Chapter 236
[ 1,027 words ]
Julian’s POV
“Hey,” I said, my voice instantly shifting into something calm, steady, and entirely safe. “It’s okay. Some people from the city need to talk to Mummy about the court case yesterday. It’s just business p>
“Why are there lights?” Aiden asked, his eyes darting over my shoulder.
“They’re just standard security,” I lied, keeping my body positioned between him and the police. I looked over my shoulder and saw Gail standing at the end of the hallway, her face pale, already reading the situation. “Gail. Take Aiden to the guest cabin at the back of the property. Now. Get him some breakfast and keep him there p>
Gail nodded quickly. She ran forward, taking Aiden’s hand. Aiden looked at me, his eyes wide and trusting, before he let Gail lead him away toward the back stairs.
I watched them disappear until the door to the service stairs clicked shut. Only then did the composure slip back over my face, colder and harder than before.
I walked back down the stairs, each step heavy and calculated.
“She is coming down,” I told Reeves. “And you are going to treat her with the respect her position warrants. If a single hand is placed on her roughly, if you so much as raise your voice to her, I will personally ensure that your career ends in a desk job in upstate New York p>
I didn’t tell them she was my wife. If the press got wind of the Las Vegas marriage now, during a homicide investigation, it would turn into a media circus that would bury her. I had to keep my cards close to my chest. I had to play the role of the business partner, the Windsor, who was simply protecting his investment. But internally, every nerve in my body was screaming to rip the handcuffs out of Reeves’s hands and throw him through the glass doors.
A door opened at the top of the stairs.
Katia came out. She was wearing a simple silk robe, her hair loose, her face completely pale. She looked at the police, then at me. She didn’t panic. The CEO was back, her shoulders straight, her chin up, but I could see the slight tremor in her hands.
“Katia Kensington,” Reeves said, stepping forward. “You are under arrest for the murder of Victor Hale p>
Katia looked at the warrant he held out, then looked at me. I stood at the base of the stairs, my eyes locked on hers, sending her a silent, unyielding message: I have you. Do not speak.
“My legal team is already moving, Katia,” I said, my voice steady and cold. “Do not say a single word. Not to them, not in the car, not in the interview room. You do not exist until my attorneys arrive p>
She nodded once. A slow, composed nod.
The detective stepped forward, turning her around to place the handcuffs on her wrists. The sound of the metal clicking into place—the cold, sharp lock of the steel against her skin—made my vision go briefly red. I took a half-step forward, my muscles coiling, ready to strike, but I forced myself to stay still. I had to be the anchor. If I broke the law now, I couldn’t protect her.
They led her past me. As she passed, our shoulders brushed. I looked down into her eyes, and the sheer, raw terror she was hiding behind that corporate mask made my stomach turn.
“I’ll be there in twenty minutes,” I whispered.
She didn’t answer. They walked her out the front door, the cruisers’ doors slamming shut, the sirens remaining silent as they pulled away down the long, private driveway.
The moment the doors closed, the silence of the house came back, heavy and suffocating.
I pulled out my phone and dialed Sam.
She answered on the first ring, her voice frantic. “Julian! The news p>
“I know,” I interrupted. “They just arrested her. They have footage from the adjacent building showing her pushing him. It’s spliced, Sam. The frame rate skips at three seconds p>
“I knew it!” Sam choked out, her breathing ragged. “Julian, I just ran a check on the server log for the Brooklyn office. Someone bypassed the firewalls at four-thirty this morning. It wasn’t Victor; he was already dead. Someone else had the override codes. They looped the footage from the rooftop cameras and uploaded the spliced version directly to the NYPD’s secure tip portal. It’s a setup p>
“Who has the override codes, Sam?” I asked, my voice a low, terrifying growl that made my own throat ache.
“Just the executive board,” Sam said, her voice shaking. “And… and the Windsor security database. Julian, someone inside your circle had to give them the entry protocols p>
The realization hit me like a physical blow. The rot wasn’t just outside; it was in my own house. Victor Hale was dead, but the machine he had built was still running, and someone was feeding it from the inside.
“Identify the IP address of the override,” I ordered. “I want the metadata, the timestamps, and the forensic trail on my desk by the time I reach the precinct. I’m calling in the full WEG legal team. We are going to burn that department to the ground if they don’t release her p>
“I’m on it,” Sam said, hanging up.
I stood in the empty entrance hall, the flashing lights finally gone, the grey morning light filling the space. My hands were steady now. The anger had settled into a cold, lethal focus.
Victor Hale had wanted a war. He had wanted to take the anchor of my life down with him. He had failed on the roof, but his ghost was still trying to finish the job.
I walked to the closet, grabbed my coat, and headed for the garage.
They had Katia in a cell, but they didn’t know what they had actually done. They had just given a Windsor a reason to stop playing by the rules. And by the time the sun was fully up, New York was going to find out exactly what happens when you try to cage what belongs to me.
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