---- Chapter 15 Anya Warner POV: | walked back into the warmth of the house and straight into my mother' s waiting arms. The strength | had projected at the gate crumbled, and | leaned against her, feeling the bone- deep weariness of the past few months wash over me. From the corner of my eye, | saw my father give a curt nod to Marcus. The message was Clear: get him out of here. "What will you do with him?" | asked, my voice muffled against my mother's shoulder. My father came to stand beside me, his hand resting gently on my back. "That, my dear, is entirely up to you. | can make him disappear. He can have a tragic accident on his way home. No one would ever question it." The offer was chilling in its simplicity. He was offering me a clean slate, a world without Hamilton Glass in it. A few months ago, in the depths of my rage and pain, | might have said yes. But now... | looked out the window, at the dark silhouette of the man | once loved being loaded into an ambulance. Killing him would be too easy. It would be an ending. | didn't want him to have an ending. | wanted him to live. | wanted him to wake ---- up every single day for the rest of his life and be haunted by what he had thrown away. | wanted him to watch from the ruins of his life as | built an empire that would dwarf his own. "No," | said, my voice firm. "Let him live." | turned to face my father, my eyes clear and resolved. "Just make sure he understands. He is to never contact me again. Never speak my name. He is to stay out of my life, and the life of my child, forever. From this moment on, he is dead to me." Hamilton Glass POV: Fever. That's all | knew. A raging fire that consumed me from the inside out. The gunshots, the surgery, it all blurred into a hazy nightmare of pain and regret. | was adrift in a sea of white sheets and the sterile smell of a hospital room | vaguely recognized as my family's private clinic. In the moments of lucidity, her face was all | could see. Anya. Her cold eyes at the gate. Her words, "Your love was never brave enough," echoed in my head, a relentless torment. One night, through the fog of pain and medication, | heard voices. My grandfather. And Kacey. They were arguing in the hallway, their whispers sharp and venomous. "This is your fault!" Kacey hissed. "You told me to send her that video! You told me it would push him over the edge and force him to choose me!" ---- "And it worked, didn't it?" my grandfather's voice was a low snarl. "You got your wedding." "A wedding that ended in humiliation! He hates me now! And it was you who arranged the 'kidnapping' with the Verrattis! You told me it would be a simple scare, a way to frame Anya and get her out of the picture for good! You never told me she was Fred Warner's daughter!" My blood ran cold. The fever seemed to vanish, replaced by an arctic chill that seized my very soul. "Don't be a fool, girl," Grant snapped. "You think | wanted this? | needed a docile, controllable heir for Hamilton to marry. Someone | could mold. Someone who would secure the Nolan merger without question. | spent years grooming you for this role!" My back arched in the bed, a silent scream trapped in my throat. It was all a lie. All of it. Kacey wasn't a happy accident; she was a plant. The entire relationship had been a carefully orchestrated plot by the one man | had trusted above all others. He hadn't just manipulated me; he had built a false reality around me. The rage that filled me was a pure, white-hot force. It gave me a strength | didn't know | possessed. | threw back the covers and ripped the IV from my arm. With a roar, | stumbled out of the room. They both stared at me, their faces masks of shock and fear. ---- | ignored Kacey. My eyes were locked on my grandfather. "You," | rasped, my voice a broken thing. "It was all you." He tried to plaster a concerned look on his face. "Hamilton, son, you need to rest-" | swatted his hand away. "Was any of it real?" | demanded, my voice rising to a shout. "Did you have me followed? Were you watching my every move for years? Was my entire life just a game for you to play?" Kacey was chalk-white, unable to speak. My grandfather' s facade finally cracked. His face hardened, the fake concern replaced by cold, ruthless pragmatism. "| did what was necessary to protect the family legacy. She was a weakness you refused to cut out, so | did it for you." The confession, so blatant and unapologetic, broke something inside me. The last thread of loyalty, of family, of love for this man, snapped. | staggered toward him, my body shaking with a fury so intense it threatened to tear me apart. "You didn't protect anything," | whispered, my voice trembling with a terrifying calm. "You destroyed it." | stopped in front of him, the cold finality of my next words settling in the air. "As of this moment, you no longer have an heir. And | am no longer your grandson." My gaze shifted from his horrified face to Kacey's. "| am your enemy. And | will ---- spend the rest of my life tearing down everything you have built." The strength deserted me then. The world swam, black spots dancing in my vision. As | collapsed, the last thing | saw was Anya's face in my mind, her eyes at the gate, full of a pity that was worse than any hatred. | had lost her. And now, | had lost everything else. My last conscious thought was a vow. | would make them all pay. Kacey, my grandfather, the Verrattis... anyone who had a hand in hurting her. It was the only penance | had left.