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His grip tightened, like he already knew, like he already understood what she was saying.

Her voice cracked as she forced out the truth, the sight that changed everything. “Blake Ellison. He was there.”

Then—

A voice—low. Calculated. Cold. “You weren’t supposed to see me.”

Noah’s head snapped up as Blake stepped into the office doorway, his expression eerily calm. Ruth’s breath hitched.

Blake tilted his head. “You stopped. It was supposed to be quick and fast.”

Noah’s hand hovered over his gun. “You blew up her car.”

Blake sighed. “It wasn’t personal. Just business.”

Ruth’s vision flickered. At first, it was shadows. Then—colors. Noah’s outline. Blake’s smirk. Her vision was coming back.

Blake’s expression darkened. And then—he pulled a gun.

Noah moved fast, pushing Ruth behind him. “Drop the gun, Ellison.”

Blake’s finger hovered over the trigger.

But Ruth spoke, her voice calm, steady. “Blake…you don’t want to do this.”

He hesitated.

She kept going, “You were my dad’s friend. You knew me when I was little. You were there at my father’s funeral.”

Blake’s jaw tightened.

“You don’t want any more of my blood on your hands,” she murmured. “Because you already have enough.”

Silence.

Then, the gun clattered to the floor. Blake’s shoulders sagged, his expression haunted.

Noah pushed to his feet, drawing Ruth to her feet with him. As he shielded her, he kicked the gun away and handcuffed Ellison. “Why?”

Blake exhaled slowly, then cleared his throat like this was just another meeting, like he wasn’t explaining why he tried to kill her. "It was to protect the firm, Ruth. That’s all." His voice was steady, but she could hear it beneath—the exhaustion, the justification, the damn near certainty he had done what needed to be done.

"Matt Brandt—the night of the party. It was clear he crossed the line. And it was even clearer that, if we didn’t do something, you were going to push the issue."

She felt Noah tense beside her, but she didn’t look at him. She couldn’t.

"There were others before, you know," Blake continued, his tone almost… casual. "Women we paid off. Women who took the money and kept their mouths shut. But you—" He sighed, shaking his head. "You weren’t going to accept a payoff. And there was no way to discredit you."

His eyes met hers, cold and certain. "You are too good an attorney."

Ruth swallowed hard. “I always wanted to be seen as a threat. I never considered it would get me killed.”

Blake tilted his head, his expression darkening. "I knew Dylan was in deep trouble—gambling debts, unpaid markers, getting reckless. When we got back to the office that night, he cracked. Confessed that Fairchild held the mark. And the night Dylan was killed, that little shit Brandt confessed he and Dylan gave up Hilton’s location."

Noah stiffened, his fists clenched, but Blake wasn’t looking at him. His focus was on Ruth.

"If you started digging at Brandt, he'd try to save himself and take Dylan and the firm down with him. I couldn’t have that." Blake exhaled, like this was some burden he had carried for too long, like he was the one who had suffered in all of this.

"I was going to take you out over our holiday break, make it look like an accident. But then that idiot Brandt threatened you, and you ran."