Chapter 263

“We traced the payment,” Gavin said. “Fifty thousand dollars in crypto. It originated from a shell company registered in the Caymans.”

“I don’t care about shell companies,” Hilliard snapped. “Who owns it?”

“It’s a subsidiary of English Holdings,” Gavin said. “Specifically, an account linked to Charla’s personal trust.”

The air in the room seemed to drop ten degrees.

Hilliard rose slowly to his feet.

“Charla.” The name tasted like poison on his tongue.

“She paid the driver to hit Cailin,” Gavin said. “It wasn’t an accident. It was a hit.”

Hilliard’s hands curled into fists. He had let that snake live in his house. He had almost married her.

Then a thought struck him — cold and terrifying, stopping his heart cold.

“Where is Elia?” Hilliard asked.

Vance frowned. “She’s at the hospital. In the pediatric wing. You put guards on her.”

“Charla knows she’s here,” Hilliard said. “If she tried to kill Cailin…”

He didn’t finish the sentence. He turned and ran.

Hilliard didn’t take the elevator. He took the stairs, three at a time, his expensive shoes hammering against the concrete.

He burst into the basement security office first.

The truck driver was there, handcuffed to a chair and guarded by two of Hilliard’s men. Hilliard didn’t ask questions. He walked straight up to the man and backhanded him across the face. The sound cracked through the room like a pistol shot.

“Did she tell you to kill the child too?” Hilliard roared.

The driver spat blood. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. It was just a job!”

“Play the tape,” Hilliard ordered Gavin, who had followed him down.

Gavin played the audio file recovered from the driver’s phone.

“The target is the woman on the bike. Make sure she is… neutralized. No witnesses, no loose ends. Erase the problem completely.”

The voice was distorted, but the cadence was unmistakable — the deliberate weight she placed on the word “completely.” It was Charla. And her command was absolute. She hadn’t just wanted Cailin hurt; she had wanted her erased entirely. And if Elia had been with her…

Hilliard’s vision went red. He grabbed a heavy metal flashlight from the desk and raised it.

“Sir!” Gavin caught his arm. “Vance is on the line. It’s urgent.”

Hilliard pressed the phone to his ear, breathing hard.

“Hilliard.” Vance’s voice was panicked. “She’s gone.”

“Who?”

“Elia. The guards said Charla came to visit. She sent them for coffee. When they came back, the room was empty.”

Hilliard let the flashlight drop. It clattered against the floor.

He turned and sprinted out of the room.

He ran through the labyrinthine corridors of the hospital basement, his mind replaying every moment he had left Elia vulnerable — every time he had underestimated the depth of Charla’s malice.

He reached the pediatric floor. The door to Room 302 stood open.

The bed was neatly made. The fruit basket sat untouched on the table, mocking him with its stillness.

“Where is she?!” Hilliard screamed at the two guards standing in the doorway, pale with fear.