The use of his new surname—my name—sent a possessive thrill through me even as I worried. "That may not matter if your mother tells him."
"She won't," Connor said with a certainty I didn't share. "Whatever else she is, she's practical. If she knows I'm married to you now, she'll realize there's more money in keeping that connection than selling me to Harris."
His cynicism about his own mother should have been shocking, but after what we'd learned, it was merely pragmatic.
As Connor dressed, I moved to my wheelchair and reached for my phone. If I couldn't stop him, I could at least ensure he was protected.
I made rapid, precise calls—to Michael, arranging security; to my assistant, cancelling my morning appointments; to the head of my legal team, instructing them to prepare emergency measures if needed.
Connor watched me from across the room as he buttoned his shirt—one of the expensive new ones we'd purchased together, I noted with an irrational flicker of satisfaction.
"You're pulling out all the stops," he observed, no accusation in his voice, merely curiosity.
"Your mother sold you once," I replied, not bothering to soften the brutal truth. "I'm not taking chances on what else she might do."
By the time we reached the door, Michael was already waiting in the private elevator, his imposing presence a silent promise of protection. I pulled Connor close before he could step inside, my grip on his arm more possessive than I'd intended.
"Take Michael with you," I insisted, my tone making it clear this wasn't a suggestion.
Connor hesitated, then nodded, the concession revealing more about his own nervousness than he probably realized. "I'll be fine, Julian. She can't drug me in a public café with your security watching."
He sounded confident, but I caught the faint tremor in his voice as he asked, "What if they try to take me again?"
I pressed my forehead to his, my expression hardening into something dangerous even as my voice softened. "They won't succeed. You're a Montgomery now."
The declaration hung between us, weighted with meaning beyond the legal document that had bound our names. Connor's eyes widened slightly, something like wonder flickering across his features before he leaned down to press a quick, fierce kiss to my lips.
"I'll be back before you know it," he promised.
I watched as the elevator doors closed, taking Connor and Michael down to the secure garage where a driver would be waiting. Despite the multiple layers of protection I'd arranged, an uneasy feeling persisted, a prickling at the back of my neck that had saved me from more than one corporate ambush in the past.
I returned to my office, unable to focus on anything beyond the ticking minutes of Connor's absence. I'd just pulled up the security feed showing Michael and Connor entering the car when my phone rang.
Jake's name flashed on the screen, a welcome distraction from my mounting anxiety.
"Tell me you have good news," I said by way of greeting.
"I wish I did." Jake's voice was grim, lacking its usual easy confidence. "I found something about Harris you need to see. My team uncovered financial records, Julian. Shell companies, offshore accounts—all tied to previous 'acquisitions'."
My grip on the phone tightened. "How many?"
"Seven that we can confirm over the past five years. Young men, all roughly Connor's age and appearance." Jake paused, and I could hear him take a steadying breath. "Julian... those boys didn't survive."
The words hit me with physical force, my vision narrowing as cold fury rose inside me. "Explain."
"The pattern is always the same. Acquisition, disappearance for approximately three months, then a 'tragic accident'—drowning, car crash, overdose. Too clean, too consistent. He uses them and disposes of them when he's done."
My free hand clenched into a fist, knuckles turning white as I processed the implications. The danger to Connor wasn't just kidnapping or exploitation—it was death, methodically planned and executed once Harris had taken what he wanted.
"Send me everything," I ordered, my voice dropping to a dangerous register that made even Jake, my oldest friend, hesitate before responding.
"Already done. But Julian, there's more. The timing of these acquisitions correlates with pharmaceutical trials at Harris's research division. Trials with unusually high success rates for experimental drugs."
The pieces clicked together with sickening clarity. Human test subjects. Unwilling participants in drug trials that left no witnesses.
"Julian?" Jake's voice pulled me back from the dark calculations my mind was making. "What are you going to do?"
I looked out at the city spread below my penthouse, somewhere in that sprawl, Connor was meeting with the woman who had sold him to a monster.
