Heaven or Hell: Loving My Twisted Billionaire novel Chapter 72

Wandering Petals Beneath Cry

Chapter 72

Hannah’s POV

My hands were bound behind my back, the plastic zip ties cutting into my wrists as Martin drove us toward some unknown destination outside New York City. The car smelled of leather and fear–my fear. I tried to stay calm, analyzing my situation through the panic threatening to overwhelm me.

“Martin,” I said, keeping my voice steady despite my racing heart. “I’ve never done anything to offend you. Is this about ransom? How much money do you want?”

Martin’s eyes flicked to the rearview mirror, studying me coldly. He didn’t answer, his knuckles white against the steering wheel. The silence stretched between us, broken only by the hum of tires against asphalt.

I shifted in my seat, surreptitiously feeling for the seat belt buckle. “Martin, you know my situation. If something happens to me, the Lancaster family line ends forever.” I softened my voice, appealing to whatever humanity remained in him. “Please talk to me.”

His shoulders tensed. Finally, he spoke, his voice hollow. “Miss Lancaster, think of it as reuniting with your family. In heaven.” He swallowed hard. “Whatever sins I commit for this, I’ll bear them.”

Ice flooded my veins. This wasn’t a kidnapping–it was an execution.

“You’re going to kill me,” I whispered, the reality sinking in. Not a question, but a statement.

Martin said nothing, his silence confirmation enough. His eyes remained fixed on the road ahead, his expression resolute.

My mind raced through possibilities. Who would want me dead? Not the Grants or Olivia–they lacked the influence to command a Sterling employee. This had to be someone within the Sterling family, someone threatened by Victoria’s newfound warmth toward me.

“Was it Sophia or William?” I asked directly. “Who ordered you to do this?”

Martin’s hands tightened on the wheel. “I don’t know anything!” he burst out, emotion finally cracking his stoic facade. “Complete the task, and my family will be taken care of. That’s all I need to know.” He glanced at me again. “Please stop asking questions, Miss Lancaster.”

They’d been thorough–even the hitman didn’t know who had hired him. I continued working at the seat belt buckle behind me, feeling it finally release.

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Chapter 72

“I understand,” I said softly. “You’re protecting your family.”

Then I lunged for the door.

Martin swerved sharply, sending me tumbling across the seat before I could reach the handle. The central lock clicked ominously as he regained control of the vehicle.

“I’m carrying a Sterling heir,” I said desperately. “Victoria won’t let you live if I die with her great–grandchild.”

Martin’s laugh was empty. “I’m already a dead man walking, Miss Lancaster.”

We drove in tense silence for what felt like hours but was probably only thirty minutes. Eventually, the car slowed, turning onto a gravel path that ended at a steep embankment overlooking the Hudson River. My heart sank as I realized his plan.

Martin parked precariously close to the edge, the front wheels already tilting slightly downward toward the dark water below. He turned in his seat, pulling out his phone with trembling hands.

“Miss Lancaster, look,” he said, his voice cracking as he showed me the screen. “This is my granddaughter. She just turned one last month.” The photo showed a chubby–cheeked baby girl with bright eyes and a toothless smile. “Isn’t she beautiful?”

“She’s lovely,” I whispered, noticing a trickle of blood running down my neck from where I’d been scratched during my escape attempt. “Martin, if you’re in trouble, tell me. I can help you-”

“Different worlds, Miss Lancaster,” he said, his voice hollow. “People like us are just sacrifices when the powerful decide we’ve outlived our usefulness. You’re not a princess anymore. Accept your fate.”

“Martin, that’s not true. There’s always another way-”

He wasn’t listening. His gaze had drifted to a family photo on his phone’s screen, his expression resolute as he slowly turned the steering wheel. The summer heat pressed against us as the car’s nose tilted further downward, beginning its descent toward the river.

In that moment of certain death, time seemed to slow. I thought of Edward, of the children at Sunshine Center who would wonder where their teacher had gone, of Finn and all the words left unsaid between us.

Water was already seeping through the floorboards, the cold river claiming the car inch by inch. My bound hands ached against the plastic zip ties as I struggled against the inevitable. Through the windshield, I could see the murky surface of the Hudson River growing closer as Martin’s car continued its slow, terrifying descent down the

embankment.

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Chapter 72

成

Martin stared vacantly at his phone screen, his thumb swiping through photos with eerie calmness. Let me look at them a little longer,” he whispered, almost to himself. “Just a little longer at these pictures…”

His face was illuminated by the glow of family photos–his grandchild, his wife, moments that defined his life outside of being a Sterling employee. In those final moments, he wasn’t my kidnapper; he was just a man saying goodbye to everything he loved.

I threw my body against the door again and again, the pain in my shoulder secondary to my desperate need to escape. The car was tilted at nearly sixty degrees now, the front bumper already kissing the river’s surface. We were less than ten feet from being submerged.

“Please,” I begged, my voice cracking. “Martin, it doesn’t have to end like this!”

He didn’t respond. Perhaps he was already gone in his mind.

I stopped struggling then, slumping back against the seat. A strange calm washed over me as I accepted what was coming. I had tried so hard to live–for myself, for Finn, for the baby I might be carrying. And yet, here I was, about to die anyway. The unfairness of it crushed what little fight I had left.

That’s when I heard it–the roar of an engine, powerful and aggressive, coming from somewhere above us.

Through the rear window, I caught a glimpse of a black Range Rover flying off the top of the embankment, airborne for a heart–stopping moment before it slammed down onto the slope. It barreled toward us at a terrifying speed, its headlights cutting through the twilight like angry eyes.

I squinted at the driver’s silhouette, my breath catching in my throat as recognition dawned.

Finn.

Martin finally looked up from his phone, confusion replacing his resigned expression. Before he could react, the Range Rover crashed into our rear bumper with a deafening impact.

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