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

We didn't go back to the Hudson estate. Instead, Grant’s heavily armored SUV drove us deep into the heart of Manhattan, pulling into the underground garage of a glittering glass skyscraper.

"This is my private residence," Grant explained as the private elevator shot up to the 80th floor. "Only Marcus and I have the access codes. Renata doesn't even know it exists."

The penthouse was breathtaking—a sprawling expanse of modern art, floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the glowing city skyline, and immaculate white furniture. But I barely had time to process the luxury.

Within ten minutes of our arrival, a private concierge doctor arrived.

Dr. Aris, a kind-faced woman with a gentle touch, treated Lily's burn. Lily didn't flinch this time. She sat on the plush velvet sofa, her small hand firmly gripping two of my fingers, refusing to let go.

"It's a second-degree burn," Dr. Aris murmured to Grant, though I could hear her. "It will heal, but she'll need antibiotics to prevent infection. Whoever did this held the heat source against her skin deliberately."

Grant closed his eyes, a muscle feathering in his jaw. "Thank you, Doctor."

Once the doctor left and Lily had fallen asleep in the master suite—still holding a piece of my sweater—Grant walked into the kitchen and poured two glasses of scotch. He slid one across the marble island toward me.

"Drink," he commanded gently. "You look like you're going to pass out."

I took a sip. The liquid burned its way down, settling my frayed nerves.

"Emma," Grant began, leaning against the counter. "Marcus told me about your mother. About the dialysis. He said that's why you took this job."

My stomach tightened. "Mr. Callahan, I—"

"It's Grant," he interrupted. He pulled out his phone and tapped the screen a few times. "I just made a transfer. Your mother is being moved from that public clinic to the St. Jude VIP Medical Pavilion as we speak. She will have a private suite, around-the-clock specialists, and a spot at the top of the transplant list. It's fully funded. For life."

I stared at him, the glass slipping slightly in my hand. "What? Grant, no... I can't accept that. That's millions of dollars."

"You saved my daughter's life today," Grant said, his voice thick with emotion. "You protected her when her own father was too blind to see the monster living in his house. It’s not a gift, Emma. It's a debt I can never fully repay."

Tears spilled over my cheeks. For the first time in a year, the crushing weight of my mother's medical bills vanished.