Her Ex Chased the Curvy Cashier Into a Billionaire's Black Sedan, But the Cold Tycoon Gasped When He Saw the Secret Locket Around Her Neck

The massive digital screens flanking the ballroom stage flickered to life.

Instead of the charity promotional video, the screens began playing high-definition surveillance footage: Carl, Julian’s chief fixer, being arrested at Pier 42 by federal agents twenty minutes earlier, caught red-handed with the marked cash and recorded audio detailing Julian’s hit on Molly Grant.

Beside that feed, document after document from the decrypted microchip began scrolling across the monitors—Julian’s secret bank accounts in the Cayman Islands, his forged signatures, and his orders to falsify Clara’s medical records.

The room exploded into chaos.

"Traitor!" one of the largest shareholders shouted at Julian.

"Security! Call the federal marshals!" another yelled.

Julian backed away, his chest heaving, his eyes wide with animal panic. He looked at Molly—the woman he had dismissed as an insignificant, disposable nobody from a dirty diner—and saw the instrument of his absolute destruction.

"You ruined me," Julian snarled, his voice breaking into a venomous hiss. "You filthy little waitress... you ruined everything!"

Julian suddenly reached inside his tuxedo jacket, pulling out a compact, snub-nosed revolver.

Screams tore through the ballroom as wealthy patrons dove beneath tables and scattered toward the exits.

Julian leveled the barrel directly at Molly’s chest.

"If I go down, you don't get to live in my family's luxury!" Julian shrieked.

Time seemed to slow to a crawl.

Molly saw the black hole of the barrel. She heard the click of the hammer.

Before Julian could pull the trigger, Jonathan moved with blinding, explosive speed.

He threw his entire body in front of Molly, wrapping his massive arms around her, shielding her completely with his broad back.

BANG.

The gunshot cracked through the ballroom like thunder.

Molly gasped as she felt the impact shudder through Jonathan’s frame. He grunted, a low, guttural sound of pain, but his grip on her never wavered. He held her tightly against his chest, refusing to let her fall.

"Jonathan!" Molly screamed in horror.

Before Julian could fire a second round, Marcus materialized behind the older man. With a single, bone-shattering sweep, Marcus disarmed Julian, slammed him face-first onto the marble floor, and drove his knee into Julian’s spine, pinning him like an insect.

Federal agents and hotel security swarmed the stage, securing Julian in heavy handcuffs as he screamed curses into the floor.

Molly pulled back from Jonathan’s embrace, her hands frantically searching his body. Her fingers came away wet with dark, crimson blood from his left shoulder.

"You’re shot! Oh God, Jonathan, you’re shot!" Molly cried, tears streaming down her face as she pressed her hands against the wound to stop the bleeding.

Jonathan looked down at her, his face pale from shock, but his gray eyes were filled with an intensity that took her breath away.

Even with blood soaking through his tuxedo, he smiled at her.

"Are you hurt, Molly?" he whispered.

"I’m fine! You idiot, why did you jump in front of me?!"

"Because," Jonathan murmured, his voice fading slightly as his strength wavered, "my sister told me... that the locket would protect what is precious. But she was wrong."

He reached up, touching Molly’s tear-stained cheek with his bloodstained fingers.