Chapter 4 - THE MAN I ONCE LOVED WENT TO PRISON, BUT THE BILLIONAIRE WHO TOOK A BULLET FOR ME REFUSED TO ASK FOR MY HEART—SO I FINALLY HAD TO DECIDE WHAT I WANTED WITHOUT ANY MAN DECIDING FOR ME
Adrian survived.
The bullet passed through his shoulder.
No major artery.
No permanent damage.
I spent the night beside his hospital bed.
When he woke, I was asleep in the chair.
He watched me for several minutes.
Then said:
“Ava.”
I woke.
“What?”
“Your neck.”
“What about it?”
“You're going to regret sleeping like that.”
“You were shot.”
“I've heard.”
I stood.
“How do you feel?”
“Like I've been shot.”
“Idiot.”
He smiled.
Then remembered.
“I said something.”
My heart changed rhythm.
“Yes.”
“Before the police came.”
“Yes.”
“I wasn't trying to pressure you.”
I stared.
Only Adrian Blackwood could confess love while apologizing for the possibility it might inconvenience me.
“I know.”
“You don't need to answer.”
“I know.”
“I mean it.”
“I know.”
He frowned.
“You're enjoying this.”
“A little.”
I sat.
“Adrian.”
“Yes?”
“I love you too.”
He went completely still.
“Say it again.”
“No.”
“Ava.”
“You heard.”
“I was recently shot.”
“In the shoulder.”
“Trauma affects hearing.”
I kissed him.
He smiled against my mouth.
When I pulled away:
“That was better.”
“Greedy.”
“Frequently.”
Damian pleaded guilty eleven months later.
Fraud.
Identity theft.
Financial conspiracy.
Illegal access to accounts.
Weapons possession.
His sentence was substantial.
Victoria cooperated with prosecutors and received less.
Her father lost control of Langford Development.
The company survived under new leadership.
Hundreds of employees kept their jobs.
That mattered more to me than revenge.
The Blackwood deal eventually happened too.
But under different terms.
No mass layoffs.
Employee protections.
Pension guarantees.
Executive compensation tied partly to retention and service metrics.
My vote was yes.
Not because Adrian wanted it.
Because the deal became good.
Two years passed.
I became vice president of guest strategy.
I sold part of Ellie's shares but kept the voting trust.
The money changed my life.
But not in the way Damian had imagined money should.
I bought my mother a house.
She argued.
I won.
I repurchased my grandmother's bracelet from evidence after Damian's case concluded.
The clasp was scratched.
I wore it anyway.
I also created a scholarship for service workers studying business, hospitality, nursing, or finance.
The first recipient was a dishwasher from Queens studying accounting at night.
When I told Adrian, he smiled.
“Eleanor would approve.”
“I know.”
Our relationship grew quietly.
No dramatic engagement.
No tabloid announcement.
We traveled.
Argued.
Learned each other's bad habits.
Adrian left coffee cups everywhere.
I overcommitted.
He became silent when stressed.
I became sarcastic.
We went to therapy before anything was seriously wrong because both of us had learned that waiting for disaster was an expensive strategy.
Three years after the champagne incident, Adrian took me to Café Morrow.
The café where Ellie and I met.
The owner had kept her favorite table.
Adrian ordered Earl Grey.
One sugar.
Toast almost burned.
I laughed.
“You hate tea.”
“Yes.”
“And burned toast.”
“Deeply.”
“Then why?”
“For courage.”
My heart jumped.
“Oh no.”
He reached into his coat.
“Adrian.”
“I know.”
“No public spectacle.”
“There are six people here.”
“Still public.”
He did not kneel.
He placed a small box on the table.
“Better?”
“Yes.”
I opened it.
Inside was a ring.
Elegant.
Not enormous.
Adrian looked nervous.
I had never seen him nervous in a boardroom.
Never during negotiations.
Never even while bleeding on our old apartment floor.
Now his hand shook.
“Ava Bennett.”
“Yes?”
“The first time I called you my fiancée, I didn't ask.”
I smiled.
“I remember.”
“That was arrogant.”
“Very.”
“Effective.”
“Unfortunately.”
He smiled.
“So this time I'm asking.”
He took my hand.
Not the ring.
My hand.
“I don't want you because you inherited shares.”
“I don't want you because you embarrassed Damian.”
“I don't want you because my grandmother loved you.”
His voice softened.
“I want the woman who gave an old stranger her umbrella.”
“The woman who worked two jobs and still thought she hadn't done enough.”
“The woman who walked into her first board meeting terrified and asked better questions than half the people who'd been there twenty years.”
“The woman who learned she could have money without becoming cruel.”
My eyes filled.
“And I want the woman who taught me that helping someone isn't the same as deciding for them.”
I cried.
Adrian smiled.
“I would like to spend the rest of my life being occasionally corrected by you.”
“Occasionally?”
“Frequently.”
I laughed through tears.
“Will you marry me?”
“Yes.”
His face changed completely.
“Really?”
“Yes.”
“You should probably think—”
“Do not ruin this.”
He laughed.
Then kissed me.
The café owner applauded.
So did four strangers.
I didn't mind.
May you like
Because this time, when someone called me his fiancée—
I had chosen the word too.
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