Chapter 452

[ 1,148 words ]

Julian’s POV

The doctor came back faster than I expected.

I was still standing in the same spot in the waiting room when the door opened again. His expression had settled into something more controlled, but there was a tightness around his eyes that hadn’t been there before.

“I checked,” he said without preamble. “The baby’s heart rate is strong. No signs of distress. From what we can see right now, the pregnancy is intact, and the baby appears safe and healthy. We’ll keep monitoring, of course, but the initial concern has passed p>

The second wave of relief hit differently than the first. It went deeper. I nodded once because I didn’t trust my voice. Grandma Celeste’s hand settled briefly on my arm. I barely felt it.

“When can I see her?” I asked.

“Soon. We’re finishing a few assessments. Someone will come get you p>

He left again. The room felt too quiet in his absence. I sat down heavily and dragged both hands over my face. Katia was alive. The baby was alive. Those two facts had to be enough for the next few minutes.

They almost were.

Marcus arrived twenty minutes later.

He came through the door still in a rain-damp coat, expression set in the particular way that meant he was carrying information he would rather not deliver. He looked at Grandma Celeste first, then at me, and closed the door behind him.

“How is she?” he asked.

“Stable. The baby’s fine.” The words still felt unreal in my mouth. “What is it p>

Marcus didn’t sit. He stood near the small table and kept his voice low.

“The car was tampered with p>

Everything in me went still.

“Say that again p>

“The car Katia was driving this morning was tampered with,” Marcus repeated. “It wasn’t the weather. It wasn’t a driver error. Someone worked on it p>

I stood up so fast the chair scraped hard against the floor.

“How p>

Marcus glanced at Grandma Celeste, then back at me. He spoke carefully, the way he did when every detail mattered.

“Brake lines weren’t fully cut. That would have been too obvious. Instead, they were weakened at a stress point, and a slow leak was introduced so fluid would drop under repeated pressure. In heavy rain, with sudden braking, the system would fade just enough to make the car feel like it was hydroplaning or losing traction. Steering had minor interference as well—nothing that would show on a basic inspection, but enough to delay response by a fraction of a second when corrections were needed. The work was precise. Clean. Whoever did it wanted this to read as an accident. Bad weather. Poor visibility. A tragic loss of control. No clear evidence of intent unless someone knew exactly where to look p>

I stared at him.

“You’re telling me someone tried to kill my wife and make it look like the rain did it p>

“Yes p>

The word landed like a second impact. I turned away from both of them and walked to the window. Rain still streaked the glass. Somewhere beyond it, the city continued as if nothing had shifted. My hands had started shaking again. I closed them into fists until the tremor dulled.

“Who had access?” I asked without turning around.

“We’re already pulling every camera and log from the garage and the surrounding streets,” Marcus said. “It wasn’t amateur work. This was planned p>

I faced them again. Grandma Celeste had gone very still. The kind of stillness she only used when something old and ugly had resurfaced.

“How was my parents’ car tampered with?” I asked her.

She looked at me for a long moment. For once she didn’t try to soften the answer.

“The same way,” she said quietly. “Weakened brake integrity. Delayed steering response. Designed to fail under specific conditions so the investigation would settle on weather and speed. Your father was an excellent driver. So was your mother. The official report still called it an accident. We never had enough to force a different conclusion at the time p>

The room seemed to shrink.

Same method.

Someone had used the exact approach that had taken my parents and aimed it at my household. Aimed it at—

A new thought cut through the rest with brutal clarity.

“The car,” I said. My voice sounded strange. “Katia wasn’t driving her car this morning p>

Marcus frowned. “What do you mean p>

“She took mine.” The realization settled like ice. “Her usual car was low on charge. She mentioned it in passing yesterday. This morning she took the black one—the one I normally drive. The one that sits in the primary bay p>

Silence filled the space between the three of us.

Marcus was the first to speak.

“Then the target wasn’t her p>

“No,” I said. The word came out flat and cold. “The target was me. Whoever did this expected me to leave in that car. Katia paid the price for a seat she wasn’t supposed to be in p>

Grandma Celeste closed her eyes briefly. When she opened them again, there was iron there.

“Then this is not only an attack on your wife,” she said. “It is a continuation of an old pattern. And it means the person behind it believes they can still finish what they started years ago p>

I walked back to the chair but didn’t sit. Energy had nowhere to go. Rage and fear and a sick, protective fury tangled so tightly I could barely separate them.

“I want every resource we have on this,” I told Marcus. “No quiet inquiries. No waiting for formal channels to catch up. Whoever touched that car, I want a name. And I want it before they decide the first attempt was incomplete p>

“Already in motion,” Marcus said. “I’ll have a fuller picture within hours p>

He left to make the calls. The door clicked shut behind him.

I turned to Grandma Celeste.

“You knew the method,” I said. Not an accusation. A fact. “All these years p>

“I knew what I suspected,” she answered. “Suspicion without proof is a dangerous thing to weaponize, Julian. We looked. We pushed. The trail went cold, and the official story hardened. I have lived with that failure every day since. I will not live with a second one p>

I nodded once. There was nothing else to say about the past that would change the present.

A nurse appeared at the door a short while later and told me I could see Katia. Grandma Celeste stayed behind to make additional calls. I followed the nurse down the corridor, heart still slamming against my ribs, the new knowledge sitting like a blade under my sternum.

Someone had tried to kill me and had nearly taken both of them instead. I stepped into the room with one clear thought cutting through everything else: Whoever had done this had just made the last mistake they would ever make.

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