That ledger was the blueprint of Ethan’s entire corrupt empire.

It was the only thing that could guarantee he went to prison for the rest of his life.

Liam closed the bag and pushed it further under his coat.

“I have two security guards posted at the end of this hallway,” he said. “No one is getting on this floor without my permission. You need to rest.”

He stood up and walked to the window, his eyes scanning the empty parking lot below.

I closed my eyes, but sleep wouldn’t come.

Every time I drifted off, I felt Ethan’s hands locking around my throat again.

I remembered the cold fury in his eyes when he realized I had decrypted his files.

If Liam hadn’t arrived at our penthouse when he did, I wouldn’t have made it to the hospital.

A sudden, sharp metallic click echoed from the hallway.

I opened my eyes.

Liam froze by the window, his head tilting toward the heavy wooden door of my room.

“Liam?” I whispered.

“Shh,” he raised a finger to his lips.

The hallway was supposed to be restricted at this hour of the night.

Then came a heavy, dull thud.

It sounded like a weight dropping onto the linoleum floor outside.

A second later, a sharp, deafening *crack* shattered the quiet.

The sound of a gunshot.

It was close, right outside the double doors of the recovery ward.

A brief, high-pitched scream from a nurse cut through the air, followed by a second, muffled pop.

My heart hammered violently against my damaged ribs, the monitor beep shifting into a rapid, frantic rhythm.

Liam didn’t hesitate.

He lunged across the room, his boots skidding slightly on the floor, and reached the light switch.

He flipped it down, plunging the room into darkness, lit only by the green glow of my vital monitors.