Chapter 23 - Ghosts of the Past
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Three days later.
The penthouse apartment overlooking Central Park was dead silent.
Following the raid on the Carter Estate, Ethan had moved me into his most secure residence—a triplex penthouse with bulletproof glass, private elevator access, and a team of ex-Mossad guards stationed at every exit.
Yet, despite the luxury and security, I couldn't sleep.
Every time I closed my eyes, I felt Andrew's fingers digging into my throat. I heard his raspy voice echoing in the dark server room: I will find you.
I stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows, wrapping my cashmere cardigan tightly around my shoulders, watching the city lights flicker beneath the midnight rain.
Soft footsteps sounded behind me on the hardwood floor.
"Still awake?" Ethan asked gently.
He walked up beside me, carrying two mugs of steaming tea. He handed one to me, his fingers lingering against mine.
"I can't turn my brain off," I admitted, staring out at the rain. "Everything happened so fast, Ethan. Five days ago, I was a ghost running from my past. Today, I'm the woman who brought down a US Senator."
"You didn't just bring him down, Ava," Ethan said softly. "You survived. You exposed the truth."
"At what cost?" I looked up at him, my eyes filled with painful guilt. "Your family's name is dragged through the mud. Your company's stock plummeted twenty percent this morning because of Elizabeth's involvement."
Ethan set his mug down on the glass side table and turned me to face him. He took my chin in his hand, forcing me to look directly into his eyes.
"Listen to me," Ethan said, his voice dropping to a low, intense rumble. "I don't care about the stock price. I don't care about the family name. Elizabeth Bennett was a parasite leeching off my father's legacy, and Collins was a criminal."
"Ethan..."
"The only thing I care about in this entire city is standing right in front of me," he whispered, his thumb lightly stroking my jawline. "I would burn every dollar I own to keep you safe, Ava. Don't ever apologize for saving yourself."
Tears pricked my eyes, but before I could answer, his phone chimed on the coffee table.
Ethan picked it up. His face hardened instantly as he read the encrypted email notification.
May you like
"What is it?" I asked, stepping closer.
"It's from my legal team in Geneva," Ethan said, his voice dropping an octave. "Someone just tried to access my late mother's offshore trust account using Andrew Vaughn's credentials."
