Chapter 324

Eliza sat alone in the vast, cold living room. Anson limped over and sat beside her. He didn’t touch her. He just sat there, his presence a suffocating weight.

“He abandoned you, Eliza,” Anson said softly. “Hero or not, he chose death over you. I chose life. I chose pain. For you.” He tapped his brace.

“Look at me,” Anson commanded.

Eliza looked at him. She saw the obsession in his eyes — the twisting, dark need.

“I hate you,” she said.

“Good,” Anson smiled. “Hate is passion. Indifference is the enemy. As long as you feel something, I win.”

Eliza stood. She walked to the window and looked out at the city.

He thinks he can decide for me, she thought. He thinks he can push me away.

She touched the glass.

You’re wrong, Dallas. I’m not a damsel anymore. I’m a Solomon. And I’m coming for you.

The S&D offices were humming with the usual morning chaos, but Eliza walked through it like a ghost. She wore a sharp black suit, her face pale, her eyes hidden behind dark sunglasses. She couldn’t stay in the apartment with Anson. She needed to be where Dallas’s power lived.

Cathey Norton was sitting at the reception desk — a demotion Dallas had orchestrated before he left. She was filing her nails, looking bored. When she saw Eliza, her eyes lit up with malice.

“Oh, look,” Cathey chirped. “The widow Koch. Heard Dallas ran off to play Rambo. Did he leave you the credit cards, at least?”

Eliza stopped. She took off her sunglasses. Her eyes were red-rimmed but cold as ice.

“He left me the company, Cathey,” Eliza said. “Which means I can fire you.”

Cathey’s smile faltered. “You can’t. My dad —”

“Your dad sold his vote,” Eliza cut her off. She walked past her and pushed open the double doors to the executive suite.

Weston was waiting for her. He looked like he hadn’t slept in a week — dark circles under his eyes, his tie loosened.

On the mahogany desk sat a thick black envelope.

“Mrs. Koch,” Weston said, his voice like gravel. “Boss left instructions. If he went dark for more than twelve hours, I was to give you this.”

Eliza stared at the envelope. It felt like it was radiating cold.

“What is it?”

“An emergency transfer of power,” Weston said. “A signed directive that grants you controlling interest and full executive authority over S&D in the event of his incapacitation or disappearance. It’s not a will. It’s immediate.”

Eliza felt her stomach lurch. “He planned this. He knew.”

She reached out and opened the envelope. Inside was a stack of legal documents and a smaller, cream-colored envelope with her name on it in Dallas’s sharp, angular handwriting.

She opened the letter.

Eliza,

If you are reading this, I didn’t make it. Don’t mourn. I was living on borrowed time anyway.

You were the only good thing in a life full of blood. But darkness eats light, Eliza. I was always going to consume you. This is me letting you go.

.