I Told You To Run But You Didn't (Georgia) novel Chapter 27

Chapter 27

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Finished

Georgia’s POV

The car sped through the night, the city lights a meaningless blur. My mind was a storm of fire and ice. He knew. After all this time, he knew exactly who I was. He knew I was Zane Sinclair’s sister, the living relative of the man who had cost him billions.

And yet, he’d played his part to perfection, acting as if our meeting was a coincidence, a simple twist of fate. He had watched me, studied me, and waited.

My voice trembled with a sudden, hot fury. “So, this was all a calculated move, wasn’t it?” I demanded, turning to face his cold profile. “You waited for me to finalize my divorce, to be completely and utterly alone, just to drop this bomb in my lap?”

A cruel, satisfied smirk touched his lips, but he didn’t look away from the road. “Exactly.”

The single word was a confession and a victory lap all at once. I fell back against the seat, speechless. A few minutes later, the car turned off the main highway onto an unmarked, private road.

The forest closed in around us, a tunnel of impenetrable darkness. We finally broke through into a large, cleared plateau, and I gasped.

It wasn’t a house; it was a fortress. A modern mansion of black stone and vast walls of glass, nestled in the heart of the woods. And it was guarded.

Men in tactical gear with military-grade rifles patrolled the perimeter, their movements disciplined and silent. They weren’t guards; they were soldiers.

Estevan brought the car to a stop before the massive front doors. He got out and opened my door, not as a gentleman, but as a warden. I hesitated, biting my lower lip as I looked from the armed men back to him.

“Why did you bring me here?” I whispered.

“Now that you know the truth,” he said, “our arrangement has terms.” He started walking toward the entrance, expecting me to follow. “You will sign a lifetime non-disclosure agreement. The man you thought I was is a ghost. The man I truly am is now your reality.”

He paused at the door, turning back to me. “You are a retired military asset, Georgia. You understand the meaning of confidentiality. From now on, your skills belong to me.”

The doors swung open from the inside, revealing a vast silent foyer.

I looked at the armed men, at the inescapable mansion, and then at the man who had orchestrated it all.

I finally found my voice, a desperate, breaking cry. “Why? Why are you doing this to me?!”

He looked down at me in the vast, silent foyer, my desperate question hanging in the air between us. His expression was unreadable, cold as marble,

“You ask why I’m doing this,” he began, his voice dangerously calm. “It’s because I recently discovered a truth that binds your fate to mine. Your brother, Zane… he’s alive.”

The world tilted. The air left my lungs in a ragged gasp. Alive. The word was a miracle, a fantasy, a ghost of a hope I had buried seven years ago. A wild, impossible joy surged through me, so powerful it brought tears to my eyes. “He’s… he’s alive?”

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Chapter 27

84%

Finished

“He is a phantom,” Estevan continued, his next words systematically destroying my newfound hope. “A key operative in a private organization that has been trying o bring me down for years. For all I know, he was the second sniper at the restaurant today.”

The joy curdled into icy confusion, then into

pure agony. My knees buckled, and I sank to the cold stone floor, a raw sob tearing from my throat. It wasn’t just a cy; it was a storm of grief I had held back for seven years, erupting all at once.

Alive? He was alive this whole time?

The image of my mother’s face, hollowed out by grief, ashed in my mind. My father, spending every last cent of his savings, chasing ghosts and false leads. They had wasted away searching for their son, while he was out there, breathing, living, hiding.

He let them die. He let me mourn him alone. He erased himself from our lives. For what?

My tear-filled eyes focused on the man standing over me, the architect of this new, hellish reality. My voice was a broken, raw whisper. “Why? Why would he do tha… just to bring you down? What could you have possibly done to him to make him abandon his own fan ily?”

Estevan looked down at me, his expression devoid of pity. He was a predator observing his prey, now broken and trapped.

“That is the question you will never answer without me, he said, his voice absolute. “If I die, the trail to your brother goes cold forever. He doesn’t want to be found, Georgia. You cannot find a ghost who has spent his life learning how to hide.”

He extended a hand down to me, an offer that was not a choice.

“Only I can.”

He lowered his hand when I refused to take it, his expression unchanging. I pushed myself to my feet, my body aching, my mind reeling. As if summoned by an unspoken signal, an elderly man in an impeccable, dark-grey suit approached us, his steps silent on the stone floor. He had the calm, watchful eyes of a man who has witnessed a lifetime of secrets.

“Ms. Sinclair,” the man said, his voice a smooth, cultured baritone. “I am Antonio Davis, consigliere to the Salvatore family.” He opened a leather folio he was carrying and presented it to me, along with a heavy, gold-nibbed pen.

I took it, my eyes scanning the dense legal text of a non-disclosure and employment contract. But it was the final page that made my blood run cold. There, neatly typed above the signature line, was my name: Georgia Sinclair. This wasn’t a spontaneous offer. This was premeditated. He had been planning this all along, just waiting for the perfect moment of my desperation,

I looked up from the paper, my gaze locking with Estevin’s.

“What are you waiting for?” he asked, his voice soft, but aced with impatience,

My voice, when I found it, was shaking but firm. “This isn’t an employment contract. This is a partnership to find

my brother,” I stated, pushing the contract back toward Antonio, “And I have one non-negotiable term. You will not kill him. You must promise me you will not harm him if we find him.”

Estevan’s lips curved into a cold, humorless smile. “I ca promise not to be the aggressor,” he said, his voice a silky threat. “But I will not promise to stand still if he tries to put a bullet in my head.”

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