💋 She Kissed the Most Dangerous Man in Manhattan for $10,000 — and Became the Secret He Couldn’t Let Go

Chapter 17 - Catherine Chooses a Side

Ravi moved toward Edward.

Diane moved toward Catherine.

Those two choices saved them.

Edward pulled a pistol from inside his coat, but Ravi struck his wrist before the weapon cleared. The shot went wild, cracking into the mirrored wall. Glass burst outward in glittering sheets. Catherine dragged Diane down behind the piano as shards rained across the polished floor.

For one stunned second, Diane found herself pressed shoulder to shoulder with the woman who had ruined her life the night before.

Catherine’s breathing was fast.

“You planned this?” Diane hissed.

“I planned a confession,” Catherine said. “Not Edward being Edward.”

Another crash. Ravi and Edward slammed against a table. The old man was not as strong as Ravi, but he fought with the vicious economy of someone who had survived because morality slowed other people down.

Diane saw the gun skid under a chair.

So did Catherine.

They both reached for it.

Diane got there first.

Her hand closed around the grip, and terror shot through her so sharp she almost dropped it. She had never held a gun. It felt heavier than movies had promised, cold and stupid and final.

Catherine grabbed Diane’s wrist. “Give it to me.”

“No.”

“You don’t know how to use it.”

“That makes two of us.”

“I do know.”

Diane stared at her.

Catherine’s face twisted. “Alistair made sure I knew many things little girls should not know.”

Across the room, Edward drove his elbow into Ravi’s ribs. Ravi staggered but did not fall. Sirens grew louder outside, but old townhouses had thick walls and thicker secrets.

Diane rose with the gun in both hands.

“Stop!” she shouted.

Edward looked at her and laughed.

That laugh made the decision for Catherine.

She stood too, stepping in front of Diane, not behind her.

“You always laughed,” Catherine said to Edward.

He turned, annoyed. “Sit down, Catherine.”

“No.”

The word was quiet.

He blinked, as if hearing a dog recite scripture.

Catherine’s hands trembled, but she did not sit.

“You laughed when my mother cried,” she said. “You laughed when my father drank himself cruel trying to be as monstrous as you. You laughed when I told you I remembered the basement.”

Edward’s eyes sharpened. “Careful.”

“I was seven.” Her voice shook now, but it grew stronger as it shook. “Seven. And every adult in this house decided I would carry your crime like a family jewel.”

Ravi stood behind Edward, blood at his temple, watching Catherine with something like surprise.

Diane kept the gun pointed at the floor between them. She did not trust her hands. She trusted her voice more.

“Edward,” she said, “the police are outside. Catherine recorded you.”

Edward smiled again, but this one had strain in it. “Recordings vanish.”

“Not this time,” Catherine said.

The ballroom doors opened.

Elena Morales entered with Detective Rourke and six officers.

Edward looked from them to Catherine.

“You ungrateful little fool.”

Catherine flinched, but did not step back.

“You made me,” she said. “All of you made me. But I am finished being useful.”

Edward lunged.

Not at Catherine.

At Diane.

Maybe because she still held the gun. Maybe because she was Margaret Harper’s daughter. Maybe because men like Edward always reached for the woman they believed mattered least.

Ravi intercepted him.

They hit the floor together. Officers surged forward. Edward fought like a cornered animal, cursing Ravi, Joseph, Catherine, Margaret, everyone who had refused to stay buried. Then Rourke got a knee into his back and snapped cuffs around his wrists.

The sound was small.

After twenty-two years, justice sounded like metal clicking.

Diane lowered the gun. Her arms shook violently now.

Catherine took it gently from her and placed it on the piano.

For a moment, neither woman spoke.

Then Catherine said, “I am sorry about your sister.”

Diane looked at her. “Are you sorry you hurt us, or sorry your plan needed us hurt?”

Catherine’s eyes filled.

The old Catherine would have known what expression to use. This one seemed empty-handed.

“Both,” she said.

Diane nodded once. It was not forgiveness. But it was a door left unlocked for some later, better person to walk through.

Ravi approached slowly. “Are you hurt?”