Reborn Heiress: Escaping My Contract Marriage with the Cold CEO Chapter 35: Gregory Savage

VANESSA BELMONT

"Who’s Gregory Savage?" I repeated. "Um ... a Jas Bond villain. No, a delicious cocktail. Oh, no. No. He’s a 1940s actor."

"He’s the man Fiona t at the coffee shop."

"Oh. Why did he hook up with Fiona?"

"Why don’t we go ask them? They’re at an abandoned warehouse outside the city."

"Well, I was thinking we would do sothing fun for our wedding night, but yeah, sure, let’s go to the creepy warehouse and confront the bad guys."

Nathan took my hand and kissed my knuckles. "I’ll make it up to you."

"You realize this is a trap, right?"

"Obviously. But we’ll have back-up and we have Malone."

"Malone’s like our Rambo."

"You got that right."

***|***|***|***|***

FIONA GRAND

The rain lashed against the car window as I stared at the burner phone in my lap. Gregory Savage’s words echoed in my skull. Vanessa belongs to . Nathan belongs to you.

A deal with the devil.

I should’ve thrown the phone out the window. Should’ve told the driver to take straight to the airport. But the thought of Vanessa—smug, undeserving, winning—made my fingers tighten around the device.

The sedan hit a pothole, jolting from my thoughts. The driver glanced in the rearview mirror. "Ma’am, the address you gave—it’s up ahead."

I peered through the downpour. A nondescript warehouse lood in the distance, its windows dark. "Stop here."

The car idled as I weighed my options. Gregory was dangerous. Unhinged. But he had resources. And he could get what I wanted: Vanessa gone. Nathan in my arms.

I stepped out into the rain.

The warehouse door creaked open before I could knock. A burly man—one of Gregory’s—nodded inside. The space was cavernous, dimly lit, the air thick with the scent of damp concrete and rusted tal.

Gregory stood near a steel table. "You ready?"

"For..."

The shadows hollowed his cheeks, made his eyes look like pits.This man scared the hell out of . For a microsecond, I felt sorry for Vanessa and whatever trauma he had in store for her.

"For the big show, Miss Grand. After all, our prey is coming to us."

"Nathan?"

"And Vanessa."

***|***|***|***|***

VANESSA BELMONT

The warehouse looked like it had been rejected from a horror movie for being too cliché—rusty chains, flickering lights, the whole nine yards of nope.

Inside, Fiona stood with her arms crossed, looking like the poster girl for Green Tea Bitches. Next to her was a man—broad-shouldered, muscled, a boxer’s build. He didn’t smile, but his disturbing gaze never left .

"I know you brought n, Jang," said the probable Gregory Savage. "But trust when I say I brought more."

"What do you want?" asked Nathan.

"Vanessa," said Savage.

"Over my dead body." Nathan drew behind him. "We don’t have any beef with you. But Fiona has a date with the police."

"More like the preacher," said Fiona. "Because we’re going to the chapel," she sing-songed. Her eyes were bright. Was she high? Because she looked high.

"You rember , Vanessa?" asked Savage.

"Nope."

Savage tilted his head. "Five years ago. Prague."

I stared. "Prague?"

He nodded. "You saved . Dragged from the river and gave CPR."

I stared at him, open-mouthed. "What? When?"

"Five years ago," he said again. "Prague."

"I’ve never been to Prague."

Savage’s expression turned to surprise. "Yes, you have."

I crossed my arms. "Look, Gregory. I would know where I was five years ago, and it wasn’t Prague."

Savage’s smirk faltered. "You’re lying."

I threw my hands up. "Who lies about not going to freaking Prague? Why wouldn’t I admit I saved you? That’s like bonus points for heaven."

"Who cares!" yelled Fiona. "Just take her already."

I whirled on her. "Excuse ?"

Savage, anwhile, was still staring at like I was a puzzle he couldn’t solve. "If it wasn’t you in Prague ... then who the hell was it?"

"Sounds like a you problem," said Nathan.

The tension in the warehouse was thick enough to choke on. Nathan’s grip on my hand tightened. Malone, ever the silent sentinel, had already positioned himself between us and Savage’s n, his fingers twitching near the gun holstered at his side.

Fiona, anwhile, looked like she was enjoying this way too much. Her lips curled into an evil grin as she toyed with a strand of her hair, her too bright gaze flicking between Nathan and .

"You know," I said, breaking the silence, "if this is about so mistaken identity in Prague, I feel like we could’ve cleared this up over email. Maybe a Zoom call."

Savage’s jaw clenched. "This isn’t a joke."

Nathan stepped forward, his voice low and dangerous. "Enough. Whatever you think Vanessa did or didn’t do, it ends here. You want a fight? You’ve got one. But you’re not laying a finger on her."

Fiona let out a sharp laugh. "Oh, Nathan. Always the hero. But you can’t save her this ti."

"Last chance," Savage said, his voice eerily calm. "Tell the truth about Prague."

"I am telling the truth!" I snapped. "I don’t know you! I’ve never seen you before in my life!"

For the first ti, doubt flickered in his eyes.

Then Fiona, impatient, lifted a revolver. "Enough talking."

She shot Savage first. The bullet pierced his throat. He grabbed at his neck, spluttering blood as he sank to the ground.

She aid the gun at , and Nathan, that beautiful moron, tried to cover my body with his. I shoved him out of the way.

And then...

Pain.

White-hot and searing, radiating from my chest.

I looked down.

Blood blood across my shirt.

I gasped, my hands pressing the wound as my knees buckled. The world tilted, the warehouse spinning around . I collapsed to the concrete floor. I couldn’t breathe. I was reminded of the first ti I died, when I felt my chest crack, my lungs puncture...

Was I going to die again?

"No, Vanessa! No!"

Nathan gathered in his arms, holding tight. I didn’t have the strength to move or to speak, but if I could ... I would’ve said that I loved him.

I heard another gun shot. Nathan slumped over .

The last thing I heard was Fiona’s manic laughter.