From His Ex-Wife to the World's Most Sought-After Restorer (Jade and Hudson) novel Chapter 273

"I understand," Katherine said.

However, the moment the exam was over, Katherine reported the findings directly to Bastian.

"Sir, Ms. Merchant has several severe bruises on her shoulder. They look like finger marks from a very forceful grip."

Bastian's lips thinned into a dangerous line. His voice was like ice.

"Find out who."

Katherine nodded respectfully. Before leaving, she risked one more question.

"Is she really... Mr. Joshua Boswell's daughter?"

"Yes."

Bastian's answer was absolute. He paused, his gaze darkening.

"I'll be staying here for a while. That includes all of you. But until I tell her the truth, no one says a word. Am I clear?"

Katherine responded instantly. "Perfectly clear, sir."

She sensed the gravity of the situation. This wasn't just business; it was personal for the boss. She'd make sure the entire team was briefed on their silence.

Just then, Bastian's phone rang.

"Report," he answered.

"Sir, the Walter Group reached out. They're looking for a partnership."

Bastian thought of Jade, then of Hudson, and a wave of cold fury hit him.

"Make them wait. Indefinitely."

"Yes, sir."

—

Hudson checked himself out of the hospital that afternoon. Before dealing with the ransom, he met with Silas.

The two men talked for hours in a private lounge. No one knew what was said.

When Hudson walked out, his face was as cold as mid-winter. He radiated a terrifying, predatory energy.

Kevin didn't dare ask questions as he drove them toward the harbor.

At the pier, Hudson stepped out of the car.

The wind was howling, whipping his hair and pulling at his coat. He looked haggard, a far cry from his usual composed self.

A small boat approached, the sound of rhythmic sobbing drifting across the water.

As the boat pulled alongside the dock, Hudson saw Lyndon holding a knife to Amara's throat. Cortney was wailing beside them.

But Hudson asked nothing. He was distant, his presence cold and mechanical.

"Hudson," Amara whispered, reaching for his arm while he watched Cortney play. "When Lyndon took us... I thought it was over..."

Her eyes were rimmed with red, her voice a fragile whimper.

"You're our anchor. I don't know what we'd do without you."

Hudson didn't react to her touch. He stared at the girl, his mind a million miles away. Eventually, Amara leaned her head against his shoulder, her body pressing into his.

"You're a good man, Hudson. The best."

The scent of her perfume—sweet and heavy—hit his nose. Hudson's body reacted with a visceral wave of revulsion. He pulled his arm back and stood up.

"Amara. This isn't appropriate."

"I know... I'm sorry," she stammered, fresh tears falling. "I'm just so shaken up. Please forgive me."

Hudson handed her a tissue. "Stay here. I'll have guards posted. You're safe."

He didn't wait for a response. He turned and walked out.

That night, Hudson sat in his own living room.

The lights were off. He sat in the hollow silence of the dark house.