Say Less I Love You Episode 24

Chapter 276

JACOB

I push the grilled asparagus around my plate, my mind drifting to Nyla's smile at the gala. The way her hand felt in mine during our dance, like it belonged there. Like we belonged together.

"Jacob!" Mother's sharp voice cuts through my reverie. "Are you even listening? The quarterly projections-"

"Can wait," I interrupt, taking a sip of water. The crystal glass is cool against my fingers, grounding me in the present.

"Really?" Mother's perfectly manicured nails tap against the mahogany table. "Because the way you were mooning over Nyla Thomas at the gala suggests you're more interested in rekindling that disaster than running our hospital."

"I wasn't mooning." The words come out sharper than intended. "We danced once. It was expected, given her role in securing the Neuromax contract."

"Expected?" Father's eyebrows rise as he cuts into his steak. "The way you held her suggested otherwise."

"The board needed to see unity after everything that's happened." I keep my voice level, professional. Inside, my heart races at the memory of Nyla in my arms.

"Unity?" Mother scoffs. "You looked like a lovesick puppy following her around all evening. People are talking."

"Let them talk." I force myself to take a bite of asparagus. "It makes the hospital look good to have the CEO supporting our newest board member."

"Supporting?" Mother's laugh is brittle. "Is that what we're calling it now?"

I set down my fork with careful precision. "What would you prefer to call it?"

"I'd prefer you focus on the hospital instead of chasing after that girl again." Mother's voice drips with disdain. "She's already caused enough damage to this family."

If she only knew I'm staying away to protect Nyla. That every moment of coldness is an act to keep her safe. But I can't tell them that. Can't risk anyone discovering the truth.

"The hospital is doing fine," I say instead.

A sharp knock at the door interrupts our fight. I rise from my chair, glad for the distraction from Mother's endless strategizing.

"I'll get it," I say, making my way through the grand foyer.

The heavy oak door swings open to reveal... nothing. Just empty air and a black wreath propped against the doorframe. The words "R.I.P." glare up at me in stark white letters.

"Who is it?" Mother's voice carries from the dining room.

"No one." I lift the wreath, examining the morbid craftsmanship. "Just a charming delivery. Someone's got a twisted sense of humor."

Mother and Father appear behind me, their reflections ghostly in the polished door glass. Mother's hand flies to her throat.

"Jacob, get away from there!" The fear in her voice surprises me. "This is a threat. We need to call security immediately."

Father's face hardens as he takes in the wreath. "Your mother's right. After everything that's happened..."

"Relax." I prop the wreath against the wall, keeping my voice light. "If someone wanted me dead, they wouldn't announce it with funeral decor."

"This isn't funny," Mother snaps. "You nearly died once already."

"And yet here I stand." I flash them my most reassuring smile. "Whatever this is, we'll handle it. We always do."

Their exchanged look of alarm doesn't escape me, but I maintain my casual demeanor. No need to fuel their fears when I already have my suspicions about who sent this message.

I watch my parents trade worried glances, their fear palpable in the tense air of our foyer. Mother's hands grab at the neck of her silk blouse.

"The poison has already been distributed, there's nothing more they can do to me now," I say, keeping my tone light despite the unease churning in my gut. The black wreath seems to mock me from its position against the wall.

"You can't know that for certain," Mother snaps, her voice sharp with concern. "These people are ruthless."

Father places a steadying hand on her shoulder. "We should increase security, just to be safe."

"What we should do is call the police," Mother insists.

"And tell them what?" I run a hand through my hair in frustration. "That someone left us a tasteless Halloween decoration?"

"This isn't a joke, Jacob!" Mother's voice rises. "After everything that's happened with Marcus and that crime family..."

My thoughts immediately turn to Nyla. She stood up to Marcus, defied his plans. Will his vindictive nature now target her as well? The idea sends a chill down my spine that has nothing to do with the wreath.

"Fine," I concede. "Boost security if it makes you feel better. But I need to make some calls."

I need to warn Alexander, have him keep an eye on Nyla. If Marcus decides to retaliate, she'll need protection too. The thought of her in danger because of me twists my stomach into knots.

I pull out my phone, fingers hovering over Alexander's number. The black wreath looms in my peripheral vision, its message clear despite its simplicity. A warning? A threat? Either way, I can't ignore it.

"I'm heading to the office," I announce, already striding toward the door.   I pause in the doorway. "And Mother? Try not to worry so much. It doesn't suit you." Mother's protests fade behind me as I slip into my waiting car.

Once inside, I dial Alexander. "We need to talk. Now."

"Bad timing," he answers in a clipped tone. "I'm with—"

"It's about Nyla." That gets his attention. The line goes silent for a moment.

"Give me twenty minutes. The usual place."

I end the call and direct my driver to the discrete coffee shop we use for sensitive conversations. My mind races with possibilities. The Sokolovs clearly aren’t finished with us, despite Nyla's clever maneuvering with the Neuromax situation.

The wreath was theatrical, almost comically so. But these people don't make idle threats. If they're targeting me again, Nyla could be next. The thought makes my jaw clench.

I've played the invalid long enough, pretending the poison left me emotionally damaged. It kept Nyla safe while she dealt with Marcus and the Neuromax crisis. But now? This game of shadows needs to end.

My phone buzzes - a text from Mother: "At least take security with you."

I ignore it. The less people involved, the better. I've learned that lesson the hard way.

The coffee shop comes into view. Time to start planning our counterattack. I won't let them hurt Nyla. Not again. Not ever.