Chapter 50 Parker
PARKER
My head is pounding.
That’s the first thing I’m aware of. A dull, throbbing ache that radiates from the base of my skull up through my temples. The second thing is the zip ties cutting into my wrists, binding them behind what feels like a wooden chair.
The third thing is panic.
The boys.
My heart starts racing, adrenaline cutting through the fog of whatever drugs are still in my system. Noah and Liam. Are they safe? Did someone go after them? Did Ryan somehow get to them while I was unconscious?
No. No, they’re at Maria’s estate. With Mom. With Sienna. With Jimmy and Lottie. Protected by Maria’s security, by Charles’s resources, by everyone who matters.
They’re safe.
I force myself to breathe. In through my nose, out through my mouth. Focus. Assess. Don’t spiral.
I’m in a room. Nice room, actually. Hardwood floors, exposed beam ceiling, large windows showing mountain views. A rental property, maybe. Definitely not a warehouse or some horror movie basement. Whoever took me wants me conscious and relatively comfortable.
Which means they want something.
I try to piece together what happened. Marcus was driving me to the tarmac. We were talking about the boys, about how excited they’d be when I got back from Asheville. Then another car, swerving into our lane, the sickening crunch of metal on metal as we were T-boned at the intersection.
Marcus tried to swerve. I remember his hands jerking the wheel, his voice shouting something I couldn’t make out over the sound of the crash.
Then someone at my door. Concerned voice asking if I was okay, if I needed help. I was disoriented, the airbag had deployed, my head was spinning, and this person seemed so helpful, so genuine.
And then nothing. Darkness. Must have drugged me. Needle or cloth over my face, I can’t remember which.
Stupid. So fucking stupid.
I left my children. Left them safe at Maria’s estate because I trusted a video call.
Because I saw Cal’s face on my phone screen, heard his voice, heard Jace and Silas in the background.
Because they told me Ryan and Aria were handled, that there was a meeting in Asheville, that Charles wanted me there.
Except it wasn’t them.
Someone used Cal’s face. Used sophisticated deepfake technology to impersonate him on a video call. Used voice cloning to make Jace and Silas sound real in the background.
And I fell for it like an amateur.
God, I’m furious with myself. I know better. I was raised in this life, I know the tricks, the manipulations, the ways people exploit trust. And yet I let someone use my love for those three men against me.
Because I wanted to believe it. Because I missed them. Because I wanted to see them and talk to them and finally open those DNA results together like we planned.
My boys are safe. I repeat it like a mantra, like a prayer, like the only thing keeping me from completely losing my shit. They’re with family. They’re protected. Whatever happens to me, they’re safe.
But what about Jace, Cal, and Silas? Do they know I’ve been taken? Are they walking into a trap thinking they’re rescuing me? Is this whole thing designed to lure them into danger?
My chest tightens. If something happens to them because of me, if they get hurt trying to save me from my own stupidity, I’ll never forgive myself.
Focus, Parker. Assess the situation. Find a way out.
I test the zip ties. Tight. Professional grade, not the cheap ones you can snap with enough force. My ankles are bound to the chair legs too. More zip ties. Whoever did this knows what they’re doing.
The chair is solid wood, heavy. Even if I could stand, I wouldn’t be able to move quickly or quietly with it attached to me.
I scan the room, looking for anything I can use. The windows are closed but not barred. If I could get to one, maybe break it, maybe scream for help. But we’re in the mountains. Isolated. Nearest neighbor could be miles away.
My phone. Where’s my phone?
Not in my pocket. Not on the floor nearby. Gone. Of course it’s gone. They’d have taken it immediately.
No phone. No way to call for help. No way to message Jace, Cal, or Silas. No way to tell them this is a trap, if they don’t already know.
I’m on my own.
The thought should terrify me. Six years ago, it would have. Six years ago, I ran because I couldn’t handle the weight of being a Carter, couldn’t handle the violence and the danger and the constant threat.
But that was before Noah and Liam. Before I learned what it means to fight for something that matters more than fear.
I’m not the same woman who ran to California.
I’m a mother. An , like Cal said. Someone who will do whatever it takes to protect her family.
And right now, my family needs me to survive this. Needs me to stay calm, stay smart, find a way out or at least buy time until help arrives.
I hear footsteps outside the room. Slow, deliberate. Someone’s coming.
I force my expression neutral. Don’t show fear. Don’t show panic. Whatever’s coming, I face it with my head up.
The door opens.
And Aria walks in.
For a moment, I just stare. Because this doesn’t make sense. Aria is Dominic’s widow, the trophy wife who lives in the guest house on the estate. The woman I physically threw out of my house when she showed up uninvited. The woman Silas shoved away when she tried to make a scene.
What is she doing here?
“Aria?” My voice comes out rougher than I’d like, the drugs still affecting me. “What the hell is going on? Did Ryan take you too?”
She smiles. It’s not a nice smile. It’s cold and calculated and completely at odds with the ditzy blonde persona she’s been playing since I came home.
“Oh, Parker,” she says, and there’s something in her voice I’ve never heard before. Something sharp and dangerous and entirely too pleased with itself. “You really have no idea, do you?”
“No idea about what?”
“About any of it.” She moves closer, her heels clicking on the hardwood floor.
She’s dressed like she’s going to brunch, not participating in a kidnapping.
Designer dress, perfect hair, flawless makeup.
“You came home and everyone just fell in line. Charles gave you power in the organization. Jace, Cal, and Silas circled you like sharks. Even your mother came back to the estate. Everything just worked out for Parker Carter.”
There’s venom in her voice now. Bitterness that I’m only just hearing for the first time.
“While I,” she continues, pulling up a chair and sitting across from me like we’re having tea, “I got shoved into a guest house like a piece of furniture Dominic left behind. Given a monthly allowance like a child. Treated like I’m too stupid to understand what’s happening around me.”
Understanding starts to dawn. Cold and terrible.
“You,” I say slowly. “You set this up. The video call. The kidnapping. This was you.”
“Finally catching on.” Aria crosses her legs, perfectly poised. “Though I had help. Ryan’s been very useful. Motivated by his own ambitions, of course, but useful nonetheless.”
“Why?” The word comes out harder than I intend, anger bleeding through. “Why do this? If you wanted a role in the organization, if you wanted Charles to take you seriously, attacking my children isn’t exactly a stellar resume builder.”
She laughs. Actually laughs, the sound bright and sharp.
“Because asking doesn’t work, Parker. Because I’ve been asking for four years and no one listens.
Charles looks right through me. Your mother pities me.
The entire organization treats me like I’m just Dominic’s pretty widow who doesn’t understand business. ”
“So you decided to prove you’re dangerous instead of capable?”
“I decided to prove I’m both.” She leans forward slightly, and I can see the intelligence in her eyes now.
The calculation. The competence everyone missed because they were too busy dismissing her as arm candy.
“I built the deepfake that lured you here, Parker. Me. Not some hired tech expert. Me. I spoofed Cal’s number, cloned his face, synthesized the voices. All me.”
My blood runs cold. “You’re Ryan’s partner in this and better with IT than we thought. You’re the one who’s been building his network, coordinating the attacks, and staying ten steps ahead.”
“And Charles never suspected.” There’s satisfaction in her voice, pride even. “Because I’m just Aria. Just the trophy wife. Just the woman who cares about shoes and shopping and which charity gala to attend.”
She’s right. We all underestimated her. Completely.
“You attacked children,” I say, my voice going flat and hard. “Noah, Liam, Jimmy, Lottie. You put four five-year-olds in danger at that park.”
“I sent a message,” she corrects, like there’s a meaningful difference. “No one was supposed to get hurt. The snipers had orders to miss. It was about showing that the Carter protection isn’t as solid as everyone thinks. That there are cracks.”
“It was about revenge,” I counter. “About making me suffer because you’re pissed at Charles for treating you like furniture.”
“I’m angry at all of you!” Aria’s composure cracks slightly, real emotion bleeding through. “You got everything, Parker. The organization, the power, three men who worship you, children who are loved and protected. What did I get? A guest house and dismissal.”
“You married my father for power,” I point out. “That was your choice.”
“My father married me to Dominic to cover his debts!” Aria’s voice rises. “I was twenty-one years old, pulled out of Ohio State, forced to marry a man decades older who saw me as property. I didn’t choose that, Parker. It was chosen for me.”
For a moment, I see it. The parallel between us. Both of us trapped by the organization, by men who made choices for us, by a system that values women for their relationships to powerful men rather than their own capabilities.
The difference is, I got out. I ran, had my children, built a life away from it all.
Aria stayed. And festered.