---- Chapter 16 Emily POV: The sound of my palm connecting with his cheek was a sharp, satisfying crack in the Parisian night. His head snapped to the side, a red handprint already blooming on his skin. "Partner?" | spat the word, my voice trembling with fury. "You have the audacity to call me your partner when our entire marriage was a lie? When the certificate you framed and hung on our wall was a worthless piece of paper?" His eyes widened, a flicker of pure panic in their depths. "How... how did you know?" "| found out when | tried to file for divorce," | said, my voice dripping with ice. "Imagine my surprise." He stumbled back, his face ashen. "Emily, | can explain. | did it to protect you! From my enemies, from... from the world. If we weren't legally tied, no one could ever use you against me." "Protect me?" | shrieked, a wild, hysterical laugh bubbling up from my chest. "You didn't do it to protect me, you narcissist! You did it to control me! To make sure | could never leave you, never have anything that wasn't yours to give!" His composure finally broke. The remorseful act vanished, ---- replaced by the cornered, dangerous animal | knew so well. A hard, ruthless glint entered his eye. "That's enough," he snarled. "You're coming with me. We're going home and we are going to fix this." He lunged for me, his hands reaching to grab me, to drag me back into his cage. He never made it. A solid fist connected with the side of his jaw. It was Josiah. He moved with a speed and force that was utterly startling. Killian, who had survived countless back-alley brawls in his youth, staggered backward, blood pouring from his nose. "Don't you touch her," Josiah said, his voice a low, threatening growl | had never heard before. He placed himself between me and Killian, a solid, immovable wall. "This isn't your playground, Emerson. You can't just take what you want here. Forcing her to go with you is kidnapping. You'll be in a French prison before the sun comes up." Killian wiped the blood from his lip with the back of his hand, a feral snarl twisting his features. "And who the hell are you? Her new pet? You think you can protect her from me?" With a guttural roar, he launched himself at Josiah. The two men crashed together in a flurry of motion. | watched, my heart in my throat, as they traded blows. | was stunned to see that Josiah, the calm, intellectual venture capitalist, was more than holding his own. In fact, he was winning. He fought ---- with a clean, brutal efficiency, his movements precise and powerful, while Killian was wild and sloppy, fueled by nothing but rage and desperation. Within a minute, it was over. Killian was on the ground, his face bruised and swollen, his designer t-shirt torn. He looked pathetic. Defeated. "Get up," Josiah ordered, his voice cold. "Get up and get the hell away from her. And don't ever come near her again." Killian struggled to his feet, his eyes burning with a humiliated fury. His gaze darted around wildly and landed on a heavy street sweeper's broom leaning against a nearby wall. With a desperate cry, he grabbed it and swung it like a baseball bat, aiming for Josiah's head. Josiah ducked, but not fast enough. The heavy wooden handle caught him on the shoulder, and he grunted in pain, stumbling back. "Josiah!" | cried, rushing to his side. "Are you okay?" He winced, rotating his shoulder. "I'm fine. It's just a bruise." | gently touched his arm, my heart aching with guilt and concern. "We need to get you to a doctor." From the ground, where he had fallen again after his clumsy attack, Killian looked up at me. His face was a mask of pathetic, childish anguish. ---- "You're worried about him?" he whimpered, his voice cracking. "What about me, Emily? Look at me. I'm the one who's hurt. Don't you care about me at all?" | didn't even grant him a glance. | kept my back to him, my focus entirely on Josiah. | didn't have to look to know what his expression would be. | had seen it a thousand times before. It was the face of a man who had just realized he had lost everything, and had no one to blame but himself.