Chapter 4 Threat

The next morning hit like a freight train-HR called with the grim news: I was fired. They demanded my presence at the office immediately to handle the severance paperwork and evacuate my desk.

Gripping my phone with a white-knuckled intensity, I fantasized about hurling it straight at Benny's smirking face.

Those money-hungry fucks cared for nothing but their own damn wallets.

Back when Benny needed my charm to win over clients, he'd put me on a pedestal, but the moment I dared challenge him, he tossed me aside like worthless trash, without even blinking.

That lying, backstabbing piece of shit-I spent eight long years working my ass off for that bastard, and he didn't even flinch before screwing me over.

I threw back the covers, my anger boiling over. Fine, if they didn't value me, I'd find someone who did.

There was no doubt I'd land another position, possibly even with United Media's competitors.

I powered through my morning routine, ensured I looked sharp, grabbed my essentials, and stormed out to close this wretched chapter of my life.

But as I settled into my car, my phone vibrated with urgency.

The display showed a landline number. I answered it instantly.

"Dr. Hardy, what's the matter? Is it my grandma?" I inquired, my voice laced with concern.

Jackson Hardy's tone was tinged with discomfort.

"No, Cathy, remain calm-your grandma's condition is stable," he assured me hesitantly. "It's just that... the funds you prepaid for her care have been all spent for a while, and..."

"I got it," I responded, the engine roaring to life beneath me. "I'm on my way to the sanatorium now."

In the shadows of my troubled existence, the only glimmer of joy came from the moments spent with my maternal grandmother, Miranda Howard.

She was my whole world-the one person who'd ever shown me what kindness really meant.

Nothing in this world would make me let anything happen to her.

I arrived at the sanatorium and made a hefty deposit of fifty thousand dollars to ensure her continued care. After settling the finances, I sought out Jackson, eager for an update on how my grandmother was doing, before making my way to her room.

Gently pushing open the door, I found her on the small balcony, basking in the gentle warmth of the sun.

There she sat, needles clicking softly as she knit a sweater, murmuring to herself, "Our Cathy's grown so tall-I need to knit her a new sweater fast, or she'll catch cold this winter."

Her words struck a tender chord in me, igniting a sharp sting in my nose as tears welled up swiftly.

Despite the fog of memory that clouded her recognition of me, her fingers remembered their duty to keep me warm.

Brushing away the tears, I forced a bright smile and approached her, crouching by her side. "Grandma, it's me. I'm here to visit you."

***

My excitement to tackle the fallout from my firing had been at an all-time high when I had left my apartment earlier, buoyed by a defiant spirit. But as I left the sanatorium now, the reality of my situation quickly dampened my resolve.

I had chosen the finest sanatorium for my grandmother, sparing no expense to ensure her comfort in her twilight years. It was a testament to my gratitude for all she had done for me.

Yet, now jobless, the prospect of maintaining those exorbitant fees seemed insurmountable.

In a moment of reflection, I berated myself for my reckless pride-an expensive outburst where I had squandered half a million just to get back at Jaxton.

It was a foolish stunt, one that now seemed utterly insane.

And to make matters worse, Jaxton's influence had cost me my job, adding fuel to my simmering anger.

As I paced, mentally preparing to eat humble pie and beg Benny for forgiveness, my phone erupted into life, its shrill ring slicing through my thoughts.

The name flashing on the screen morphed my frustration into sheer rage. With a grimace, I answered.

"What?" I snapped, unable to mask the edge in my voice.

A heavy, exasperated sigh crackled through the speaker before the stern voice of the woman on the other end commanded, "Get back here right now."

Her demand hung heavily between us. I stiffened, my voice ice-cold as I retorted through gritted teeth, "I thought I made it pretty damn obvious when I left-I was never going back there."

With a frosty sneer emanating through the line, the voice retorted, "Do you think I want to see you?"

After a chilling pause, the words sliced through the air. "But if you care about your grandma's safety and comfort at Healing Sanatorium, you'll do exactly what I tell you."

It was a blatant threat-raw and merciless.

And the worst part? I had nothing-no way to fight back.

My grandma, my most vulnerable spot, was firmly within her grasp, and she wielded this knowledge like a weapon.

Fuming, I slammed the phone down. My rage was volcanic, yet it changed nothing; I was still shackled by her demands.

Half an hour later, I found myself standing at the imposing gates of the Smith family estate. I rang the doorbell hesitantly, the weight of the situation bearing down on me.

As soon as I crossed the doorway, two towering security guards lunged forward.

Their grip was iron as they seized me, twisting my arms behind my back and dragging me toward the living room.

There, nestled in luxury, were Brice Smith and his wife Kacie Smith, alongside their daughter Florrie Smith.

Occupying another chair was a slick, middle-aged man reeking of arrogance.

My eyes narrowed as I assessed the room, my voice cold and defiant. "What exactly do you want?"

Their eyes slid right past me, like I wasn't even there. Brice, wearing a sycophantic smile, turned to the greasy man, introducing me with a hint of subservience. "Mr. Hugh Gilbert, meet the daughter I've spoken of."

Daughter?

My mouth twisted into a sneer. Since when had he ever recognized me as such?

Hugh scrutinized me as if I were an item on display, his eyes narrowing before he nodded with a smug, self-satisfied smirk.

Brice, his eyes alight with anticipation, ventured, "So, about the investment we discussed..."

"Don't worry, Mr. Smith," Hugh assured with a dismissive wave of his hand. "The funds will be in your company's account by tomorrow."

Then, he turned his gaze toward me, his expression morphing into one of eagerness. "So..."

Brice caught on instantly, his voice smooth but firm. "Rest assured, Mr. Gilbert. I'll ensure she arrives at your place shortly."

Hugh's lips twisted into a vile smirk as he strutted out, radiating self-satisfaction.

The reality hit me like a tidal wave-they were trading me to this disgusting man.

Rage bubbled up inside me. "Brice Smith, do you even have a shred of humanity left?"

Florrie, her face twisted in rage, stormed over and delivered a stinging slap across my face. "Shut your damn mouth, you ungrateful bitch. Who the hell do you think you are, talking to Dad like that? You should be grateful-Dad's making sure you end up with a great man like Hugh. You're nothing but a cold, ungrateful brat."

I spat out blood, my voice thick with defiance. "If he's so great, why don't you marry him?"

Florrie scoffed, venom dripping from her words, "How dare you compare yourself to me? You're nothing but a disgrace!"

Her words cut deep, igniting a fierce rage within me. With a sudden burst of strength, I wrenched free from the guards' hold, tackled Florrie to the floor, and began to fiercely return her blows.

I managed only a few strikes before a boot crashed into my chest, propelling me backward with such force that I slammed into the floor. Pain clamped down on me, pinning me there, my breaths shallow and strained.

When my blurred vision cleared, I saw Brice attending to Florrie with exaggerated concern, gently helping her to her feet. Then, his attention snapped to me with a fury, and he began pummeling me relentlessly, each blow sending a fresh wave of agony through me, until my mouth was awash with the metallic taste of blood.

That was my father-or rather, the man who claimed that title. In his eyes, Florrie was his prized daughter, the golden child, while I was nothing but refuse, something he was eager to discard.

"Stop! I'd rather die than marry that monster," I hissed through clenched teeth, defiance flaring despite the pain.

"Then die!" he bellowed back, his voice booming like thunder as he resumed his brutal assault, kicking and punching me mercilessly.

Defenseless, I curled into a tight ball, trying desperately to shield my stomach, the most vulnerable part of me.

In the midst of the chaos, Kacie's voice emerged, smooth yet unsettlingly icy. "Enough, Brice. Don't damage her too badly," she instructed calmly. "We still need to hand her over to Hugh in one piece."

With a disgusted spit in my direction, Brice halted his attacks. "Lock her up," he commanded tersely. "No food until she agrees. Let's see how long she can keep up this tough-girl facade."

The guards hauled me away, their grips iron-tight, and threw me onto the cold, hard floor of a barren room, slamming the door shut and locking it with a definitive clang.

I collapsed on the floor; pain radiated through me so intensely that even the slightest movement was unbearable.

Sharp, stabbing pains shot through my abdomen, and I instinctively cradled it, my hands trembling as beads of sweat formed on my brow.

My fingers brushed against something solid in my pocket-my hidden lifeline, my phone.

Summoning the last of my strength, I fumbled with the device, my fingers quivering as I dialed a number in my contacts.

"Jaxton, help me," I whispered into the phone, my voice barely a breath as darkness edged my vision. "Save me... save my baby..."