Chapter 103

Across the street, a black Aston Martin sat with its windows partially lowered. Tom Malfoy reclined in the back seat, his eyes gleaming with predatory interest as he observed the unfolding scene. A calculating smile curved his lips. “So, that’s Blackwood’s woman?”

“Indeed, sir,” Damian Walsh confirmed from beside him.

Tom’s mouth twitched slightly. “Resilient little thing, isn’t she?”

“Those men flanking her are clearly Blackwood’s security detail.”

Tom studied her intently. “She is rather captivating. No wonder Blackwood is so consumed by her.”

“This woman,” Damian remarked quietly, “is Blackwood’s sole vulnerability.”

“How convenient,” Tom replied, a dark flicker crossing his features. “Blackwood demolished my operation. It’s only fair I reciprocate with an appropriate gesture of… appreciation.” That Russian venture had cost him a significant investment of resources and capital. Then, at the crucial moment, Blackwood had systematically dismantled everything, inflicting catastrophic financial damage that nearly crippled him. This debt would not go unpaid. Thalia Winters. Let’s see if luck continues to favor you so generously.

At the police station, Thalia made a brief call. Within minutes, the officer handling her case received instructions from higher authorities. After ending the call, the officer’s demeanor changed completely. “Ms. Winters,” he said with newfound deference, “we’ve officially classified your case as attempted murder. The investigation is underway. You’re free to leave; we’ll contact you immediately with any developments.”

Thalia nodded slightly. “I appreciate your assistance.”

As she left the station, her phone rang with an unfamiliar number.

“I understand you’ve taken on Bormen’s case,” the caller began abruptly, his tone laced with barely concealed hostility. “Filing for arbitration against my company?”

Thalia’s expression cooled. “That’s correct.”

“Ms. Winters, perhaps we might discuss this in person? At my office, if you’re inclined.” The man’s tone carried an unmistakable undercurrent of entitlement and disdain.

“Who am I speaking with?”

A cold laugh filled the line. “Feynman Port. Mark Bormen’s former employer.”

The name registered immediately. While preparing the arbitration documents, she had reviewed the company’s registration files where Port was listed as the legal representative.

“What exactly did you wish to discuss?” Thalia asked evenly.

“A private settlement, naturally. Far more efficient than formal proceedings, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Very well. The address?”

Port provided the location—an exclusive business club about ten miles away.

After disconnecting, Thalia’s fingers drummed thoughtfully against the steering wheel. This wasn’t a casual invitation; it reeked of ulterior motives. Caution would be essential. His eagerness to meet on his own territory, under the pretext of discussing settlement terms, could easily mask sinister intentions.

Thalia signaled her security detail. They approached immediately. “Ma’am?”

“We’re attending a meeting. Stay vigilant—I suspect our host has other arrangements.”

“Understood.”

Inside the private room of the business club, a lean man with a buzz cut, clad in a black leather jacket, lounged on a sofa, swirling whisky with evident satisfaction. Four heavyset men stood vigilantly at strategic points around him. Feynman Port’s eyes were cold as he addressed them. “When that lawyer walks in, I want her dealt with properly. If things get messy, our friends upstairs will smooth it over.”

“Got it, boss,” his men responded in unison.

Thalia approached, impeccably dressed in a tailored light grey suit that radiated professional authority. Her black heels clicked decisively against the floor as she reached the door. One of her security detail moved to open it. Before she could enter, four men charged toward the doorway, each brandishing a makeshift weapon.

Thalia instinctively stepped back, her quick assessment allowing her bodyguards to intercept. They moved with lethal efficiency, their techniques displaying extensive military training. The room erupted with groans and shouts of pain. In seconds, all four of Port’s men lay incapacitated.

Thalia’s cool gaze met Port’s now-terrified eyes across the room. Her lips curled into a smile devoid of warmth. “Is this your idea of a settlement discussion?”

Port, his face bruised and cut, had lost all his swagger. Thalia stood before him, arms crossed, her posture relaxed yet menacing. “Were your people responsible for pushing me into traffic this morning?”

The legal profession had its risks; she knew this well. The recent near-fatal stabbing of Edward Thompson QC by a former client had been a sobering reminder for the entire legal community.

Port fell to his knees, any remaining pretense of dignity gone. “For God’s sake, I’m sorry—I’ve made a terrible mistake. This won’t happen again, I swear.”

Thalia’s expression hardened. “You haven’t answered my question. Did you arrange for someone to push me into oncoming traffic earlier today?”

“Traffic? What traffic?” Port looked genuinely bewildered. “I’ve never even seen you before now.”

Not him? Then who? Thalia’s brow furrowed as she considered the possibilities. Could Grace Bennett be responsible? She dismissed the thought almost immediately. Grace was manipulative and spiteful, but attempted murder seemed beyond even her capacity for malice. Who else, then?

A name crystallized in her thoughts: Tom Malfoy. Asher had specifically warned her about him, mentioning that Tom might target her to retaliate against Asher himself.

“Are you working for Tom Malfoy?” Thalia asked, her voice cutting through Port’s whimpering.

“Malfoy? Never heard of him,” Port insisted, desperation in every word. “Please, I’ll sort out Bormen’s compensation—every penny. Just let me walk away.”

“That’s rather unconvincing,” Thalia replied, her tone arctic. “A factory manager doesn’t typically arrange for thugs to assault a barrister without significant backing. Someone’s pulling your strings. Give me their name, and perhaps we can resolve this without further… unpleasantness.”

Port visibly trembled. His actual employer wielded considerable influence in both legitimate and illegitimate businesses. In certain circles, the man was spoken of in hushed tones. The factory was merely one of many holdings in his portfolio, with Port serving as a convenient legal placeholder. The mere thought of betraying him, knowing his penchant for brutal retribution, terrified Port.

“There’s nobody,” he insisted, sweat beading on his forehead. “I just… I thought since you seemed young, I could scare you off the case easily.”

Thalia studied him with the practiced scrutiny of someone who interrogated witnesses for a living, weighing every micro-expression for truth. Port cringed under her examination, terrified she might signal her security to resume their earlier demonstration.

“Please,” he begged pathetically, “I’ve learned my lesson.”

“How remarkably unconvincing,” Thalia replied, her smile thin and dangerous. “I simply can’t fathom why a businessman of your… limited stature would risk attacking a barrister without substantial protection. Since you’re being uncooperative, I’ll have to let the police sort it out.”

Port’s shoulders relaxed at this threat. The police posed no real concern. His employer’s influence extended well into law enforcement.

At Blackwood Industries headquarters, Asher received the call from his security detail, his expression darkening with each word. In a single day, Thalia had faced two life-threatening situations, narrowly escaping serious harm both times. A wave of cold dread washed over him. Without another word, he ended the call, grabbed his coat, and strode purposefully toward the door.

Mall Ford hurried after him. “Sir, where are you going? The board meeting starts in ten minutes! Sir? Sir?”

At the Pan Peninsula apartment, Mary had prepared an elaborate spread of Thalia’s favorite dishes. “Come on, love, you’ve had quite the day,” she said with motherly warmth. “Let’s get some food in you.”

Thalia picked up her fork but had little appetite. Her mind kept returning to that moment at the roadside earlier. It was the first time she had been so close to death. One more second, and she would never have seen another sunrise. Lost in thought, she barely registered Asher’s arrival.

“Lia, darling,” his voice was tight with concern as he strode toward her, hands gently cupping her face, his eyes searching hers intently. “Are you all right?”

Thalia returned to the present. “Asher, you already know what happened.”

Asher made a soft sound, pulling her into his arms and holding her tightly. “My sweet girl,” he whispered into her hair. “I almost lost you today.”