Chapter 435

[ 971 words ]

Julian’s POV

“That is not new information, Julian. You married a woman who built her entire company out of underground racing winnings. This is not a departure from who she is. It is exactly who she has always been p>

I ran a hand down my face, exhaustion pulling at me in a way that had nothing to do with the hour.

“So what am I supposed to do?” I asked. “Simply stand there and watch p>

“You race,” Zane said.

I looked at him.

“You heard me,” Zane said. “You race alongside her. Not against her, not to protect her from herself, but because that is what she actually needs from you right now. Support, not restriction. And you make absolutely certain she wins p>

“Why does winning matter that much?” I asked.

“Because if she wins,” Zane said, “she gets to walk away from that track with her pride intact and no reason to prove anything else to Tessa Sterling for the rest of this pregnancy. She stops racing until the baby comes, satisfied, having answered the challenge on her own terms.” He paused, something almost teasing entering his voice now. “And if she loses, my friend, you might spend the next six months finding out exactly how thoroughly a woman can starve her own husband of certain marital privileges out of pure, wounded pride p>

Sam laughed despite herself, covering her mouth with one hand.

“He is not wrong,” she said.

I stared at both of them.

“That is your advice,” I said. “Make sure my pregnant wife wins a street race against a woman actively trying to unmask her secret identity, or risk losing certain privileges in my own marriage p>

“That is exactly my advice,” Zane said, entirely serious despite the humor still lingering around his mouth.

I sat with that for a long moment, the absurdity of the conversation somehow doing more to loosen the knot in my chest than any amount of arguing with Katia herself had managed that morning.

“She will win,” I said finally. “I have never once seen her lose a race she actually wanted p>

“Then there is your answer,” Zane said. “Stop trying to stop her. Start making sure the track is exactly where she needs it to be, and stand beside her while she reminds this entire city why Catwoman built the reputation she built in the first place p>

I thought about Katia standing in our kitchen that morning, calm and certain, refusing to let fear make a decision that belonged entirely to her.

“Alright,” I said. “I will race too p>

“Good man,” Zane said, raising his glass slightly. “Now finish your drink. You look like you need it p>

I did.

We spent the next hour going over logistics instead, Zane pulling up maps of the underground circuit’s usual routes on his phone, Sam cross-referencing them against whatever intel her network had already gathered about the terms Tessa’s team was proposing for the race.

“She wants it public,” Sam said, scrolling through a message thread. “Or as public as this world allows. A locationrevealed only hours before the start, but enough advance notice that word spreads through the right circles. She wants an audience for this p>

“Of course she does,” Zane said. “She thinks a public defeat of Catwoman would finally give her the story she has been chasing for months. Unmask the mystery, or at least prove the mystery was never as untouchable as everyone believed p>

“She will be disappointed either way,” I said. “Katia has no intention of losing, and even if she did, nothing about a race reveals an identity Tessa has never managed to confirm through months of investigation p>

“Unless she gets close enough to see something she should not,” Sam said quietly. “A tell. A habit. Something small enough that Katia has stopped thinking about it because it has simply become part of who she is behind that wheel p>

I felt something tighten in my chest at the thought.

“Then we make sure she does not get that chance,” I said. “I will be on the track too. Every camera pointed at that race will have two targets to track, not one. That divides Tessa’s attention, whatever she is looking for p>

Zane nodded slowly, approval crossing his face.

“Now you are thinking clearly,” he said. “That is a considerably better use of your energy than trying to talk Katia out of something she already decided this morning p>

“I still do not like it,” I said.

“You are not required to like it,” Sam said. “You are required to support it. There is a difference, and I think somewhere underneath all that worry, you already know which one actually helps her p>

I thought about that for a long moment, the frustration I had carried into Zane’s apartment slowly reshaping itself into something more useful, a plan rather than a protest.

“I will call Marcus in the morning,” I said. “Security details, discreet enough not to spook anyone, but present enough that nothing catches either of us unprepared p>

“Now that,” Zane said, “is the version of you I actually respect showing up to this conversation p>

Sam smiled, raising her own glass slightly in my direction.

“Welcome to actually being helpful,” she said. “It suits you p>

I allowed myself a small, tired laugh, the first real one since I had read the headline that morning, and finished the rest of my drink in the company of two people who understood, better than I had wanted to admit an hour earlier, exactly what Katia actually needed from all of us right now.

I gathered the family that evening, Grandma Celeste seated in her usual chair, Gail perched on the arm of the sofa, the weight of what I needed to ask them settling into the room before I had said a single word.

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