Chapter 132
Chapter 132:
Anson snapped the box shut. His face twisted into something ugly.
“He will destroy you,” Anson spat.
“Then let him,” she said.
Anson turned and stormed out. In the hallway, he pulled out his phone and dialed.
“This is Anson Hyde,” he hissed. “It’s time to call in that favor with the SEC. I want a full investigation into Koch Industries’ recent acquisitions. Start with S&D Restoration p>
Eliza was alone again. She waited. The sun went down. The room grew dark.
Then the door opened.
Dallas entered.
He looked like death barely warmed over — pale, unshaven, dark circles carved beneath his eyes. He wore a heavy wool coat and still shivered slightly. But his eyes burned with an intensity that cut through the dim room.
“Dallas,” she breathed, sitting up.
𝘞e 𝘶р𝘥a𝗍𝗲 𝘦𝘃𝖾𝗋𝗒 𝘸еe𝘬 𝘰𝗇
He didn’t smile. He didn’t come to the bed. He stood at the foot of it, both hands gripping the rail.
“Pack,” he said. His voice was raw and damaged.
“Where are we going?” she asked, her heart hammering.
“Home,” he said. “And you aren’t leaving. Ever p>
Eliza shivered. It sounded like a threat. It sounded like a sentence.
But she nodded. “Okay p>
The ride to the apartment was silent. Dallas sat on the far side of the seat, staring out the window, radiating a cold and impenetrable distance.
When they arrived, he didn’t carry her to the master bedroom. He led her to the guest suite down the hall.
“Stay here,” Dallas said, without looking at her. “Rest p>
He turned and walked out, closing the door behind him.
Eliza sat on the edge of the bed. It felt like a gilded cage — the luxury was intact, but the warmth was gone.
An hour later, a quiet knock. Mrs. Gable, the housekeeper Dallas had introduced once in passing, entered with a tray.
“Soup, dear,” she said gently. “Mr. Koch insisted. Chicken broth and vegetables p>
“Is he eating?” Eliza asked, taking the tray.
“He’s in the study,” Mrs. Gable sighed. “Working. He hasn’t slept in days. Running on coffee and stubbornness p>
Eliza ate. She needed the strength. She couldn’t fight for him if she passed out.
When the bowl was empty, she stood. A wave of dizziness rose and passed; she steadied herself against the wall and walked down the hallway to the study.
The door was ajar.
Dallas sat behind his desk, surrounded by monitors casting a cold blue glow across his face. He was typing furiously. He coughed — a dry, painful sound — and reached for a glass of water.
“You should be in bed,” he said, without looking up.
Eliza walked into the room. “Thank you p>
He stopped typing. He swiveled his chair around. “For what? The soup p>
“For saving my life,” she said, stepping closer. “For jumping. For everything p>
Dallas stood. He came around the desk, his presence overwhelming even in his weakened state.