The CEO and the Country Wildflower chapter 47

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The CEO and the Country Wildflower
Chapter 47: The King’s Gambit


The warehouse door slammed shut behind Lucas and Emelly, sealing them in darkness. The air smelled of damp concrete and rusted metal, the only light filtering through a cracked skylight overhead. Emelly’s fingers tightened around Lucas’s wrist, her pulse racing under his fingertips. “This wasn’t part of the plan,” she muttered, scanning the shadows for movement. Lucas’s jaw clenched. “Because there was no plan. Just a trap.” A low chuckle echoed through the space, followed by the click of boots against concrete. A figure stepped into the dim light—tall, masked, his voice distorted. “Welcome, Mr. York. Miss Clus.


The king sends his regards.” Emelly’s grip on Lucas didn’t waver. “If you’re going to monologue, at least turn on the lights.


This is so cliché.” The masked man paused, then flicked a switch. Fluorescent bulbs buzzed to life, revealing a dozen armed men surrounding them. Lucas’s migraine pulsed, but the moment Emelly’s thumb brushed his palm, the pain dulled to a whisper. “You’re outnumbered,” the man said. Lucas smirked. “And you’re underestimating us.” Before the guards could react, Emelly yanked Lucas sideways, ducking behind a stack of crates. A gunshot ricocheted off metal as she pulled a pen from her pocket—her pen, the one Lucas had once mockingly called a “useless trinket.” She twisted the cap, and a high-pitched alarm blared, deafening in the enclosed space. The guards staggered, disoriented. Lucas didn’t waste time. He lunged, disarming the nearest man with a sharp twist of his wrist. Emelly darted forward, snatching a fallen radio and smashing it against another’s temple. “Since when do you carry a sonic pen?” Lucas grunted, dodging a punch. “Since someone kept sending me to sketchy warehouses!” she shot back, kicking a guard’s knee with surprising precision.


They fought back-to-back, a seamless dance of instinct and adrenaline. But just as the last guard crumpled, the masked man’s voice crackled over a hidden speaker. “A valiant effort. But the game isn’t over yet.” The floor beneath them shuddered. A trapdoor swung open, and Emelly barely caught the edge, her legs dangling over darkness. Lucas grabbed her wrist, his muscles straining as the metal groaned under their combined weight. “Let go,” she gasped. “You’ll fall too!” “Not happening.”


His grip tightened. Above them, the masked man’s laughter faded as the warehouse doors creaked open—police sirens. --- Meanwhile, at the Halthorn Estate… Serritary paced the gilded study, her silk robe flaring with every turn. Bruno watched from his armchair, his expression unreadable. “One year,” she repeated, as if testing the words. “And if we can’t stand each other by then?” Bruno swirled his whiskey. “Then we part ways. No debts, no grudges.”


She stopped, her eyes narrowing. “You’re too calm about this.” He set the glass down. “And you’re too reckless. Your father’s creditors don’t care about your pride, Serritary.” A knock interrupted them. A maid entered, trembling. “Mr. Halthorn, there’s a call for you. From York Group.” Bruno’s phone buzzed—a message from David: Linda’s files lead to Crown Holdings. The king’s moving tonight. Serritary caught his tension. “Trouble?” He stood, pocketing the phone. “The kind that doesn’t wait.” She grabbed his arm. “Take me with you.” “No.” “I owe you,” she insisted, her voice uncharacteristically earnest.


Bruno hesitated, then sighed. “Fine. But if you slow me down, I’m leaving you behind.” Her grin was all mischief. “Wouldn’t dream of it.” --- Back at York Group… Tony stared at the encrypted file on his screen, his stomach churning. The evidence was undeniable—someone inside York had been leaking data to Brown Group for months. And the access logs pointed to his terminal. Linda’s heels clicked behind him. “Find anything interesting, Tony?” He minimized the screen too late. Her smile was venomous. “You always were too curious for your own good.” ---