Chapter 3 - The Execution of the LegacyAdrian stood up slowly from his steel chair.
He didn't draw his weapon. He walked across the cold concrete floor until he stood two inches from Evelyn’s chair, looking down into her pale face with a look of profound, chilling disdain.
"Isabel didn't die because of Lucas, Evelyn," Adrian revealed, his baritone dropping into a low register that made the room freeze. "Isabel died because her heart was weak. And she spent the last hours of her life begging me to protect her son from you."
Evelyn gasped, her bloodshot eyes bulging out of her head. "You... you knew?"
"I knew you were stealing from the secondary logistics accounts six months ago," Adrian stated flatly. "I allowed you to stay in the west wing out of respect for my late wife’s memory. But tonight... you crossed the line into my home."
He looked over his shoulder at his chief intelligence director, Marco.
"Take Miss Evelyn and Dr. Vance to the Federal Bureau of Investigation’s Organized Crime Task Force downtown," Adrian ordered flatly. "Hand Agent Vance the complete wiretap recordings and the attempted murder evidence."
"NO! ADRIAN! PLEASE!" Evelyn shrieking and thrashing as four broad-shouldered operators unbuckled her restraints, dragging her flat across the concrete floor toward the waiting armored vans outside.
The heavy iron door slammed shut, sealing the holding room back into a deep, peaceful quiet.
Adrian turned around slowly. He walked up to where I stood holding six-pound Lucas, his dark storm-gray eyes softening into an unexpected, breathtaking tenderness as he looked down at his son sleeping peacefully against my chest.
He reached out his broad, calloused hand, gently, reverently tucking a loose lock of my dark hair behind my ear.
"You saved him again tonight, Hannah," Adrian murmured softly, his voice thick with an unshakeable, profound truth.
"He saved me first, Adrian," I whispered back, looking up into his carved face, a sweet tear spilling down my cheek. "When he latched in my bakery... he gave me my heart back."
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Adrian offered a rare, breathtaking smile—a look of pure, eternal devotion that lit up his handsome, severe face.
"Then stay with us, Hannah," Adrian promised, placing his hand over mine over the baby's blanket. "Not as a nurse. Not for twenty-five thousand dollars a week. Stay as my queen."
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