Chapter 11 - Blood Ties
Dawn broke over Manhattan, casting a pale, cold light upon the broken glass littering Vance Manor. The police had cordoned off the block, yet the city felt foreign and unsafe.
In the master suite, Nathaniel had refused to let Rose leave his sight for a single second. As a private physician bandaged the scrapes on her knees, Rose’s attention was fixed solely on the television screen muted in the corner.
"The Thorne Corporation is liquidating assets," Nathaniel reported, pacing by the window like a caged predator. "Arthur Thorne stepped down as CEO midnight last night. He's vanished into private airspace. He used half his fortune to buy Victoria out of prison and finance a mercenary hit team."
"They aren't running away, Nathaniel," Rose said, stepping down from the examination table. She walked over to him, gently taking his hands. "Victoria is insane. When I worked for her, I heard how she spoke when she was alone in her dressing room. She doesn't just want wealth; she wants humiliation. She wants Eleanor dead, and she wants you to suffer the way she felt suffered when you broke the engagement."
"She will never touch you again," Nathaniel whispered, his voice trembling with a terrifying blend of love and raw vengeance. "I'm sending you and Leo to our private island in the Mediterranean. You’ll be guarded by twenty men until this is finished."
"No," Rose said instantly.
Nathaniel stopped, staring at her in disbelief. "Rose, they raided our home! They used high-grade explosives!"
"And who stopped them?" Rose countered, stepping into his space, her eyes blazing with fierce resolve. "We did. Together. If I run, Leo grows up thinking his sister is a coward hiding behind an ocean. If I run, Victoria wins by driving me out of the home we built. I am not a helpless ornament you put in a jewelry box to keep safe."
Nathaniel’s heart swelled with an ache so fierce it stole his breath. He saw no fear in her hazel eyes—only the same divine fire that had prompted her to grab Eleanor's wrist on the rooftop edge weeks ago.
"You are extraordinary," he breathed, cupping her face with his calloused palms.
"I am your wife," Rose answered softly, leaning into his touch. "And this is our war."
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A sudden knock sounded at the door. Marcus entered, holding a black encrypted burner phone that was vibrating violently on a silver tray.
"It was delivered to the main gate five minutes ago by a courier," Marcus said gravely. "The caller ID says: *Thorne*."
