Married to a Billionaire Stranger

Chapter 29: Into the Fire

The fireball lit up the city skyline.

Ella and Xavier ducked instinctively as glass shattered from the force of the blast below. Flames licked the sides of a luxury sedan parked along the curb—their decoy car. Smoke rose fast, spiraling into the night.

Security rushed the penthouse. Sirens screamed in the distance.

Ella clutched Xavier's arm. "That was for us."

He nodded grimly. "They were sending a message."

But neither of them said what they both knew—next time, it wouldn't be a decoy.

Within the hour, they were gone.

---

They moved into a safehouse on the outskirts of the city. One of Xavier's oldest hideaways: modest, secured, and scrubbed from every system.

It was bare inside—no art, no history. Only alarms and weapon caches, reinforced walls, and blackout curtains.

Ella dropped her bag in the corner and stared out the window.

"This isn't living. This is hiding."

"We're alive," Xavier said. "That's the only way we keep winning."

She didn't argue.

---

The next morning, Ella sat cross-legged on the floor surrounded by papers, audio tapes, and photographs. Files from the opened Legacy vaults.

She held a name in her hands: Daniel Monroe.

A former legal adviser. Once trusted. Once vanished.

But there he was again—his name appearing as the last to access several internal files before they were sealed. Including those tied to her mother's institutionalization.

"He was on payroll until 2006," she muttered. "Then gone."

Xavier looked up from his laptop. "I've got his signature on the last living trust filed under Anthony's name. He knew about the child... you."

Ella drew a shaky breath. "Then we need to find him."

---

The search was brutal.

Aliases. Fake addresses. Dead ends.

But after three days, they got a hit.

A cabin property in Vermont—bought under a shell company Daniel had created two decades ago. Ella and Xavier left that night.

They traveled in silence.

"Do you think he'll talk?" she asked.

Xavier tightened his grip on the wheel. "If he doesn't, I will make him."

Ella didn't ask how.

---

The cabin was remote. Trees bent under the weight of late autumn snow. No lights on. No movement.

They approached cautiously.

Inside, it smelled of dust and stale wood. But a kettle sat on the stove, warm.

Someone had just been here.

Ella stepped toward the hallway. A creak behind her.

She turned.

An old man stood in the shadows. Thin. Balding. Haunted eyes.

"You shouldn't have come," he said.

"Daniel Monroe?" Xavier stepped forward.

"Go back. You don't understand what you're digging into."

Ella stared him down. "Then help us understand."

He sat slowly, as if the weight of history had finally crushed him.

"I tried to leave it behind. But you're her daughter. I see it now."

Ella stiffened. "You knew my mother."

"I helped put her away. On Charles King's orders. I wrote the recommendations. Falsified the diagnosis."

Her chest tightened. "Why?"

"Because she was going to expose Anthony. The child project. The surrogate plan. Everything."

"Was I that child?"

He looked at her. "I think so. They destroyed all biological proof. The one nurse who tried to save your mother? She came to me. And I turned her in."

Ella sat down. Her heart was thudding. "Then help us fix it."

He shook his head. "It's too late."

"It's not," Xavier said. "You'll testify. Write a statement. We still have the press, and we still have the evidence."

Daniel's hands trembled. "They'll kill me."

"They already tried to kill us. You think this ends when you stay quiet?"

He looked at them both. Broken. Afraid. And then, finally, resolved.

"Alright. I'll talk."

---

That night, Ella sat by the window while Xavier stood at the fireplace, staring into the flames.

"It's all happening so fast. We're finding the truth... but it's like peeling skin from bone."

He came to her, knelt, and took her hands.

"You're stronger than any legacy they tried to control. And you're not alone."

She leaned into him. "I'm scared."

"Me too. But I'd rather face this fear with you than live a lie without you."

The silence that followed was not empty—it was full. Of pain, trust, and something dangerous blossoming between them.