Divorced CEO's Forgotten Wife Strikes Back (Riley and Bryce) novel Chapter 157

**TITLE: Dreams Refuse Gravity by Leo Arden Knox**
**Chapter 157: Cleansing the Traitors**

“Mr. Torres, I regret to inform you that there was a mole within our ranks. That’s why we were unable to intercept your vehicle,” the head bodyguard reported, his tone grave. “Additionally, Mr. Wayne was merely rendered unconscious. He suffered two broken ribs, but thankfully, his life is not in jeopardy. As for the assassin, should we hand her over to the authorities?”

“Turn her in,” Sebastian commanded, his voice chillingly devoid of warmth. “But before you do, ensure you break her right hand.”

“Understood, sir.”

“And prepare yourselves,” he continued, his tone dropping to a low, menacing growl. “It’s time to tidy up this mess.”

—

Riley winced as the doctor carefully stitched her arm, feeling the tug of the needle. She needed five stitches, but to her, it was merely a minor inconvenience.

In her days with the special forces, injuries like this had been a regular part of the job—a badge of honor, even.

Once the doctor finished, she slipped into a fresh set of clothes, feeling the soft fabric against her skin.

“11:10,” she noted, glancing at the clock.

“We’ll keep you here overnight for observation. If everything looks stable by tomorrow, you’ll be free to go home,” the doctor explained, handing her a prescription with a reassuring smile.

Given the Torres family’s influence, Riley found herself in a VIP room, a luxury that felt unnecessary. The bullet had only grazed her skin, after all.

Yet Sebastian hovered over her like a protective hawk, treating her as though she were a rare and fragile specimen, ready to be encased in glass.

Riley surveyed the cluster of nurses bustling around her and sighed, “You can send them away. It’s too crowded in here.”

“But your arm—” one of the nurses began, concern etched on her face.

“If I need anything, I’ll call for assistance. Besides, you’re here with me, aren’t you?” Riley countered, her tone firm.

That seemed to soften Sebastian’s expression slightly. “Yeah. I’m here,” he replied, almost as if reassuring himself.

Once the room cleared, Sebastian leaned in closer, his voice low. “Would you like something to eat?”

“Maybe just an apple,” Riley suggested, glancing at the fruit basket that the hospital had thoughtfully provided.

“Alright,” he replied, moving to the basket. He picked out a shiny apple, washed it under the tap, and retrieved a paring knife. Sitting beside her bed, he began to peel the apple with surprising finesse.

Riley raised an eyebrow, intrigued. It was the first time she had witnessed Sebastian engaging in such a simple, domestic task.

The knife glided smoothly through the skin, the peel curling away in a long, delicate ribbon. His hands were strikingly beautiful, almost artistic in their movements.

His hands really are something, she thought, momentarily lost in admiration.

“Are you really that fascinated by my hands?” Sebastian’s voice broke through her reverie.

Startled, Riley looked up, meeting his gaze.

“If you find my hands appealing, that’s wonderful,” he murmured, a hint of mischief in his tone, “but I hope you’ll appreciate the rest of me just as much.”

Riley nearly choked on her breath, her cheeks flushing a deep crimson. Seriously? Did he realize how suggestive that sounded?

He finished peeling the apple and handed it to her.

Riley accepted it with her uninjured hand, trying to regain her composure. “By the way, how’s Felix doing?”

“He’ll be fine. Just needs a bit of time to heal,” he assured her.

That very night, every member of the Torres family who had ever aspired to the head seat found themselves in dire straits.

Some lost everything in a matter of hours; others vanished without a trace, and a few fled into the night, desperate to escape the impending storm.

At the Torres Manor in Washington, several dissenters knelt before Sebastian, their voices trembling with fear as they pleaded for mercy.

“This has nothing to do with us! We were completely unaware, I swear!”

“You were unaware?” Sebastian echoed coldly, his gaze piercing. “You didn’t know someone attempted to take my life?”

He brandished documents in his hand—phone records, bank transfers, detailed logs of conversations with the hired assassin.

“I handled the rest of the assassins before I arrived here,” he stated flatly.

He had never bothered before—not because he lacked the ability, but because he simply didn’t care. Live or die, what difference did it make? If someone succeeded in taking him out, so be it. Perhaps it would have been easier that way.

But that was before Riley came into his life.

Now? Now he had a reason to fight for survival. He wanted to live, to grow old alongside her, to cherish every moment together.

The men before him turned pale, their eyes wide with fear as they stared at the evidence in his hand. Game over.

He shifted his gaze toward the dim corner of the room. “Are you going to keep hiding back there?”

Sebastian was acutely aware that these men were not the true masterminds behind the plot.

From the shadows, a voice emerged—lazily amused, dripping with sarcasm.

“Didn’t think you’d end the party so soon.”