Chapter 255
Chapter 255:
Eliza moved down the hallway, the guards falling into step behind her, and took the elevator to the lobby.
As the doors opened, she saw him.
Dallas was leaning against a marble pillar near the entrance, arms crossed over his chest, wearing a dark grey suit. He looked impatient, checking his watch every few seconds.
“Thirty-one minutes,” he said as she approached, his eyes scanning her face for cracks.
“She talked slowly,” Eliza smiled, walking straight to him.
Dallas didn’t spare a thought for the tourists or the staff. He pulled her into his arms right there in the lobby and buried his face in her hair, inhaling deeply, grounding himself.
“Did she hurt you?” he murmured against her ear.
“No.” Eliza rested her head on his chest and listened to the steady beat of his heart. “She just surrendered p>
𝗥𝗈m𝘢𝗻𝖼е 𝗮𝗇𝗱 𝘱а𝘴sіo𝘯 on
“Good.” Dallas pulled back, his hands gripping her shoulders. “Now let’s go home. I don’t like you being near her bad luck.” He guided her toward the revolving doors.
As they stepped out onto 5th Avenue, the wind whipped Eliza’s hair across her face. She brushed it back and glanced across the street.
A figure stood near a newsstand — a man in a trench coat, disheveled, his eyes dark and hollow.
Anson.
He was watching them. He saw Dallas’s hand on the small of her back. He saw the way Dallas leaned in to shield her from the wind. Just as Eliza’s eyes met his, she saw him look down at his phone. The obsessive hatred in his expression morphed instantly into raw panic. He clutched the phone, his face draining of color, then turned and ran — not toward them, but away, swallowed by the midday crowd.
“Eliza?” Dallas asked, sensing her hesitation.
Eliza turned her head away. She chose not to see him. She chose not to engage.
“Nothing,” she said, stepping into the waiting car. “Just a shadow p>
The Hyde Estate felt different from the Koch mansion. Where the Koch home was cold and imposing — a fortress — the Hyde manor felt suffocating, like a mausoleum filled with heavy drapes and old secrets.
Victoria Hyde lay on the chaise lounge in the sitting room. She looked frail, her skin the color of parchment, a handkerchief pressed to her lips as she coughed — a wet, rattling sound.
“We must send a dowry, Anson,” Victoria insisted, her voice weak but stubborn. “She was our daughter in all but name. People will talk if we send her off with nothing p>
Anson stood by the window, staring out at the grey garden. He looked as though he hadn’t slept in days.
“No!” He spun around. “A dowry means she is married! I do not accept this marriage p>
“She is married, son,” Edward Hyde said wearily from his armchair. He looked aged, defeated by the financial ruin Dallas had brought down on them. “To Dallas Koch. It is done. The papers are signed. Everyone knows p>