Chapter 238
[ 1,002 words ]
Katia’s POV
“Fuck you,” she snapped, her voice rising, echoing off the concrete walls.
I raised my brow further, my smirk widening as I saw how easily she could be undone by a few simple words. “Well, the thing is, Delia, I am not going to sleep behind this cell. Your husband will make sure of it. Julian and I have business to discuss tonight. I will be in your house discussing business with him. He can’t afford for me to be behind bars because it’s not good for both of our companies p>
“My husband can never help you,” Delia hissed, her knuckles turning white as she gripped the cold steel bars of the cell, her body trembling with a sudden, violent rage.
I smiled. I leaned in slightly, bringing my face so close to hers I could smell the expensive floral perfume she had sprayed on herself before coming here. My voice dropped to a quiet, dangerous murmur that was meant only for her ears.
“The thing is, little sis, you are too forward and don’t know when to stop. I am sleeping in your house tonight because yo
ur husband and I have business to discuss.” I paused, my eyes locking onto hers, watching her pupils dilate as I leaned in even closer to whisper the last part. “Oh, and I might actually do that one thing that you’ve been constantly accusing me of… fuck him p>
Delia’s breath hitched. For a fraction of a second, her eyes widened with pure, unfiltered rage, her chest heaving under her cream-colored coat. She looked like she wanted to reach through the bars and tear my face apart. But then, she forced a loud, harsh laugh, her fingers releasing the cold steel as she took a quick step back.
“It’s a good thing you are not coming out,” she said, her voice shaking slightly despite the tight, ugly smile she forced onto her face. “Good night, Katia p>
She turned on her heel and walked down the corridor, the sharp, rapid clicking of her designer heels fading into the distance until the heavy metal doors at the end of the hall slammed shut.
I stood at the bars, the smirk slowly slipping from my face, replaced by a cold, calculating focus. The silence of the precinct holding block returned, heavy and cold. I walked back to the metal bench and sat down, my body aching, but my mind completely clear.
Delia was wrong about one thing. I was going home tonight. And Julian was going to be the one to open the door.
Julian’s POV
The thought of my wife behind bars did not sit well with me.
In fact, it sat in my gut like a block of concrete. Katia was my wife, and whoever had tampered with that security footage clearly wanted her out of the way permanently. They wanted to bury her in the system. But they had underestimated one very important variable: me. I didn’t care if I had to buy the entire precinct and turn it into a private parking lot; Katia Kensington—no, Katia Windsor—was not spending a night in a cage.
Marcus walked into my office at exactly seven PM. He looked like a man who had spent the last three hours fighting a minor war with a federal judge, which, knowing Marcus, he probably had. His tie was slightly askew, a tragic occurrence that signaled extreme corporate stress.
“Tell me we’re leaving,” I said, not looking up from my desk.
“Bail is processed. She is ready to be released,” Marcus said, collapsing into the leather armchair across from me. He rubbed his temples. “But don’t start celebrating yet, sir. The accusations still stand. The DA is holding onto that goddamn tape like it’s the holy grail. They’ve already given us a date for the preliminary hearing p>
I stood up, grabbing my coat. “I’ll deal with the DA. I’ll buy his favorite golf course and turn it into a swamp. What about the footage p>
Marcus sat up, his expression instantly shifting into his sharp, analytical lawyer mode. “That’s the thing. Something is completely off with the other angles. I’ve been analyzing the backup servers from the adjacent building. The file they submitted to the secure tip portal has a compression rate that doesn’t match the building’s local security system. But more importantly He paused, looking at me directly. “The override code used to upload the splice was issued from a secure WEG node. Julian, whoever did this didn’t just hack IG Technologies. They used our own secure network to feed the police p>
A cold, hard focus settled over me. “We have a rat p>
“A very sophisticated one,” Marcus agreed, standing up. “I’m running the forensic trail on the router logs now. I’ll find out who did it. But right now, we have a jailbreak to execute p>
“Let’s go,” I said.
The drive to the precinct was ten minutes of silent, simmering rage. By the time we walked through the heavy glass doors of the New York precinct, the desk sergeant took one look at my face and immediately decided he was very busy looking at his keyboard.
When I walked into the holding block and saw my wife, my chest tightened.
She was sitting on a cold metal bench, wearing a scratchy, state-issued grey jumpsuit that looked like it had been designed to strip a human being of all dignity. It was three sizes too big, the sleeves rolled up to her wrists, and the pants bagged around her ankles. It did something to me—seeing the elegant, brilliant CEO of IG Technologies reduced to a state-issued potato sack.
But I knew Katia. I knew her very well. She wasn’t weeping. She wasn’t trembling. She was sitting with her back straight, her chin up, looking like she was currently drafting a hostile takeover of the entire precinct’s budget.
I didn’t pity her. Pity was for people who couldn’t fight back.
I stopped in front of the bars. “Sorry I’m late p>
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