Chapter 168

Chapter 168

"I could call the police right now and tell them you broke down a door and tried to take my daughter by force. Who do you think they'd believe—you or me?"

Ulysses said nothing. He just stared at her, cold and unblinking.

Then a voice came from the front door. "Call the police? Go right ahead."

Every head turned.

Heath stood in the doorway, briefcase in hand, clearly just back from outside. His face was drawn. His gaze moved across the three people in the living room one by one, finally settling on Dahlia's swollen eyes and disheveled hair. His voice dropped low.

"Someone tell me what the hell is going on."

The moment Dahlia saw Heath, every ounce of fear and hurt she'd been holding back crashed over her at once.

She rushed to him and grabbed his arm, her voice trembling and desperate.

"Dad, Mom and Hawk have been working together to move money out of the company! Those big payments Efrain authorized—every one of them went straight to Hawk's accounts."

"I took pictures of the proof, and she caught me. She locked me in my room and took my phone!"

The words poured out in a torrent. Tears streamed down her face.

"Dahlia!" Amara's eyes blazed crimson, rage surging through her so violently she tasted copper at the back of her throat. "What nonsense are you talking?"

Heath's expression hardened, degree by degree.

He turned to Amara. His voice was hoarse. "Is what she's saying true?"

Amara stood motionless. The fury on her face slowly drained away, replaced by an eerie calm.

She looked at Heath. Then she laughed—a laugh with no warmth, only the cold relief of someone who had stopped pretending.

"It's true."

Her voice was soft, but every syllable landed with crystalline clarity in the ears of everyone in the room.

There was no point denying it anymore. Their scheme was already complete.

She glanced at the watch on her wrist, a sardonic look crossing her face. Then she turned back to Heath.

"I married you to help Hawk launder money. Your company's funds went out through Efrain, cycled through a string of shell companies, and ended up in Hawk's pocket."

"This has been going on for years. And you never noticed a thing."

Heath swayed. One hand shot out to grip the cabinet beside him, barely keeping himself upright.

His lips trembled. His face went ashen. His chest heaved with rapid, shallow breaths.

"You… what did you say?"

The words scraped out of his throat.

"I said you're a complete and utter fool."

Amara's voice dripped with contempt.

"You thought we were in love? Thought I actually wanted to build a life with you? That's hilarious."

"I was using you. Your precious company—we've been gutting it for years, and you were none the wiser."

"Though I'll give you this much credit: you're a hell of an earner. Kept my brother in business all this time."

The last word had barely left her mouth when Heath's hand flew to his chest. His face shifted from gray to white. His body began sliding toward the floor.

"Dad!"

Ulysses lunged forward and caught him, easing him down, shouting as he went.

"Call an ambulance! Now!"

Dahlia scrambled for the living room phone and dialed 911, her voice breaking. "Hello? Someone's having a heart attack—please hurry, the address is—"

Amara stood where she was, watching Heath's colorless face on the floor, watching Dahlia frantically on the phone.

Ulysses knelt beside his father performing first aid. Not a single flicker of emotion crossed her face.

Then she turned, picked up her handbag from the couch, and walked toward the door at an unhurried pace.

"Stop!"

Dahlia slammed the phone down and screamed at her retreating back.

"Mom, where are you going?"

Amara didn't turn around. But at the word 'Mom,' her stride faltered for just a heartbeat. Then she pushed through the door and was gone.

She walked briskly out of the Visconti Villa, pulled open the door of her white sedan, slid behind the wheel, and floored the gas.

The car shot forward and vanished around the end of the street.

One hand on the wheel, she fished her phone from her bag with the other and dialed Hawk. It rang twice before he picked up.

"I showed my hand to Heath."

Her voice was clipped. "Everyone knows now. I'm heading out of the city. Get me an exit route."

Hawk was silent for two seconds. Then, slowly: "Head toward Amber District. There'll be someone waiting for you at the docks."

"Got it."

Amara hung up, tossed the phone onto the passenger seat, gripped the wheel with both hands, and pressed the accelerator harder, eyes locked on the road ahead.

She'd barely gone two blocks when her phone rang.

She glanced at the screen. Unknown number. She declined the call. A second later, it rang again.

Same number.

She frowned, then finally hit answer.

"Ms. Morris, leaving just like that?"

Mireille's voice came through, laced with an unhurried smile.

"Aren't you forgetting something?"

Amara's eyes went cold. "I don't have time for this."

"Oh, you have time."

Mireille's tone remained perfectly casual.

"You promised me the rest of my payment once this was done. You're about to disappear, and I still haven't been paid. That doesn't seem right, does it?"

Amara let out a sharp, bitter laugh, finally snapping. "Mireille, have you lost your mind? The whole thing's falling apart and you're still hung up on money?"

"To me, it's not just money."

Mireille's voice turned cold.

"It's the deal you made. You're not thinking of stiffing me, are you, Amara?"

"I don't have time for this."

Amara hung up, switched the phone to silent, and shoved it back in her bag.

The car hurtled on, merging onto the highway toward Amber District.

She checked the rearview mirror. No one following. She allowed herself a small breath of relief.

All she had to do was reach the docks, board the boat Hawk had arranged, and she'd be out of the country. Beyond anyone's reach.

The speedometer needle crept higher—past eighty, closing in on eighty-seven.

But what she didn't know was that the moment she'd hung up on Mireille, Mireille had already dialed another number.

"Arabella, Amara's running. Heading toward Amber District in a white sedan. I'm texting you the plate number now."

Mireille's voice was crisp and precise.

"She's going to the docks. Hawk has a boat waiting for her there."