Pale morning light crept across the living room floor.
Darla sat on the sofa, her eyes swollen shut, her face pale and hollow. Anson was sitting right beside her. He hadn't slept. He had held her against his chest for the entire night, his steady heartbeat the only thing keeping her anchored to reality.
The shattered phone on the coffee table buzzed.
Anson reached over with his long arm and picked it up. He handed it to Darla.
Her hands shook as she struggled to swipe the cracked screen, the glass shards snagging painfully on her fingertip, but the message was clear.
It was a text from Bennet.
Heard about your dad. Tragic. This is what happens when you make enemies out of the wrong people. Keep your mouth shut to the press, or things will get worse.
Right below it was a text from Caren.
A dead dad and a broke husband. Karma is a bitch. : )
Darla's breathing hitched. She opened her email app. At the top of her inbox was an unread message from her company's HR department.
Dear Ms. Hammond, due to recent violations of our morality clause, your employment at Apex Media is terminated effective immediately.
Apex Media. The company owned by the Branch family.
Her father was dead. Her family had destroyed her. And now, they had taken her only source of income.
Darla let out a dry, broken laugh. She dropped the phone. Her hands curled into tight fists in her lap. She squeezed her fingers so hard her fingernails pierced the skin of her palms.
Drops of dark red blood welled up and dripped onto her white dress.
Anson saw the blood. His jaw locked.
He reached out and forcibly pried her fingers open. He grabbed a tissue from the table and pressed it hard against her bleeding palms.
Darla looked up at him. Her eyes were completely dead. "I have nothing left, Anson. They took everything."
Anson looked at her torn hands. A storm of pure, unadulterated rage raged behind his dark eyes, but when he spoke, his voice was a soft, deep rumble.
He reached up and cupped her face, his thumbs gently wiping away a stray tear.
"I am here. You are not alone in this," Anson said, his voice vibrating with absolute certainty. "I will handle your father's arrangements. Just focus on getting through this."
Darla stared into his eyes. The exhaustion finally dragged her down. She slumped forward, resting her head against his chest, and fell into a heavy, trauma-induced sleep.
Anson carefully scooped her up in his arms. He carried her into the bedroom, laid her on the mattress, and pulled the blanket up to her chin.
He stood over her for a moment, watching her chest rise and fall.
Then, Anson turned and walked out of the bedroom. He pulled the door shut until it clicked.
The gentle husband vanished. The apex predator took his place.
Anson pulled a heavily encrypted black phone from his pocket. He dialed Isaac's direct line.
"Isaac," Anson said, his voice dropping to a lethal, freezing pitch. "Send the best independent medical examiner in the country to that prison. I want a full autopsy on David Hammond. Nobody touches that body but my people."
"Yes, Boss," Isaac replied instantly.
"And Isaac?" Anson's eyes narrowed as he looked out the dirty window at the Brooklyn streets. "Find out who owns Apex Media."
"It's a subsidiary of the Branch Group, sir."
"Buy it," Anson ordered coldly. "Hostile takeover. I don't care what it costs. I want the papers signed in twenty-four hours. Fire the entire HR department and the board of directors by tomorrow morning. And freeze every single investment fund connected to Bennet Branch."
"Understood, sir."
Anson hung up the phone. He looked back at the closed bedroom door. They thought they could break his wife. They were about to find out what it meant to wake up in hell.
