the contract if they believed the heat was off.

We decided to use Martha's upcoming birthday celebration as our trap. The guest list would be restricted to close friends and family to minimize risk. Since I appeared to be the primary target, Bradley insisted I move to the Booth estate, where security was tighter.

As the days blurred into weeks, the grounds began to transform. One day, I was walking through the gardens at the Booth estate, watching workers prepare for Martha's party. Observing their busy figures, I felt both anticipation about potentially catching our would-be assassin and anxiety about the risks our plan entailed.

Suddenly, a delivery truck was unloading nearby when a heavy flower pot dislodged from above. Someone shouted urgently, "Colin, watch out!"

The worker named Colin had been arranging flowers beneath the truck. Hearing the warning, he jumped aside just as the massive pot crashed exactly where he'd been standing seconds before, sending shards of terracotta and clouds of dust exploding into the air.

The sound was like a gunshot, echoing off the manor walls.