Chapter 213
Chapter 213:
Anson went pale. He looked at the papers in Eliza’s hand, then at Dallas. The wind went out of him entirely. His grand gesture — his ultimate leverage — had already been trumped.
“You didn’t tell me,” Eliza said, staring at Dallas.
“It’s your home, El. Not a bargaining chip,” Dallas said, his eyes holding hers. “I don’t need a wedding, or a favor, or a thank-you to give it to you. It’s just… yours p>
Eliza looked at Anson. He looked small. Defeated. He had planned to use her parents’ home as a leash. Dallas had given it to her as wings.
“Go home, Anson,” Eliza said, her voice steadier than it had ever been. “Before I file for a restraining order p>
Anson opened his mouth, closed it, and turned away. He got into his car and slammed the door hard enough to shake the frame, then peeled out, tires screaming, leaving the smell of burnt rubber hanging in the night air.
Dallas placed his hand on the small of Eliza’s back. “Let’s go inside p>
They rode the elevator in silence. Eliza clutched the deed against her chest.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked again as the doors opened to the penthouse.
“Because you don’t owe me for it,” Dallas said, walking into the living room and tossing his keys on the counter. “I didn’t want you to feel bought p>
Eliza leaned her head against his shoulder, breathing in the scent of sandalwood and rain. Something shifted quietly in her understanding of love — realigning itself. It wasn’t about who could save her. It was about who empowered her to save herself.
D𝘪s𝘤𝗼𝘷𝗲𝘳 𝗇𝘦𝘸 𝗌𝘁о𝗋i𝘦𝘀 𝗼𝘯
The air inside Solomon Industries headquarters was stale — thick with the smell of dust, old paper, and failure.
Eliza stood in the center of what had once been her father’s office. The mahogany desk was coated in a thin layer of grime. The leather chair was cracked. Sunlight filtered through the dirty windows, illuminating floating dust motes like tiny ghosts dancing in the silence.
Weston stood by the door, a steady tactical presence. Beside him, sharp and slightly out of place in his tailored suit, was Zane Sterling, Dallas’s lead counsel. He held a tablet.
“The liquidation papers are ready, Mrs. Koch,” Zane said gently. “Are you sure? We can infuse capital. Dallas has the resources to revitalize the brand p>
Eliza ran her hand along the edge of the desk. “No. The name is tainted. Buck poisoned it. Anson used it as a chain.” She took the stylus Zane offered. “I’ll start fresh. My own name. My own reputation p>
She signed. Eliza Solomon.
The screen flashed: Processing… Complete.
It was done. The company that had cost her parents their lives, the legacy that had been a burden for ten years — gone. Eliza felt lighter.
Her phone buzzed in her pocket.
Anson: One last talk. The terrace where we met. Please. Then I’ll leave you alone.
Eliza stared at the screen. She didn’t owe him anything. But she needed to say the words to his face — needed to close the book, not merely turn the page.