THE BILLIONAIRE'S REDEMPTION

Ethan's POV

Ethan paced the length of his penthouse, the city lights casting sharp reflections on the glass walls. The tension coiling in his chest had been building all day. Sophia Hart wasn't just a thorn in his side; she was a full-fledged threat. 

Her presence at the gala had unsettled him more than he wanted to admit. She wasn't like the others who sought to expose him—reckless reporters and opportunists he could easily discredit or crush. Sophia was methodical, driven, and far too clever for her own good. 

And now she was sniffing around Rachel Turner's disappearance. 

"Sir," Daniel said, breaking the silence. He stood near the door, his posture stiff. "We've intercepted some of her movements. She received a tip about Pier 47." 

Ethan froze. "Pier 47? Tonight?" 

Daniel nodded. "Midnight. She's going alone." 

A curse escaped Ethan's lips. Pier 47 wasn't just a warehouse; it was where his past lived in shadows and silence. The secrets buried there were dangerous—not just to him, but to anyone foolish enough to dig them up. 

"Who sent the tip?" Ethan demanded. 

Daniel hesitated. "We don't know yet. Could be someone on the inside, or someone trying to lure her into a trap." 

Ethan's jaw tightened. He didn't like variables, and this night was filled with too many. He should let Sophia walk into the fire. Let her burn and leave his life forever. 

But the thought of her in danger—real danger—made something twist in his chest. He couldn't let that happen. Not to her. 

"Have a car ready," Ethan ordered. "I'll handle this myself." 

The drive to Pier 47 was tense. Ethan stared out the tinted windows, his mind racing through possibilities. He hated being reactive, hated feeling out of control. And yet, Sophia had a way of throwing his carefully constructed world into chaos. 

When they arrived, the docks were deserted. Fog rolled in off the river, shrouding the area in an eerie stillness. The warehouse loomed ahead, its windows dark and uninviting. 

Ethan stepped out of the car, pulling his coat tighter against the chill. "Stay here," he told his driver, then disappeared into the fog. 

Sophia crept through the shadows of Pier 47, her recorder clutched in one hand and her flashlight in the other. The place was massive, with crates stacked high and the smell of salt and decay lingering in the air. 

Her heart thudded against her ribs, but she forced herself to stay calm. This was what she did—walk into the unknown, no matter the risk. 

The tip had been vague, but it had mentioned files—proof that Blackwood Industries wasn't as clean as it claimed to be. If she found them, it could blow the entire story wide open. 

Her flashlight beam flickered over a door marked 'Restricted Access'. She tried the handle—it was locked. 

Glancing around, she pulled a bobby pin from her pocket and crouched in front of the lock. Liza had always teased her about learning to pick locks, but now it felt like the smartest decision she'd ever made. 

The lock clicked, and the door creaked open. 

Inside, the air was colder, the silence oppressive. Rows of filing cabinets lined the walls, their labels faded and dusty. 

Sophia moved quickly, her fingers skimming over drawers until she found one marked 'Turner'. Her breath hitched. She yanked it open, rifling through folders until she found what she was looking for. 

Her flashlight illuminated the words 'Project Eclipse'. She flipped through the pages, her stomach sinking with every line she read. Illegal experiments, bribes, cover-ups. And Ethan Blackwood's name was all over it. 

"Gotcha," she whispered, snapping photos of the documents. 

The sound of footsteps made her freeze. 

Sophia spun around, her flashlight beam catching the figure of a man standing in the doorway. For a split second, she thought it was security—but then she saw the gun in his hand. 

"Who the hell are you?" she demanded, her voice steady despite the fear clawing at her throat. 

The man didn't answer. He raised the gun, and Sophia's instincts screamed at her to run. 

She bolted past him, her flashlight clattering to the ground as she ducked into the maze of crates. The man shouted, his footsteps pounding behind her. 

Sophia's mind raced. She needed to get out, but the warehouse was a labyrinth. Her breath came in short gasps as she turned corner after corner, her pulse deafening in her ears. 

Suddenly, a hand shot out of the shadows, grabbing her arm and pulling her into the darkness. 

She opened her mouth to scream, but a familiar voice hissed in her ear, "Quiet!" 

Ethan. 

Sophia's shock turned to anger. She yanked her arm free, glaring at him. "What the hell are you doing here?" 

"Saving your life," he snapped. "Do you even realize how stupid this was?" 

"I was doing my job!" she shot back. "Which, by the way, seems to involve uncovering your dirty laundry." 

Ethan's eyes darkened, but before he could respond, the sound of the gunman's voice echoed through the warehouse. 

"She's here somewhere. Find her!" 

Ethan grabbed her hand. "Come with me." 

Sophia hesitated, but the urgency in his voice left no room for argument. She followed him as he led her through a hidden passage behind the crates, his movements swift and sure. 

They emerged outside, the fog thicker now. Ethan's car waited nearby, its engine running. 

"Get in," he ordered. 

Sophia hesitated again, her instincts warring with her sense of self-preservation. She didn't trust him—not fully—but she didn't have a better option. 

She climbed into the car, and Ethan slid in beside her, slamming the door shut. 

"Drive," he barked at the driver. 

As the car sped away, Sophia turned to him, her eyes blazing. "You better start explaining, Blackwood. What the hell is going on?" 

Ethan didn't answer right away. His gaze was fixed out the window, his jaw tight. 

Finally, he looked at her, his expression unreadable. "You want the truth?" 

"Yes," she said, her voice unwav

ering. 

"Then you'd better hold on, Ms. Hart. Because once you know it, there's no going back."