His Private Hell - Chapter 9: Chapter 9

Paris shimmered beneath a silver rain.
Eella stood at the window of her suite in the Hôtel Costes, the kind of place where people paid for silence and secrets were traded over espresso and diamonds. She wasn’t hiding—she was preparing. Letting the dust settle before she struck again.
Her phone buzzed.
Unknown number. Again.
She answered without hesitation. “Where are you?”
“I told you,” Garrison’s voice rasped, rough with exhaustion and something else—regret, maybe, or lust buried beneath the ruins. “I had to disappear.”
“Are you safe?”
A pause. “I’m not sure that’s ever been the goal.”
She gripped the windowsill. “They think you’re dead. The FBI can’t find you. Ally’s Inc declared you a rogue asset.”
“I am a rogue asset.”
She laughed bitterly. “So what now?”
“Now, we finish it.”
He sent her a location. Zurich.
She closed the call and stared at the city lights bleeding through the fog. Her reflection shimmered—red lips, dark eyes, and steel beneath silk.
She packed the drives, slid on her coat, and left without looking back.
⸻
Zurich was snow and sharp edges. Clean. Controlled. Dangerous in the way only money-laundering cities could be.
Garrison waited at a safehouse nestled above the lake, the place so well-hidden it wasn’t even on a map. He opened the door the second she stepped out of the car.
He looked rough—stubble, blood at the corner of his mouth, hands bruised.
“You’re bleeding,” she said, brushing past him.
“I heal.”
“You always say that.”
Inside, the fireplace crackled. The tension between them did, too.
She tossed the drives on the table. “They’re encrypted.”
“Not anymore,” he said, handing her a laptop. “I cracked them last night.”
The screen lit up with names, transfers, offshore accounts.
“Walter,” she whispered. “Astrid. Ronnie. And…”
She stopped. “Darcie?”
“Your former best friend. Walter’s inside woman. She sold your research six months ago.”
Eella went cold. “I defended her. I bled for her.”
“She took your trust and gave it away.”
She stared at the names, hatred coiling hot in her throat.
“I want them all ruined,” she said. “No more running. No more escaping. I want to take everything they’ve built and set fire to it.”
Garrison moved behind her. “Good. Because I already started.”
His hands touched her hips—firm, possessive. She didn’t move away.
“I thought you’d be gone by now,” she said.
“I tried.”
She turned to him. “Try harder.”
He kissed her instead.
There was nothing gentle about it.
They collided like war—hands in hair, hips pressing close, breath stolen between teeth and lips. Her coat fell first. Then his shirt. Their skin was heat on ice. The storm outside howled, but inside they were louder.
He lifted her to the table, shoved the drives aside, and buried himself in her mouth, her neck, the ache between her thighs. She gasped, head falling back, legs locked around him.
He bit her shoulder.
She moaned. “You think this fixes it?”
“No,” he growled. “But I’m doing it anyway.”
Their bodies moved like revenge. Swift, punishing, raw. She dragged his belt off. He ripped her silk blouse. Her nails clawed down his back.
It wasn’t love. It wasn’t forgiveness.
It was need.
They shattered together, falling against the table, the laptop still blinking with names to be destroyed.
Afterward, she curled against him, breathing heavy.
“I’m not sorry,” he said, his voice raw.
“Neither am I.”
⸻
By morning, they were back to war.
Eella was already dressed, hair pulled tight, dark suit buttoned to her throat.
“Darcie’s in Madrid,” she said, sipping coffee. “Hosting a summit for biotech investors.”
“You want to go public?”
“No. I want to humiliate her first.”
Garrison grinned. “That’s my girl.”
She didn’t smile back.
“She used me. And when it got messy, she sent Ronnie to fix it. Except he failed. So now I’m going to destroy her, live, in front of the world.”
“You know what that means, right?”
“They’ll all come for me.”
“And?”
She stepped closer. “Let them.”
⸻
Madrid. Two days later.
Eella stood on the stage of the Biotech Future Summit in a velvet-black dress and heels like weapons. Her smile was ice.
Darcie sat at the panel table, smug, surrounded by men who’d funded her betrayal. The press hung on every word.
“And now,” the host said, “a surprise presentation from one of Ally’s Inc’s earliest pioneers… Eella Vance.”
The crowd applauded. Darcie’s smile froze.
Eella took the podium.
“Thank you,” she began. “Tonight, I won’t waste your time with false optimism or forecasts. I’ll show you what real betrayal looks like.”
Gasps.
She clicked the remote.
The screen behind her lit up with data—emails, transfers, stolen documents. Her voice stayed steady as she walked them through the scheme. The corruption. The lies.
Darcie stood, panic rising. “This is absurd. She’s lying.”
Eella clicked again.
A video played—Darcie, months ago, bragging at a private party about selling Eella’s tech to Walter Thorne.
The room erupted.
“You planned to ruin me,” Eella said softly, staring at Darcie. “But I survived.”
Darcie screamed, lunged forward—
Security stopped her.
Cameras flashed. The board disavowed her. Investors walked out. By nightfall, Darcie was escorted from the venue, screaming obscenities.
Eella didn’t watch her go.
She was already on a plane.
⸻
Back in Zurich, Garrison met her at the door with a whiskey and a slow, wicked grin.
“You were brilliant,” he said.
“She was sloppy.”
“You made her bleed in public. That’s power.”
Eella sank into the couch. “Walter’s next. Then Astrid. Then I erase everything they ever touched.”
“You’re not just cleaning house,” Garrison said, sitting beside her. “You’re building an empire.”
She didn’t deny it.
She was tired of being the pawn.
She wanted the throne.
Garrison leaned in. “And what about me?”
“What about you?”
“I helped you win.”
“You broke me first.”
His smile faltered.
She set her glass down. “Don’t confuse strategy with salvation. We might want each other, Garrison. But that doesn’t mean we’re safe.”
He stood, tension pulling at his jaw. “Then let’s make it dangerous.”
She raised her brows. “Oh?”
“I’ve already leaked the files. Walter’s world ends tomorrow.”
She stood slowly. Walked to him. “And when it does?”
“We disappear. Together.”
Her heart slammed hard against her ribs.
She hated him for the hope.
But she wanted it anyway.
Wanted him anyway.
“I’m not done yet,” she whispered.
“I’ll wait.”
She touched his cheek. “You’re a liar.”
“Only when I’m scared.”
“Are you scared now?”
He leaned in, kissed her again—slow, this time. Gentle.
“Yes.”