Chapter 5 - The Break-In
Mike picked up on the first ring. “What’s wrong?”
“Someone broke in,” Emily whispered, her voice shaking. “Glass broke downstairs. Elias went to check. Hurry.”
“We’re on our way. Thirty seconds. Lock the door. Don’t open it for anyone but me or Elias. Got it?”
“Got it.”
She hung up, sliding the deadbolt on the bedroom door, then grabbed her robe, running to the nursery next door. Liam was still asleep, his thumb in his mouth, completely oblivious. She picked him up, holding him tight against her chest, his warmth seeping through his pajamas, and backed into the corner of the room, farthest from the door. She could hear voices downstairs—low, angry, men’s voices. The sound of drawers being yanked open, things being thrown. Then a loud bang, like someone had been thrown into a wall.
“Where is it?” a voice she didn’t recognize yelled. “Tell me where the fucking hard drive is, Voss, or I’ll blow your brains out.”
Emily’s blood ran cold. Elias. He was downstairs with them. Alone.
She slid down the wall, holding Liam tighter, tears running down her face. She’d just found him. Just found happiness. She couldn’t lose him now. Not like this.
Then she heard the elevator doors ding. Loud voices. Shouting. A gunshot.
Emily screamed.
The nursery door burst open two seconds later. She flinched, holding Liam tighter, ready to fight—until she saw it was Mike, his gun drawn, his face white.
“Emily,” he said, lowering the gun. “It’s okay. It’s over. We got them. Come on. Elias is downstairs. He’s hurt, but he’s alive.”
The words barely registered. She stood up on shaking legs, Liam still in her arms, and followed Mike down the stairs. The living room was a mess—coffee table overturned, books scattered everywhere, a bullet hole in the wall above the couch. Two men in black ski masks were on the floor, their hands zip-tied behind their backs, surrounded by four security guards with guns drawn.
And Elias was sitting on the floor, leaning against the couch, holding a blood-soaked towel to his left arm.
Emily ran over to him, dropping to her knees. “Oh my god. Elias. You’re shot.”
“Hey.” He smiled, his face pale, reaching up to brush her hair off her face with his good hand. “I’m fine. Just a graze. The guy missed. I’m tougher than I look.”
The paramedics arrived five minutes later, cutting off Elias’s shirt to clean and bandage the wound on his upper arm—really was just a graze, deep enough to need stitches but not dangerous. The police showed up ten minutes after that, taking statements, arresting the two intruders, taking photos of the mess.
One of the cops pulled Elias aside a few minutes later. “We ID’d the two guys. Both have records for armed robbery, assault, home invasion. The one who talked? He’s already singing. Says a guy named Brandon Carter paid him and his partner fifty thousand dollars each to break in, steal a hard drive, and ‘rough up’ anyone who got in the way. Says Brandon promised them another fifty if they made it look like a robbery gone wrong.”
Elias glanced at Emily, his jaw tight. “Did he now?”
“Yep.” The cop nodded. “We’ve got enough for an arrest warrant for Brandon on attempted murder, conspiracy, home invasion, and theft. We’ll pick him up by the end of the day.”
Once the cops and paramedics were gone, the cleaning crew arrived to fix up the mess. Marta took Liam back to the nursery to get him back to sleep, and Emily sat next to Elias on the couch, dabbing at the cut on his cheek with a wet cloth.
“You scared me,” she said, her voice quiet. “When I heard the gunshot, I thought—”
“I know.” He took her hand, lacing his fingers through hers. “I’m sorry. I should have waited for Mike. But when I heard them in the office, going through the desk where we kept the hard drive, I just reacted. I couldn’t let them get it. Not after everything we’ve been through.”
He paused, then squeezed her hand. “But it’s okay. We got them. And Brandon is going to jail. For a long time. This is the last time he’ll ever be able to hurt us.”
He was right. By noon that day, the Chicago Police Department had issued an arrest warrant for Brandon Carter on six felony counts. By two p.m., they’d found him hiding out in a cabin his family owned in Michigan, and arrested him without incident. The news broke within minutes: BRANDON CARTER ARRESTED FOR ATTEMPTED MURDER, HOME INVASION, PLOTTING TO STEAL EVIDENCE IN FRAUD CASE.
The stock dropped another 15%. The Tribune ran a front-page headline the next morning that read: CARTER EMPIRE IN RUINS: HEIR IN JAIL, CEO OUSTED, FRAUD PROOF MOUNTS.
Charles and Margaret didn’t issue a statement. They didn’t answer their phones. They didn’t show up to Brandon’s arraignment. According to the paparazzi photos posted online, they’d locked themselves in their Winnetka mansion, drawing all the curtains, refusing to talk to anyone.
Emily looked at the photos of her parents—small, defeated, hiding from the world they’d once ruled—and felt nothing. No sadness. No guilt. Just a quiet, cold satisfaction. They’d done this to themselves. They’d chosen money over their own daughter, over their own grandson, over doing the right thing. And now they had nothing.
A week later, Elias was cleared by the doctor to go back to work. His arm was still in a sling, but he insisted he was fine. That night, he came home from the office with a small velvet box in his hand.
They were sitting on the balcony, drinking wine, watching the sunset over the lake, Liam asleep in his bassinet next to them. Elias pulled the box out of his pocket, setting it on the table between them.
“I know this is fast,” he said, his voice a little nervous. “I know we’ve only been back in each other’s lives for a few weeks. But I’ve known I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you since that night in New York. You’re the strongest, bravest, kindest person I’ve ever met. And Liam is the best thing that ever happened to me. I don’t want to just be your co-parent. I don’t want to just be your boyfriend. I want to be your husband. I want to wake up next to you every morning for the next fifty years. I want to watch Liam grow up. I want all of it. With you.”
He opened the box. Inside was a ring—simple, elegant, a two-carat round diamond set in a thin platinum band. It was perfect.
Emily stared at him, tears running down her face. “Elias…”
“Will you marry me?” he asked, his blue eyes earnest. “Not because of the baby. Not because of the lawsuit. Because you love me. Because I love you. Because we’re better together than we are apart.”
Emily didn’t even have to think about it. She nodded, throwing her arms around his neck, careful of his injured arm, and kissed him. “Yes. A thousand times yes.”
He slipped the ring onto her finger, then pulled her close, kissing her again, the sunset painting the sky pink and orange behind them. For a second, everything was perfect.
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But they both knew the hardest part was still ahead. The trial. The Carters’ last stand. The final fight that would decide once and for all who won the war for the Carter empire.
And neither of them had any idea how brutal it was going to get.
