Chapter 6 - The Hidden Dossier
My ears rang violently as I hit the hard marble floor of the balcony.
Ryan covered my body completely with his own, shielding me from the showering shards of broken glass.
"Stay down!" he shouted, pulling a hidden communication device from his tuxedo jacket.
Within seconds, three massive security guards burst through the shattered doors with weapons drawn.
Ryan lifted me off the floor, keeping his hand firmly pressed against the back of my head.
We moved in a tight, terrifying formation through the screaming chaos of the gala.
They shoved us into the back of a waiting armored SUV, the tires screeching violently as we fled.
I was trembling so hard my teeth were physically chattering in the cold vehicle.
"Are you hurt?" Ryan demanded, his hands frantically checking my arms and shoulders.
"I... I don't think so," I stammered, completely overwhelmed by the sudden violence.
He suddenly cursed, pressing his warm thumb gently against my upper forearm.
A tiny, sharp piece of flying glass had sliced a thin red line across my skin.
We didn't go back to the luxurious penthouse in the city.
The driver navigated deep into the remote mountains, pulling up to an isolated, heavily fortified cabin.
Once we were safely inside, Ryan immediately retrieved a pristine first aid kit from the kitchen.
He gently cleaned the small cut on my arm, his touch incredibly tender for a man so powerful.
"I am so sorry I brought you into this danger, Ellie," he murmured, avoiding my gaze completely.
"Who is shooting at us, Ryan?" I asked, my voice finally finding some steady ground.
"The Sterlings are getting desperate, but I won't let them hurt you," he promised fiercely.
He finished bandaging my arm and stepped out into the hallway to speak securely with his security chief.
I was left alone in the dimly lit study, surrounded by massive wooden bookshelves.
I walked over to the heavy oak desk, looking for a simple pen to tie my hair back.
My hand accidentally brushed against a thick, black leather folder resting under a stack of newspapers.
The folder slipped open, revealing a high-resolution photograph of me wiping down tables at the diner.
My breath caught entirely in my throat as I frantically flipped through the pages.
There were bank statements, background checks, and hundreds of daily surveillance photos of me.
The very first date on the security log was from exactly three years ago.
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Ryan Blackwood hadn't randomly chosen me at that wedding to be his fake wife.
He had been secretly watching my every move long before Daniel ever broke my heart.
