I Saved My Boss's Mute Daughter From His Cruel Fiancée Now I'm Being Framed

"Ten minutes," I gasped, the words tearing at my throat. "Grant, he has my mother. We have to give him the drive. If he flips that switch—"

"If we give him the drive, he kills her anyway to tie up loose ends, and then he kills us," Grant said, his voice dropping into a register of absolute, icy calm. He gripped my shoulders, grounding me in the chaotic swirl of the 57th floor. "Arthur is a chess player. He thinks I'm going to panic. But he forgot who built this board."

Grant pulled out his phone and hit a speed dial. It was answered on the first ring.

"Marcus," Grant ordered, not wasting a single second on pleasantries. "Arthur Sterling is making a play. He has men at St. Jude, threatening Emma's mother. You have exactly eight minutes to secure her floor."

"I'm already three blocks away, Boss," Marcus's gruff voice came through the speaker. "I brought the heavy response team. Nobody touches the old lady on my watch."

"Do not let them see you coming," Grant warned. "If he thinks we're stalling, he'll give the order."

"Understood. Moving in."

Grant hung up and looked at me, his eyes softening just a fraction. "I promise you, Emma. I won't let anything happen to her."

"What do we do for the next eight minutes?" my hands were shaking so badly I could barely form a fist.

"We walk down to the lobby," Grant said, adjusting his cuffs with a terrifyingly casual flick of his wrists. "And we lie to his face."

He grabbed a blank USB drive from a nearby accountant’s desk, identical to the one we’d pulled from Arthur’s safe. He slipped the real drive containing the audio confession deep into his inner jacket pocket, holding the fake one in his hand.

We stepped into the glass elevator. As we descended the sixty floors, I watched the city blur past. My heart was pounding a frantic rhythm against my ribs. I wasn't a spy. I wasn't a billionaire. I was just a nanny trying to keep her family alive. But looking at Grant, standing tall and utterly fearless beside me, I realized I wasn't alone anymore.

Ding.

The elevator doors slid open to the grand, marble-floored lobby of Callahan Industrial Tower.

It was completely empty.

Arthur had triggered a false fire alarm in the East Wing to clear out the security guards and civilians. Standing by the reception desk were three men in tailored suits, their jackets unbuttoned just enough to show the shoulder holsters underneath.