Page 152 of When Hearts Surrender

Belle gasps. “The strange sounds in the mansion. The masked man on the premises—”

“Your fall at BSUA. Cole here,” he motions to the now unconscious man, “poured oil over the steps and gave you a small push. He thought you’d just tumble and hurt yourself a little. He convinced himself he wassaving you in the long run because you’d leave Maxwell or he’d leave you because of the curse. That fool.”

Morristsks, kicking Cole’s unmoving body with his foot. “He worked with me because, like me, his family was devastated when Sydney died. He was convinced Sydney was killed by dear Maxwell because she sent him a text message the night she died. She told him she cheated on Maxwell and she was going to confess.”

Belle whispers, “Everything was premeditated—you and Cole.Everything.” I can hear the shock and pain in her voice, the betrayal from two people she cared about.

“I approached him after I saw Maxwell and him arguing at the wedding reception. It was obvious there was something more to it than jealousy. Cole here, apparently, had revenge plans all along. He somehow found out you were on the shortlist as the candidate for the future Mrs. Anderson role and was hoping to use you to get close to Maxwell, but then the idiot fell in love with you instead.”

Morris shakes his head. “He wanted to save you from Maxwell. He convinced himself he was doing the right thing, the pathetic fool. All I had to do was convince him we had the same goals, and he happily followed my plans instead—after all, I knew the Andersons the best.”

He sighs and adds, “Sometimes, dear Belle, life is unfair. I would know that. You were in the wrong place, at the wrong time, loved by the wrong person.”

Keeping the barrel of his gun steady, he turns toward me, his eyes taking on a dangerous glint. “I’m an old man. I’m not long for this earth. But I can’t let the curse grow cold now, can I? You doomed Belle to death, son, by announcing your love to the world. You should’ve just left her alone…and maybe I would’ve spared her. After all, I’d grown rather fond of her myself.”

Morris sneaks a glance behind me, no doubt looking at Belle. He says, “I wanted to let you go, my dear…that’s why I never gave you a high dose of cyanide. I was hoping you’d feel sick enough to realize somethingwas wrong, to believe the curse was real. But you were foolish…drunk on love. Stubborn to a fault.”

The rope snaps in my hand, the broken shard finally slicing through the thick twine. Morris’s frame stiffens, a calm lethality in his gaze as he clearly makes a decision.

For a moment, the world freezes around me—my chest stilling mid-inhale, the pouring rain battering my skin.

In this split millisecond, I know what he’s going to do next, and I move automatically, acting only by impulse, by a surge of protectiveness toward the woman behind me.

The love of my life.

The world spins again, and Morris’s arm moves, his aim shifting from my chest to the person behind me.

A thundering boom rings in the air, and I throw myself over Belle, my pulse roaring in my ears.

I hear her scream and feel a sharp burning impact on my back.

My breath rips from my lungs, and my vision blackens.

I’ve been shot.

Chapter 56

“Belle,” Maxwell rasps ashe collapses on top of me.

Another boom rings out and I scream, twisting my body on the chair and pushing us to the wet ground, the impact disorienting. The chair cracks and snaps, my bindings loosening, and I look up, finding Morris freezing in shock, a dark red stain blooming on his chest before he keels over.

Elias steps into sight from the hedges and lowers his gun, a few men following him. His eyes are cold with fury. “Fuck, I couldn’t get a clear shot before.”

He steps over Morris and aims his gun at his forehead. I squeeze my eyes shut as another shot rings out, followed by the loud cries of the crows nearby.

I crawl on top of Maxwell, who’s lying so still on the ground, his chest is barely moving.

He took a bullet meant for me. Hesacrificedhis life for me.

“Please, Maxwell. Please don’t die on me.” Tears stream down my face as I lean over him, gasping when I see the blood pooling on the soil beneath him, crimson rivers of red.

“Here, press this on the wound. Keep the pressure firm. I’m going to get help.” Elias rips the hem of his shirt and shoves it to me before darting off into the night, his men following him.

Another burst of lightning splinters across the skies, bathing the darkness in a brief flash of light, illuminating the sea of blood on the ground. The cry of thunder follows, mournful and filled with wrath as I press harder on the wound on his back.

The cloth soaks in a matter of seconds.I can’t stop the bleeding.Tears stream down my face. I’m hit with the same dark dream I’ve had over the last few months—the bloody tendrils spreading on Silas’s chest, his mournful sobs echoing in the air.

Dreams or visions, past or present, they all cease to make sense or matter.

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