Chapter 231

Chapter 231:

Eliza agreed. She dressed with care, choosing a soft blue dress Dallas had bought her.

She went downstairs to collect the mail before heading out. The street was relatively quiet.

She was walking toward the curb when a shadow detached itself from the building.

“Eliza p>

She froze. Anson.

He looked better than he had in the park — clean-shaven, suit pressed, expression determined.

“I have nothing to say to you, Anson,” Eliza said, pulling out her phone to summon a car.

“I broke up with Claudine,” Anson announced. “Officially. The engagement is void p>

“Good for you,” Eliza said, not looking at him. “But it changes nothing for us p>

Anson stepped into her path. “It changes everything. I’m free. We can start over p>

“I’m married, Anson. And I love him,” Eliza said firmly.

M𝗼rе 𝗇𝘰𝗏e𝘭s on

Anson flinched. Then his eyes turned cold.

“You love a safety net,” he spat. “You love the illusion of a savior.” He paused, letting the silence sharpen. “I know why he’s really with you, Eliza. The debt his father owes your mother p>

Eliza stilled. “What debt p>

“Dallas didn’t tell you?” Anson smiled — sharp and predatory. “His father, Ferd Koch, had an affair. Decades ago. With a woman who wasn’t his wife. Your mother, Diana, was her confidante. She helped the woman and her child disappear, to protect them from Ferd’s wrath. It was the Koch family’s dirtiest secret p>

He let that settle before twisting the knife. “Dallas is marrying you to buy your silence. Your mother is gone, but you’re a loose end. He’s tying you to him with a ring to make sure the secret never comes out. It’s hush money, Eliza — disguised as a wedding p>

“That makes no sense,” Eliza shook her head, her world tilting again.

“Doesn’t it?” Anson pressed. “Why else would the King of New York marry a bankrupt girl he barely knew? Gratitude? No. It’s a transaction. A liability management strategy p>

Eliza wavered. The logic was twisted, but in the insecure corners of her mind, it found a foothold. Was I just a liability he was managing?

Anson extended his hand. “Come with me. I have proof. I’ll show you p>

“I’m not going anywhere with you,” Eliza said, stepping back and clutching her purse.

“Fine.” Anson pulled out his phone. “Look at this p>

He opened a file. A bank transfer record — a personal transfer from Dallas Koch to the Solomon Charity Foundation. The amount was staggering. The date was from three years ago, long after her mother’s death but right before Solomon Industries began its final, catastrophic decline.

“He wasn’t supporting her charity,” Anson said, his voice smooth and measured. “He was setting the stage. A down payment on his conscience before he let you fall — just so he could be the one to catch you. A donation to honor her memory? No. It was a strategic investment.” He paused. “He feels obligated. A debt of honor to protect his family’s name. It’s not love p>