The fury in that voice, deep and resonant, was a tangible force. It slammed into Brooks, making him flinch, his foot, poised to shove me back into the water, retracting instinctively. I saw it then, a flicker of primal fear in his eyes. He had always been terrified of Jerimiah, ever since he was a boy, even before Jerimiah became the "Shark of Wall Street." There was something about Jerimiah's quiet power, his almost supernatural control, that had always unnerved Brooks.
Then, I heard another sound, a familiar shuffle. My Grandfather Thomas Hess, Brooks's mother's father and a man of considerable influence in his own right, stepped into the ruined doorway, his face a mask of shock. Brooks's eyes lit up with a perverse relief. Grandfather Thomas, who had always doted on Brooks, would protect him. He had to.
"Grandfather!" Brooks cried out, abandoning me, abandoning his attack. He scrambled away from the pool's edge, his clothes still reeking faintly of the alcohol he'd been consuming freely all night. He rushed towards the older man, feigning tears, his voice choked with a false affection. "Grandfather, you're here! Oh, how I've missed you! Alexa... she attacked me! She's gone mad!"
Jazmyne, ever the opportunist, followed suit, though with less conviction. She was less familiar with Grandfather Thomas and lacked Brooks's familial connection, standing awkwardly a few paces behind, attempting to appear distraught. "Mr. Hess, thank goodness you're here! She's been terrible, absolutely unhinged!"
Brooks cut her off, his narrative already solidifying. "She was trying to steal everything! She brought a... a bastard child into the family, Grandfather! She was going to use it to take over Helios, to ruin everything Dad built! I had no choice but to stop her!" He gestured wildly at me, still half-submerged in the pool, my hands and feet bound, blood blooming around me. "I was just protecting our family honor, Grandfather! I cleaned up the mess! I got rid of the stain!"
I lay in the freezing water, my body trembling uncontrollably, the ropes biting into my inflamed skin. Each ragged breath was a struggle, the taste of blood still in my mouth, the agonizing cramps in my abdomen growing steadily worse. My vision was swimming, but through the haze, I saw him. Jerimiah. He stood tall and unyielding, a dark, formidable figure framed by the shattered doorway. His eyes, usually cool and calculating, were ablaze with a terrifying intensity. They swept over the scene, taking in the splintered door, the disarray, the spreading pool of my blood, and finally, me.
His face, normally unreadable, contorted into a mask of pure, visceral agony. A guttural cry, raw and primal, tore from his throat – a sound that ripped through me, more painful than any physical blow.
"Alexa!"
He moved then, a blur of motion, disregarding his expensive suit, his meticulously styled hair. He plunged into the pool, the cold water doing little to stem the heat of his rage. He didn't hesitate, didn't flinch. He just reached me, his strong hands trembling as he fumbled with the ropes binding my wrists and ankles.
"My baby," I whispered, the words barely audible, tears streaming down my face. "Jerimiah... our baby... it's gone."
His head snapped up, his eyes, dark and haunted, locking onto mine. His hands, still working furiously at the knots, froze. He looked down at my abdomen, at the horrific crimson bloom expanding around me. His jaw clenched, a muscle jumping violently in his cheek. He saw the shattered porcelain on the floor, the blood at the corner of my mouth. Another sound, a choked, agonizing roar, escaped him – a sound that promised unimaginable retribution.
Finally, the last knot gave way. He pulled me into his arms, cradling my broken body against his chest, heedless of the blood and water. His touch was both fiercely possessive and incredibly tender. "Hold on, Alexa," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion, his lips brushing against my forehead. "Just hold on. Please. For me."
Brooks, still oblivious, continued his indignant rant to Grandfather Thomas. "She was trying to steal the company, Grandfather! Trying to taint our bloodline with some street urchin's child! I had to protect our family's honor!"
Grandfather Thomas, who had remained silent, his gaze sweeping over the scene, finally spoke. His eyes, usually gentle, were now wide with a dawning horror. He saw the blood, the shattered phone, the ropes, Jerimiah's raw grief. His hand, frail and trembling, slowly rose to cover his mouth.
"Brooks," he whispered, his voice hoarse with shock. "What... what have you done?"
Brooks, still caught in his delusional narrative, puffed out his chest. "I saved us, Grandfather! I purged the impurity! Alexa, she's a disgrace! But I'm willing to overlook it, for the family. In fact," he turned to Jerimiah, who was still holding me, his back to them, "if she's so desperate for a husband, I'll even marry her. We can still present a united front, Jerimiah. Provided, of course, you step down and allow me to take my rightful place as CEO." He smirked, his eyes gleaming with ambition and a sickening arrogance. "After all, I am the true Sullivan. The only one left."
Jerimiah's head lifted slowly. His eyes, when they met Brooks's, were no longer just furious; they were cold, fathomless pits of absolute darkness. He said nothing, but the air around him seemed to crackle with an unspoken threat.
"My security detail," he commanded, his voice unnervingly calm despite the raw emotion radiating from him. "Get my private medical team here. Now. And if they're not here within five minutes, I will personally see to it that you never draw another breath." His eyes, filled with a terrifying promise, then swung to Grandfather Thomas. "Thomas. Tell them. Tell them the truth."
Grandfather Thomas, his face pale and drawn, looked from Jerimiah to Brooks, then back to my bloodied form in Jerimiah's arms. His hand, still trembling, slowly dropped from his mouth. He pulled his arm away from Brooks, a subtle but decisive movement that sent a chill down my spine. The warmth he'd always shown Brooks was gone, replaced by a cold, devastating clarity.
"Brooks," Grandfather Thomas said, his voice barely a whisper, yet it cut through the silence like a knife. "Jazmyne. You fools. You have no idea what you've done." His eyes, filled with a profound sorrow, met Jerimiah's. "The truth... the truth is far worse than you could possibly imagine."
