TWISTED FATE:The Hidden Billionaire

CAHPTER FOUR

I sat in the back of the moving black SUV. The leather seat was freezing against my wet jeans. My heart beat fast against my ribs. A toxic mix of adrenaline and sudden hope flooded my chest.

Aiden sent the car. He was going to help me. He was going to pay the clinic bill before my father checked the mail tomorrow. No—my father had already found the envelope. I was already kicked out. But maybe Aiden could fix the debt. Maybe he would pay for a cheap motel room so I didn't have to sleep on the street.

The heavy locks on the SUV doors engaged. Clack. It was a loud, heavy sound that echoed in the quiet cabin. I looked at the driver. He sat behind a thick glass partition. He wore a crisp black suit and a matching tie.

"Excuse me," I said, leaning forward. "Where are we going?"The driver didn't look in the rearview mirror.

He ignored me completely.

I sat back and looked out the tinted window. We were passing a row of abandoned brick warehouses. The streetlights were dim and flickering. We were not going toward the Thorne International building. We were driving down an unfamiliar route, moving rapidly away from the city center. A cold, hard knot of unease began to settle in the pit of my stomach.

The SUV turned sharply and drove down a steep concrete ramp into an underground parking garage. The tires squeaked loudly on the painted floor. The car parked in an empty space next to a concrete pillar. The driver pressed a button, and my door popped open.

A security guard stood waiting outside. He didn't speak. He just pointed a thick finger toward a steel door.

I grabbed the handles of my wet canvas duffel bag. I stepped out of the car. The air in the garage smelled exactly like exhaust fumes and old motor oil. I walked through the heavy steel door.

The guard led me into a sterile, windowless conference room. The walls were painted a stark, blinding white. The lights above buzzed with a low, irritating hum.

Aiden was not there, he wasn't the one waiting for me.

A man sat at a cold metal table in the center of the room. He looked to be in his late fifties. He wore a perfectly tailored gray suit and silver wire-rimmed glasses. He was a corporate lawyer. He had a thick manila folder resting on the metal table in front of him.

"Sit down, Ms. Reed," the lawyer said. His voice was clinical and completely detached.

I stood by the closed door. "Where is Aiden?"

"Mr. Thorne is unavailable," the lawyer replied. He placed his hand flat on the manila folder and pushed it across the table. It made a sharp scraping sound against the metal. "I am his legal counsel. We are here to settle this matter quickly. Inside this folder is a cashier's check for fifty thousand dollars."

Fifty thousand dollars. The number echoed in my head.

I walked slowly to the table. I dropped my duffel bag onto the tiled floor. I reached out and opened the folder.

The check was paper-clipped to the front page. Behind it was a thick stack of legal papers. An NDA. I flipped to the second page. My breath hitched in my throat.

I thought it was a non-disclosure agreement but instead it was a medical intake form. It was a scheduled appointment at a private clinic. Tomorrow morning at eight o'clock. For a surgical abortion.

I stared at the black ink. The words blurred together.

"This is..." I started. My voice shook. "He wants me to—"

"Mr. Thorne prefers his problems to disappear quickly," the lawyer interrupted. He leaned forward, folding his hands together on the table. He delivered the words like he was reading a weather report.

"The funds are entirely contingent upon your attendance at the clinic tomorrow morning."

I felt sick. The fluorescent lights suddenly seemed too bright. "No. I won't do this."

"Ms. Reed, I suggest you—"

"I just asked for five thousand to pay my medical bill!" I shouted, my voice overlapping his. "I didn't ask for fifty thousand dollars. I'm not signing this."

The lawyer's polite, professional mask vanished. His face went completely blank. "If you do not sign that document, Thorne International will blacklist your name. You will never work at an accounting firm in this country. We will drag you through civil court for extortion. We will drain your resources until you starve on the street."

I looked down at the cashier's check. The truth hit me like a physical punch to the jaw. Aiden wasn't trying to save me,as I naively thought,h-he was trying to erasing me.

I stepped back from the metal table. "Keep the money."

"Sit back down," the lawyer ordered sharply.

No!. I grabbed the canvas straps of my wet duffel bag. The lawyer stood up and reached across the table for my arm. I shoved his shoulder hard. He stumbled backward, his hip hitting the edge of the metal table with a loud bang.

I ran out of the room. I hit the heavy push-bar of the fire exit door with both hands. I forced my way up the concrete stairwell, my boots slapping violently against the steps as I climbed.

I burst out of the parking garage stairwell and back into the freezing rain.

The cold water hit my face instantly. I reached into my coat pocket. My phone vibrated against my palm with a short, frantic buzz. I pulled it out.

The screen showed a 1% low-battery warning. A second later, the screen went completely black. The phone died in my hand.

I had forty-two dollars. I had no home. No family. No phone.

I started walking. I didn't know which direction I was going. I just walked blindly through the city for hours. The rain never stopped. Water pooled inside my black boots, soaking my socks completely through. The cold seeped directly into my bones. My calf muscles cramped and gave out multiple times, but I forced myself to keep dragging my feet forward over the wet concrete.

The city lights eventually began to blur together into smeared streaks of yellow and red. The sidewalk turned into a steep incline. I looked up through my wet eyelashes. I was walking up the pedestrian ramp of a massive suspension bridge.

The freezing wind howled off the dark water far below. It whipped my wet hair across my eyes. I walked to the edge of the metal railing. I looked down at the black, churning water.

It looked so quiet down there. So peaceful. No more screaming fathers. No more ruthless lawyers. No more pain.

My fingers went completely numb. I opened my hands and let go of my wet duffel bag. It dropped to the walkway, hitting the solid concrete with a dull, heavy thud.