Emma forced herself not to look toward the windows.
Cole was outside.
Somewhere.
Listening.
Ryan walked slowly toward her.
He looked almost exactly as he had during family dinners—expensive suit, perfect posture, calm eyes.
That was the worst part.
Monsters were easier when they looked like monsters.
Ryan looked like someone who remembered birthdays.
Someone who sent flowers after funerals.
Someone who had once brought Emma tea when she could not sleep.
“You killed Tom,” she said.
Ryan tilted his head.
“I don’t know anyone named Tom.”
“The diner manager.”
“Collateral damage.”
Emma’s stomach twisted.
“You say that like he wasn’t a person.”
Ryan sighed.
“I liked you better when you were less dramatic.”
Her fear became anger.
“You knew I was pregnant.”
“I suspected.”
“I told you.”
“You told me you might be.”
“I showed you the test.”
“Yes.”
Ryan smiled faintly.
“And I realized immediately how useful that could become.”
Outside, Cole listened through Emma’s microphone.
Every word drove another nail into his restraint.
Owen stood beside him in the surveillance van.
“Wait.”
Cole’s hand hovered near the door.
“He just admitted—”
“We need the whole confession.”
“My pregnant ex-wife is inside with armed men.”
“And if we rush it, Ryan’s people may kill her before we cross the lawn.”
Cole hated him for being right.
Inside, Emma kept Ryan talking.
“Why Northstar?”
He seemed amused.
“You found it.”
“You put it in my name.”
“At your wedding.”
“You planned this before I was even your cousin’s wife?”
Ryan’s expression darkened.
“You still don’t understand Cole.”
“Then explain him.”
“He was born with everything.”
Emma said nothing.
Ryan continued.
“The Mercer name. The company. The loyalty. Our grandfather looked at Cole and saw a king. He looked at me and saw an accountant.”
“So this is jealousy?”
“This is justice.”
“No. Justice doesn’t murder diner managers.”
For the first time, Ryan’s smile disappeared.
“You always had a talent for saying the irritating thing.”
Emma looked around.
“What did Travis Doyle discover?”
Ryan’s eyes narrowed.
That told her she had hit something important.
“He discovered unusual credential activity,” she said. “Didn’t he?”
“You’ve become smarter.”
“I always was.”
That earned a small laugh.
“Fair enough.”
“So you killed him.”
“He was going to tell Cole.”
Emma’s chest tightened.
Ryan had confessed.
She hoped the microphone caught everything.
“And the two million?”
“Insurance.”
“Against what?”
“Against Cole surviving the divorce.”
Emma stared.
Ryan walked toward a broken stained-glass window.
“The plan was simple. You leave. Money disappears into a company tied to you. Regulators discover it. Cole protects you. The board decides his judgment is compromised. I take operational control.”
“But the money was never discovered.”
“Because Cole behaved unpredictably.”
“How?”
“He didn’t come after you.”
Emma froze.
Ryan almost seemed irritated by the memory.
“I expected him to tear the city apart looking for you. Instead, he stayed away.”
Emma’s heart shifted.
“What?”
Ryan smiled.
“You didn’t know?”
“No.”
“He found the first attorney within forty-eight hours.”
The chapel suddenly felt colder.
“He found me?”
“Not you. The lawyer who helped you.”
Emma’s throat tightened.
“Then why didn’t he—”
“Because the lawyer told him you had left voluntarily and would consider any attempt to locate you a threat.”
Emma closed her eyes.
Cole had known how to find the trail.
And he had stopped.
Ryan continued.
“It ruined everything. I needed him obsessed. Reckless. Publicly unstable.”
“So you froze my account.”
“Yes.”
“To force me into desperation.”
“Yes.”
“You watched me.”
“For a while.”
“The SUV?”
“Mine.”
“Why attack the diner?”
Ryan’s eyes hardened.
“Because Cole found you.”
“So Tom died because you thought I might talk.”
“No. Tom died because Cole’s arrival meant the timetable changed.”
Emma stared at him.
“What timetable?”
Ryan looked at her belly.
“The succession timetable.”
Understanding came slowly.
Then all at once.
“You need Cole dead.”
“Yes.”
“And you need me blamed.”
“Yes.”
“What about the baby?”
Ryan’s smile returned.
“If Cole dies without an acknowledged heir, the Mercer trust becomes complicated.”
Emma’s protective hand went immediately to her stomach.
Ryan noticed.
“That child is potentially worth billions.”
“You will never touch my baby.”
“I don’t intend to.”
Something about the answer was worse.
Emma stepped backward.
“Then what do you intend?”
Ryan looked toward one of the armed men.
“You disappear again.”
She knew what he meant.
Permanently.
Outside, Cole pulled the van door open.
Owen grabbed his arm.
“Cole.”
“That’s enough.”
“This needs thirty more seconds.”
“She doesn’t have thirty seconds.”
Inside, Emma felt pressure build low in her abdomen.
Not another kick.
A contraction.
She tried not to react.
Ryan noticed anyway.
“Are you all right?”
“Fine.”
“You don’t look fine.”
“Pregnant women experience contractions.”
“At thirty-four weeks?”
“Sometimes.”
Another armed man shifted uneasily.
Ryan looked annoyed.
“This was supposed to be cleaner.”
Emma almost laughed.
“Sorry my pregnancy interfered with your murder schedule.”
Ryan took a step forward.
That was when the chapel lights died.
Darkness.
Someone shouted.
Glass shattered.
Emma dropped instinctively.
Gunfire exploded.
She covered her stomach.
Men yelled from outside.
A flashlight beam swept across the chapel.
Ryan shouted, “Get her!”
A hand seized Emma’s arm.
She screamed.
Then another figure slammed into the man holding her.
Cole.
He appeared from darkness with terrifying speed.
The gunman hit the floor.
Cole turned immediately to Emma.
“Are you hurt?”
“No.”
“Baby?”
“Contractions.”
Fear flashed across his face.
Another shot cracked.
Cole pulled Emma behind a stone column.
Ryan ran toward the rear exit.
Owen’s voice sounded through the darkness.
“Ryan! Stop!”
The chapel door burst open.
Security flooded inside.
One of Ryan’s men surrendered.
Another fired twice before being tackled.
Emma clutched Cole’s coat.
“Don’t leave.”
“I’m not.”
“Ryan—”
“Owen has him.”
For once, Cole did not chase the enemy.
He stayed with her.
Ryan nearly reached the cemetery behind the chapel.
Owen tackled him onto the wet grass.
Wyatt removed the gun from his hand.
Ryan laughed.
“You think this ends anything?”
Owen handcuffed him.
“It ends your evening.”
Inside, Emma suddenly gasped.
Cole looked down.
Water spread across the stone beneath her shoes.
She stared at it.
“No.”
Cole’s face lost all color.
“Emma?”
“My water broke.”
Another contraction hit.
This one bent her forward.
Cole caught her carefully.
“No, no, no. You’re only thirty-four weeks.”
“I know how pregnant I am, Cole.”
“Right.”
He sounded more frightened than she had ever heard him.
“Hospital.”
Emma tightened her grip on him.
“Cole.”
“I’m here.”
“Hospital. Now.”
The armored SUV tore through the estate gates minutes later.
Cole sat beside her this time because Emma grabbed his hand and refused to release it.
Every contraction grew stronger.
At the hospital, nurses rushed Emma into labor and delivery.
A doctor stopped Cole at the doors.
“Relationship?”
Cole hesitated.
Ex-husband sounded insufficient.
Father sounded terrifyingly new.
Emma, sweating and shaking, answered for him.
“He’s the father.”
The doctor nodded.
“Then come.”
Cole followed.
Four hours later, labor had slowed, but not stopped completely.
Doctors believed they could buy the baby time.
Maybe days.
Maybe weeks.
Emma lay exhausted beneath hospital blankets.
Cole sat beside her.
He had blood on his shirt from the chapel.
His knuckles were bruised.
For once, his phone was turned off.
Emma opened her eyes.
“Ryan?”
“Alive.”
“Police?”
“On their way once federal investigators finish questioning him.”
“You’re letting police handle it?”
Cole looked at her.
“What did you expect?”
“The old you?”
A sad smile touched his mouth.
“I’m trying not to be him.”
Emma studied him.
“You could have chased Ryan.”
“Yes.”
“But you stayed.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Cole looked toward her stomach.
“Because catching him wasn’t more important than you.”
Her eyes filled.
That sentence would have been obvious to another woman.
To Emma, it meant everything.
Cole reached for her hand, then stopped before touching it.
She noticed.
Slowly, Emma moved her fingers into his.
Cole closed his hand around hers.
Neither called it forgiveness.
Neither called it love.
Not yet.
But for the first time in eight months, Emma fell asleep without wondering who was watching her window.