Chapter 5: Rewrite Our Ending

Since my company was nearby, I decided to walk.

The cool night air helped clear my head. I wrapped my coat tighter, trying to steady my nerves.

While waiting for the light to change, I felt unsettled.

Something prickled at the back of my neck, a sense of unease I couldn’t shake.

The light turned green, and I stepped onto the crosswalk.

I took a deep breath, forcing myself to focus on the present. One step at a time.

Suddenly, a car sped through the red light, aiming right at me.

The screech of tires, the roar of the engine—it all happened in a split second. My heart leapt into my throat.

My eyes widened as I recognized the driver.

His face was twisted with rage, eyes wild. I froze, unable to move.

He was from a rival company.

We’d crossed paths before, always on opposite sides of the boardroom table. I knew he played dirty, but this was something else.

They’d targeted my family’s business before, and recently, I’d found evidence of their tax evasion.

I’d spent weeks gathering proof, determined to bring them down. I never thought they’d retaliate like this.

Because the Chase family was involved in some areas, I’d asked Chase to help dig deeper.

He’d agreed, promising to keep things quiet. I wondered if he knew how dangerous it had become.

At the same time, I’d stopped playing nice in business, pressing them hard at every turn.

I’d refused to back down, even when the threats started. My pride wouldn’t let me.

Now, they were desperate.

Desperate people do desperate things. I realized too late just how far they’d go.

So now they wanted to take me out too?

The thought barely registered before instinct took over. I braced myself, heart pounding.

All these thoughts flashed by in an instant. Before I could react, someone rushed over, pulling me into his arms and rolling us out of the way.

The world spun, headlights blurring past. I landed hard, breath knocked out of me, but alive.

I was completely unharmed, but I heard a muffled groan.

The sound snapped me back to reality. I scrambled to my knees, searching for the source.

Panicked, I looked up to see Noah’s face, pale from pain.

He clutched his side, blood seeping through his shirt. My heart stopped.

My mind went blank for a second. I called out, anxious, “Noah!”

My voice was shrill, desperate. I reached for him, hands shaking.

He seemed not to feel the pain. This villain from the story grinned at me, lips bloodless, eyes still smiling at the corners.

He managed a weak smile, eyes shining with something like relief. I wanted to shake him, to scream at him for being so reckless.

He even tried to comfort me. “I’m fine. Don’t worry.”

His voice was thin, but steady. I bit back a sob, refusing to let him see me cry.

Noah’s hand trembled as he checked the little box in his pocket, finally relieved.

He pulled it out, holding it up for me to see. The sapphire sparkled in the streetlight, unmarred.

“Good. The box isn’t broken.”

He grinned, triumphant, as if saving the gem mattered more than anything. I stared at him, torn between laughter and tears. In that moment, I realized: no matter how many times the story tried to rewrite itself, some things—some people—just refused to break. And thank God for that.