Chapter 16

She sat curled up in the closet, gripping the gun too tight, her pulse hammering.

Outside, she could hear gunshots.

The echoing clash of bullets, the heavy footsteps, the violent grunts of pain.

Her breath was shallow, fear twisting inside her.

But then—

The footsteps stopped.

Silence.

Too much silence.

Then—

The closet door swung open.

She screamed, raising the gun, her fingers slipping on the trigger—

But it was not Richard.

It is the last man with them.

Towering over her, eyes cold, gun in his grip.

His smirk was slow, cruel.

"Found you."

Her stomach dropped.

Her hands shook.

He raised the gun—

And then—

BANG!

Blood splattered against the wall.

The man stumbled, eyes wide, disbelieving.

He hit the floor with a loud thud.

Everly stared, heart pounding out of her chest, her ears ringing—

The gun in her hands still smoking.

She had pulled the trigger.

She had killed him.

Her breath came out in shaky gasps, her stomach twisting, nausea crawling up her throat—

And then, a shadow filled the doorway.

Ethan.

His green eyes locked onto hers.

And in that moment, everything changed.

Her hands shook violently.

The gun slipped from her fingers, clattering onto the floor, her breath coming in shallow, uneven gasps.

The man lay crumpled at her feet, a pool of dark red spreading beneath him, his empty eyes staring into nothing.

She had pulled the trigger.

She had killed him.

Her stomach twisted, bile rising in her throat.

And then—

Ethan was there.

He stood in the doorway, his green eyes locked onto hers, unreadable, sharp but not cruel.

Not judging.

Not disgusted.

Just… watching.

Taking in everything.

Her trembling legs gave out, and before she could collapse, he moved, closing the space between them fast, effortlessly, his arms catching her.

"Breathe." His voice was low, steady, his grip firm but gentle.

She let out a shuddering breath, fisting his shirt, trying to anchor herself to something—anything—before she completely fell apart.

"I—I didn't mean to," she stammered, her words choking on the panic, her vision blurred with tears.

He exhaled slowly. "Yes, you did."

Her head snapped up, shock flashing in her tear-filled eyes.

But he wasn't cruel about it.

Wasn't harsh.

He was just… telling the truth.

She had meant to.

She had wanted to live.

And that man had stood between her and everything she loved.

Everly swallowed hard, trying to slow her ragged breathing.

Ethan's thumb brushed against her cheek, wiping away a stray tear, his voice lower now, softer.

"Good."

She blinked. "What?"

"You did what you had to," he murmured, his gaze unwavering. "That's good."

She wanted to argue.

Wanted to tell him he was wrong, that she wasn't like this, that she had never thought she'd take a life.

But she couldn't.

Because somewhere deep down, she knew he was right.

She had done what was necessary.

What was inevitable.

And she would have to live with it.

But before she could spiral again—

A voice from outside the closet snapped them both back to reality.

"Ethan!"

Ethan's jaw clenched.

Everly tensed.

Because she knew that voice.

Richard.

Ethan pulled back, his hands still holding her steady, his green eyes darkening.

"It's time to finish this," he muttered.

She swallowed, her fingers still clutching his arm, her chest still rising and falling too fast.

But when he turned toward the door—

She followed.

Because this wasn't over.

Not yet.

The penthouse was a battlefield.

Blood on the floor.

Broken glass.

The stench of gunpowder still thick in the air.

And in the center of it all—

Richard Sinclair stood tall, gun raised, mouth twisted into a cruel smirk.

Behind him, Eleanor leaned against the shattered window, her expression composed but her grip on the pistol shaking ever so slightly.

They knew.

They had already lost.

But they weren't going to go down quietly.

Ethan stepped forward, calm, steady, his own gun still firm in his grip.

"You never knew when to stop," Richard muttered, shaking his head. "Even when we gave you an easy way out."

Ethan smirked. "You call trying to kill me an easy way out?"

Richard chuckled darkly. "It was supposed to be painless."

Everly let out a sharp breath, her hands clenching at her sides.

"You tried to kill your own nephew," she spat, her voice trembling with anger.

Eleanor's cold eyes flickered toward her, her lips curling. "You wouldn't understand, dear. This is business."

Ethan's blood boiled.

"You mean greed," he corrected. "You wanted me gone because I stood in your way. Because I didn't let you bleed the company dry."

Richard tilted his head. "And yet, here we are."

Ethan exhaled slowly.

His fingers flexed on the trigger.

And then—he fired.

BANG!

A direct hit.

Richard stumbled back, a deep groan tearing from his throat as the bullet buried itself in his shoulder.

Eleanor screamed, raising her gun—

Everly moved before she could think, grabbing the gun Ethan had given her—

And firing.

The bullet whizzed past Eleanor's ear, making her freeze, her chest heaving.

Ethan moved fast, closing the distance, kicking Richard's gun away before aiming directly at his uncle's head.

Richard looked up, his breath ragged, his smirk faltering.

Ethan stared down at him, his finger hovering over the trigger.

"Do it," Richard sneered, blood dripping from his lips. "End it."

Ethan exhaled.

His hands didn't shake.

His mind didn't waver.

But—

He wouldn't give them the satisfaction.

Instead, he leaned down, his voice dangerously low.

"You'll wish I did."

Then—sirens.

The flashing lights of police cars outside the penthouse windows.

The distant sound of boots storming up the building.

Eleanor's face drained of color.

Richard let out a dark, bitter laugh.

Ethan stepped back, his gun still trained on them.

"You're finished," he said simply.

Eleanor's lips pressed together, her fingers trembling as she dropped the gun with a soft clink.

Richard just sat there, his breathing shallow, his eyes burning with defeat.

And when the door burst open, officers flooding in, their guns raised—

Ethan finally let out the breath he had been holding for three years.

It was over.

Finally, over.

Richard and Eleanor were arrested on multiple charges—fraud, embezzlement, attempted murder. Ethan had handed over every piece of evidence he had, ensuring they wouldn't escape the weight of their crimes.

It made headlines.

The once-powerful Sinclairs, brought down by their own greed and cruelty.

But Ethan didn't care about the headlines.

All that mattered was that it was over.

The company was his now, but it always had been. His uncle and aunt had just been parasites, leeching off what they didn't build. Now, they would rot in prison where they belonged.

As for Everly—

She was free.

Her brothers were safe, finally able to return home without the looming shadow of danger over them. Ethan had made sure of it.

And her?

She tried to return to her old life.

Tried to go back to the woman she was before him.

But something had changed.

Something inside her had shifted, impossible to undo.

Because she wasn't just a nurse who had fallen into a mess she never asked for.

She had loved him.

Had given him everything, let him consume her in ways she hadn't thought possible.

And now, she didn't know where that left them.

Ethan didn't stop her when she said she needed time.

Didn't beg her to stay.

He simply looked at her, green eyes calm, steady, unreadable.

And then he said—

"I'll be waiting."

Because he would.

Because this wasn't the end of them.

It was just the beginning.

They moved in with him.

Ethan wouldn't have had it any other way.

His penthouse, once cold and quiet, became a home.

John was sent to the best university in the country, his tuition paid in full. No more worries, no more sleepless nights wondering if they could afford the future.

Mark and Leo adapted to the lifestyle of the wealthy, surrounded by luxuries they had never imagined—private tutors, vacations, access to everything Ethan's name could provide.

And yet, their hearts remained humble.

Because they had been raised by her.

By a sister who had sacrificed everything for them.

And now?

She didn't have to fight alone anymore.

She had Ethan.

They moved into his ancestral estate, the grand mansion that his uncle had stolen from him.

It was his again.

His family's again.

But this time, it wasn't just his home.

It was theirs.

And life had never been better.

Love and Laughter

Ethan had never thought he would have this.

Waking up next to her, every morning, her hair spilling across his chest, her breath warm against his skin.

He had never thought he would laugh so much, that his days would be filled with something other than business, power, revenge.

Now, it was filled with her.

With her brothers.

With life.

They spent their days living freely, their nights wrapped up in each other, their mornings filled with lazy kisses and playful teasing.

One evening, as they lounged in the massive estate, curled up on the couch with her in his lap, Ethan smirked and ran a hand down her thigh.

"You miss my wheelchair, don't you?" he murmured, lips ghosting over her ear.

She snorted, swatting his arm, her face turning red.

"Shut up," she muttered.

But the way she bit her lip, the way her body heated at the memory—

Yeah.

She missed it.

And he wasn't about to let her forget.

Because their love story wasn't about how they started.

It was about how they chose each other, over and over again.

And for Ethan—

She would always be his greatest victory.

And his greatest love.

Forever.