Chapter 158 Fire and Glass
Chapter 158 Fire and Glass
Dual POV: Alexander & Isabella
Alexander’s POV
The night after we left the Leclair estate felt longer than any I’d lived. The city lights outside the penthouse windows blurred into streaks of gold and red. Isabella sat across the room, silent, knees drawn up on the couch, staring into nothing.
Every time she blinked, I could tell she saw him—Vincent.
And every time I looked at her, I saw what that bastard had done.
I wanted to destroy him. Not just ruin his business or name. I wanted him to feel what it was like to lose control—piece by piece, until he had nothing left to cling to.
But right now, Isabella mattered more.
“You haven’t said a word since we got back,” I said, keeping my voice low.
She didn’t move. “If I talk, I’ll scream.”
“Then scream,” I said. “Don’t hold it in.”
Her eyes flicked to me, glistening with something sharp. “You think that’s going to help? You think I haven’t been screaming in my head since I was sixteen?”
Her voice cracked at the end, and that sound shattered something in me.
I moved closer, sitting beside her. The air between us was tight, like glass about to splinter.
“He’s lying,” I said finally. “He’s twisting whatever truth there is to make you doubt everything.”
“Then find out the truth,” she whispered. “Because I can’t live with another lie.”
Her words hit harder than any bullet could.
I nodded once. “Then that’s what we’ll do.”
She turned toward me fully, eyes searching mine. “Together?”
“Always.”
That broke the silence between us. Slowly, she leaned into me, resting her head on my shoulder. I wrapped an arm around her, grounding her against the chaos outside.
For a moment, it was quiet. Peaceful, even. The kind of stillness that only comes before a storm.
\---
Isabella’s POV
The next morning, I woke up before dawn. Alexander was still asleep on the couch—he’d stayed there all night, refusing to leave me alone even when I told him to rest.
The city was still gray and half-dreaming as I brewed coffee. The bitter smell filled the air, mixing with that cold sense of resolve that had been growing inside me since last night.
Vincent thought I’d broken.
He didn’t know me anymore.
I pulled out my laptop, opening files Alexander had helped me secure—copies of old company records, investment histories, documents hidden under names only his father would’ve known.
My mother’s handwriting was all over the margins of some of them. Little notes. Calculations. Corrections.
And then, in one file, I found something else.
A name.
Aurelius Holdings.
I frowned. “Aurelius?”
It wasn’t a Leclair or Voss company. But there was a signature—Vincent’s—and beside it, my mother’s initials.
My heart started to race.
By the time Alexander stirred awake, I was knee-deep in files and half a cup of cold coffee.
He sat up, rubbing his eyes. “You didn’t sleep.”
“There’s something you need to see,” I said, spinning the laptop toward him.
He leaned in, scanning the document. His expression changed fast—confusion, then realization.
“This isn’t a company. It’s a shell.”
“Exactly. It’s where they funneled money,” I said, my pulse picking up. “Both our families. But look here—” I pointed to a transfer line. “This one’s recent. Three weeks ago. Vincent’s still moving money through it.”
Alexander straightened. “He’s hiding something.”
“More than that,” I said. “He’s rebuilding.”
That did it. The exhaustion in Alexander’s eyes disappeared, replaced with something fierce. “Then we burn it all down.”
He pulled his phone from his pocket and dialed a number. “Caleb. Get the files ready. Everything on Aurelius Holdings. And I want you to dig into any connections Vincent’s made in the last six months.”
I listened as he spoke, feeling a strange sense of power rise inside me. For the first time in weeks, the fear wasn’t controlling me. I was using it.
When he hung up, I said softly, “We’re really doing this, aren’t we?”
He looked at me, eyes steady. “We’re taking back control.”
I nodded. “Then I’m in. All the way.”
\---
Alexander’s POV
By noon, we had everything we needed to start.
Caleb arrived with two laptops and a drive full of encrypted data. He’d always been good at finding dirt—probably because he had plenty of his own.
He dropped the drive on the table. “You two are either insane or suicidal.”
“Both,” Isabella said without hesitation. There was a spark in her now—defiance, focus, the kind of fire Vincent underestimated.
Caleb grinned. “Good. Then this’ll be fun.”
He plugged in the drive, and files opened across the screens. Vincent’s empire wasn’t just built on legitimate business. He’d laundered money, forged identities, even blackmailed officials. Half the city was tangled in his strings.
And all of it led back to Aurelius Holdings.
Caleb whistled low. “This isn’t just embezzlement. This is a full-blown shadow network.”
I stared at the lines connecting the names. Politicians. CEOs. Judges.
Vincent hadn’t just built an empire—he’d built insurance. If one part fell, ten others would burn with it.
I clenched my jaw. “We’ll cut every string.”
“Slow down,” Caleb warned. “If we make a move too early, he’ll smell it.”
“He already knows we’re coming,” Isabella said. “Let him smell it.”
I couldn’t help but glance at her then. There was something magnetic about the way she said it—like she’d stepped out of fear entirely. This wasn’t the same girl who’d flinched in Vincent’s office last night. This was someone rising from the ashes.
I reached across the table, fingers brushing hers. “When we’re done, he won’t have anything left to hide behind.”
She squeezed my hand, eyes steady. “Then let’s start.”
\---
Isabella’s POV
We spent hours digging. Every name, every number, every ghost company.
My eyes burned, but adrenaline kept me going.
And then—I found it.
An email chain buried under layers of encrypted folders. It was short, but my stomach twisted when I saw the name on the sender line.
Vincent Leclair → M. Alden.
The message read:
> “Shipment arrives Thursday. Same route as last time. No mistakes this round.”
Alexander read over my shoulder. “Shipment?”
Caleb swore. “That’s not money. That’s physical cargo.”
“Meaning?” I asked.
“Meaning whatever he’s moving—drugs, weapons, data—he’s planning to relocate it. Probably to disappear if things get too hot.”
Alexander’s voice dropped. “Then we find that shipment before he does.”
I nodded, already grabbing my jacket. “Then what are we waiting for?”
Caleb groaned. “You two really don’t sleep, do you?”
“No,” Alexander said, pulling open the door. “Not until this is over.”
\---
Alexander’s POV
The docks were quiet by the time we arrived. Too quiet. The kind of quiet that hums with danger.
Isabella stayed behind me, flashlight steady as we navigated between stacks of rusted containers. The air smelled of salt and oil. Somewhere, water slapped lazily against the hulls of ships.
“This doesn’t feel right,” she muttered.
“It’s not supposed to,” I replied.
We turned a corner—and froze.
Men in dark jackets were unloading crates from a truck. Vincent’s men. There were at least six of them.
“Stay here,” I whispered.
“Not a chance,” she said, stepping beside me. Her jaw was set.
I almost smiled. “Of course not.”
We crouched low behind a container, watching as the men moved. One of them opened a crate—and I saw the glint of something metallic inside.
Caleb’s voice crackled through Alexander’s earpiece. “You’re live on camera. I’m pulling a visual. Hold position.”
Alexander’s tone was clipped. “What are they moving?”
“Hard drives. Lots of them,” Caleb replied. “Encrypted. That’s the data we need.”
Perfect.
Alexander waited until one of the men drifted too far from the group, then moved fast. Silent. Precise. He grabbed the man from behind, arm locked around his neck until he went limp.
Isabella swallowed hard but didn’t look away. Instead, she moved to grab the man’s access badge.
“Get the drives,” Alexander whispered.
They slipped closer, timing their steps with the rumble of distant machinery. The wind carried faint voices, but no alarms. Not yet.
When Isabella reached the crate, she pried one hard drive free and slipped it into her jacket. Her heart hammered so loud she swore the guards could hear it.
“Got it,” she breathed.
“Good,” Alexander said. “Now we—”
A shout cut through the air.
“Hey! Who’s there?!”
They didn’t think. They ran.
Bullets cracked behind them, pinging off steel. Isabella ducked, adrenaline roaring through her veins. Alexander grabbed her hand, pulling her toward the loading ramp.
“Go, go!”
They burst through the side gate, out into the streetlights. Tires screeched as Caleb’s car swung around the corner.
“Get in!” he yelled.
They dove into the backseat just as gunfire shattered a nearby light post. Caleb slammed his foot on the gas, the car fishtailing before tearing down the dock road.
“Tell me you got something,” he said.
Isabella clutched her jacket. “I got more than something.”
\---
Isabella’s POV
Back in the penthouse, the world felt like it was vibrating. Caleb connected the drive immediately, fingers flying over the keyboard.
Encrypted. Locked. Layers of protection that screamed Vincent’s paranoia.
But slowly—painstakingly—the data began to open.
And what we saw made my stomach drop.
Video feeds. Transaction logs. Surveillance files. Vincent had been recording people—powerful people—his leverage over them stored in these drives.
“Oh my god,” I whispered. “He’s blackmailing half the city.”
Alexander leaned closer. “That’s how he stays untouchable.”
Caleb nodded grimly. “Until now.”
I looked at Alexander then. His jaw was tight, eyes blazing. He wasn’t just angry anymore. He was ready.
“This is it,” he said. “We leak this, he’s finished.”
I hesitated. “If we do, a lot of people go down with him.”
“Good,” he said flatly. “They let him get this far.”
There was no hesitation in his tone. Just truth.
And in that moment, I realized something—Alexander wasn’t just fighting for me anymore. He was fighting for us. For everything Vincent had tried to control.
I reached out, laying my hand on his. “Then let’s end it.”
He looked at me, eyes softer now. “You sure?”
I smiled faintly. “I’ve never been more sure of anything.”
\---
Alexander’s POV
As the first files uploaded into the leak server, I watched the progress bar crawl upward.
Thirty percent. Fifty. Seventy.
Vincent Leclair’s empire—his lies, his control—was unraveling in real time.
Isabella stood beside me, calm but fierce, her reflection glowing against the laptop screen. We didn’t speak. We didn’t need to.
When it hit one hundred percent, I hit send.
And just like that, everything he built began to burn.