Chapter 41
Forty-One
“N o.” Tristan’s voice was sharp as he stood in front of Ruth’s wheelchair, blocking her way.
“Yes,” she shot back, gripping the armrests as if sheer will could push her forward.
Noah stood off to the side, arms crossed, lips pressed into a tight line. He wasn’t arguing yet, but she could feel the tension rolling off him in waves.
Tristan exhaled slowly, carefully measuring his tone. “Ruth, you just had another transfusion. You’re still weak. You’re not… Besides, how are you going to get there?”
“I am not fragile,” she snapped, her hands tightening into fists. “I am not going to sit here like some broken thing while everyone else figures out my life for me. I can call an Uber.”
Tristan blew out an exasperated breath. “I am not saying you’re fragile, Ruth. I’m saying this is reckless. You’re pushing yourself too hard, too fast. And you’re not calling an Uber.”
She glared in his direction, blind but furious. “You don’t get to decide that. And if you stop me, you’re holding me hostage. I’ll call the police.”
Noah finally spoke, voice quiet but thick. “Rae, we don’t even know if?—”
“I need to,” she cut him off, voice shaking. “I need to go back. I need to feel it. Smell it. Walk through it.” Her breath hitched. “I need to remember.”
The room fell silent.
Paul, who had been observing, finally spoke. His voice was calm, almost too calm, but it carried weight. “From a psychiatric standpoint, it might not be a bad idea.”
Tristan turned to him, frustrated. “Paul.”
Paul shrugged. “I’m serious. We’ve been waiting for her to piece things together on her own. Maybe this, going back to where it happened, will unlock what’s been blocked. If you disagree, speak to your psychiatric staff.”
Tristan exhaled sharply. “And if it breaks her instead?”
Paul tilted his head. “It might.” He looked at Ruth. “But she’s asking for this. And that means something.”
Noah cursed, “Damn it.”
Ruth turned her face toward him. “Noah.”
His teeth ground. He was unraveling. She could feel it.
Finally, after a long, heavy pause, he let out a defeated sigh. “Fine. I’ll take you.”
Tristan muttered something under his breath, clearly displeased, but he didn’t fight it.
Because this was Ruth’s choice. And she had already made it.
* * *
The moment Noah pushed open the glass doors to the building, Ruth inhaled sharply.
The smell hit her first—coffee, fresh ink, and the faintest trace of industrial cleaner. The kind that always lingered on polished tile.
The sounds came next. Phones ringing, keyboards clacking, the distant murmur of voices filtering through the space like an old memory. “My goodness, Ruth.” Lucy, the firm’s receptionist, embraced her.
“Lucy.” She hugged her back.
As soon as Lucy released her, Noah guided her, his hand warm on her back.
As she continued down the corridor, a voice called out, “ Well, well, if it isn’t Ruth Everhart.”
Ruth smiled instinctively, recognizing the deep baritone of Mac, the security guard who had been working at the building for years. “Hi, Mac,” she said softly.
Mac let out a low whistle. “Damn, kiddo. You gave us all a scare.”
She let out a small, breathy laugh. “Sorry about that.”
Mac hesitated, and she could feel the shift in the air—the things unsaid. Then, gently, he reached out and squeezed her hand. “Good to have you back.”
Noah pressed her toward her office. She remained silent, the anticipation growing in her stomach. He guided her through the space, past familiar desks and hallways. “Your waiting area,” he whispered.
Then, she stopped. She half expected Matt Brandt to come in. But she knew he’d been arrested. Her fingertips brushed against something. Melanie’s desk.
Something inside her broke free. Ruth dropped to her knees, blindly feeling for her boots. Boots that weren’t there. Her breath caught. Something flashed behind her closed eyes. And then…
“I was standing right here, by Melanie’s desk. It was a long day. I was tired. I bent down to get my boots.” Her fingers moved against the carpet. “And then—an envelope. Leaning inside Melanie’s boot, barely noticeable. A simple yellow envelope. Verdant Horizons. Fairchild’s accounts. In the moment, it didn’t register. I was just tired. Just ready to go home with you. God, Noah—now it clicks.”
She rolled from her knees and sat on the floor, the memories coming alive, sucking her into the past. “Later that night…sitting across from you, Noah, at the steakhouse. Laughing, teasing, bantering. You’re smirking at me over your steak.
“We’re outside. You’re teasing me about making love to me, and I’m rolling my eyes, pretending to be exasperated, but I’m smiling. I’m happy. The air is crisp, my heels clicking against the pavement. You’re just behind me, half a step off, still teasing. I reach for my key fob…”
She stopped talking aloud. Her breaths came faster.
And in that split second before the explosion—I look up. And I see him. Blake Ellison. My father’s friend. My boss. The man who hired me.
His eyes lock with mine across the lot. And then…
BOOM! The blast rips through the night, swallowing everything in fire and heat.
She shuddered, the memory crashing over her like a tidal wave, pulling her under, under, under. She reached blindly in the dark, her fingers searching, trembling. Her body convulsed, a guttural sob ripping from her throat.
Noah was there, dropping beside her, his arms wrapping around her instinctively. “Rae! Talk to me!” His voice was panicked but steady. Anchoring her. He was there. Warm. Solid. Real.
She gripped his jacket like a lifeline. Her voice shook. “I saw him.”
Noah’s body stilled. “Who?”
She shuddered, gasping for air. “Blake Ellison.”
The room went silent. Noah’s arms tightened around her.
“Noah…” Her voice was barely a whisper, her breath shaking. “I saw him.”
His grip tightened, like he already knew, like he already understood what she was saying.
Her voice cracked as she forced out the truth, the sight that changed everything. “Blake Ellison. He was there.”
Then—
A voice—low. Calculated. Cold. “You weren’t supposed to see me.”
Noah’s head snapped up as Blake stepped into the office doorway, his expression eerily calm. Ruth’s breath hitched.
Blake tilted his head. “You stopped. It was supposed to be quick and fast.”
Noah’s hand hovered over his gun. “You blew up her car.”
Blake sighed. “It wasn’t personal. Just business.”
Ruth’s vision flickered. At first, it was shadows. Then—colors. Noah’s outline. Blake’s smirk. Her vision was coming back.
Blake’s expression darkened. And then—he pulled a gun.
Noah moved fast, pushing Ruth behind him. “Drop the gun, Ellison.”
Blake’s finger hovered over the trigger.
But Ruth spoke, her voice calm, steady. “Blake…you don’t want to do this.”
He hesitated.
She kept going, “You were my dad’s friend. You knew me when I was little. You were there at my father’s funeral.”
Blake’s jaw tightened.
“You don’t want any more of my blood on your hands,” she murmured. “Because you already have enough.”
Silence.
Then, the gun clattered to the floor. Blake’s shoulders sagged, his expression haunted.
Noah pushed to his feet, drawing Ruth to her feet with him. As he shielded her, he kicked the gun away and handcuffed Ellison. “Why?”
Blake exhaled slowly, then cleared his throat like this was just another meeting, like he wasn’t explaining why he tried to kill her. "It was to protect the firm, Ruth. That’s all." His voice was steady, but she could hear it beneath—the exhaustion, the justification, the damn near certainty he had done what needed to be done.
"Matt Brandt—the night of the party. It was clear he crossed the line. And it was even clearer that, if we didn’t do something, you were going to push the issue."
She felt Noah tense beside her, but she didn’t look at him. She couldn’t.
"There were others before, you know," Blake continued, his tone almost… casual. "Women we paid off. Women who took the money and kept their mouths shut. But you—" He sighed, shaking his head. "You weren’t going to accept a payoff. And there was no way to discredit you."
His eyes met hers, cold and certain. "You are too good an attorney."
Ruth swallowed hard. “I always wanted to be seen as a threat. I never considered it would get me killed.”
Blake tilted his head, his expression darkening. "I knew Dylan was in deep trouble—gambling debts, unpaid markers, getting reckless. When we got back to the office that night, he cracked. Confessed that Fairchild held the mark. And the night Dylan was killed, that little shit Brandt confessed he and Dylan gave up Hilton’s location."
Noah stiffened, his fists clenched, but Blake wasn’t looking at him. His focus was on Ruth.
"If you started digging at Brandt, he'd try to save himself and take Dylan and the firm down with him. I couldn’t have that." Blake exhaled, like this was some burden he had carried for too long, like he was the one who had suffered in all of this.
"I was going to take you out over our holiday break, make it look like an accident. But then that idiot Brandt threatened you, and you ran."
Ruth swallowed down a wave of bile.
Blake’s mouth flattened into a line, like he was annoyed at how complicated it had all become. "I placed the bomb that day."
The breath Ruth took felt shallow, like the room had shrunk around her.
"Then Noah got picked up by the FBI." Blake’s gaze flickered toward Noah, something unreadable in his expression. "And when you came to me, Ruth—" His lips curved into something that might have been a smile, if it wasn’t so detached. "At first, I was flattered."
Noah made a low, dangerous sound, but Blake continued, unfazed, "Then Dylan tried to stop you. You were clearly upset. Dylan came to me, said Melanie thought you may have seen the thumb drive holding Hilton’s records."
Her pulse pounded in my ears. The thumb drive. She had seen it. She had touched it. “I just didn’t know what I was looking at.”
"Noah, you kept close to the vest. You told me Hilton came to you, but you didn’t say you had the files. I figured if you were both gone, the firm was safe."
Noah’s grip tightened at her side, and she felt it—the quiet, controlled rage simmering beneath his skin.
Blake sighed. "I followed you to the steakhouse and waited. The bomb was on a short wavelength. One more step. I heard the fob beep, and I pushed the button."
His tone never wavered. Like he was just reciting facts. Like she was supposed to understand.
Noah’s breath shuddered, his muscles coiled tight, and for a second, she thought he was going to lunge.
But he didn’t.
Instead, he whispered, "You stood there and watched. You looked her in the eyes before you did it."
Blake shrugged. "I did."
Noah shook his head. “You hired a nurse to slip blood thinner beneath her cast.
Blake shifted his jaw back and forth. “The choice was a quick death or the blood thinner. The fact was, she was never alone. So under the cast was the choice. She'd drift away slowly, quietly, relatively painlessly, with no one noticing until it was too late.
And that was it. No excuses. No begging. Just the simple truth of it. He tried to kill her. And he didn’t regret it.
Alex arrived in time to hear the final words. As Alex took Blake into custody, Ruth exhaled shakily. Noah cupped her face, searching her eyes.
Her wide, teary gaze locked onto his. And for the first time in weeks, she saw him.