Chapter 143
Lena's POV
Twenty minutes later, I was in my makeshift war room, laptop open to an encrypted file share. Rowan stood by the window, present but silent. Giving me space.
"Internal communications from Silverpine going back twenty-three years," Diana explained over video. Rachel and Sophia flanked her on screen, all three hunched over their own devices. "Raven wasn't kidding about having access."
I scrolled through the files. Coded language, but not coded enough. References to "the Grant situation." Instructions to "maintain discretion regarding the inheritance matter." And then, buried in a thread from two decades ago:
Client MG requests additional services re: family complications. Grandfather becoming difficult. Recommend standard protocol.
My hand froze on the trackpad.
"There's more," Diana said quietly. "An encrypted exchange from last week. Marcus knows we're building a case. He's already started moving assets. And Lena—" She paused. "He specifically mentions 'insurance regarding daughter's cooperation.'"
The photographs. He was going to release them regardless.
"How long do we have?" My voice came out level. Professional. Nothing like the scream building behind my ribs.
"Unknown. But based on the transfer patterns, he's preparing to ghost. Maybe forty-eight hours before he's beyond reach."
I pulled up my statement draft. The cursor blinked at me, patient.
Two paths stretched out, clear as litigation strategy:
Option A: Publish the statement now. Submit the RICO filing simultaneously. Force Marcus's hand before he could disappear. Take control of the narrative at the cost of losing the element of surprise.
Option B: File everything under seal. Wait for the arrest warrant. Keep Marcus in the dark until the moment federal agents knocked on his door. Safer. Slower. And it gave him time to strike first.
"Team meeting," I said. "Thirty minutes. I need everyone's input."
---
They assembled on screen like a war council. Diana, Rachel, Sophia. Emily joined from her office. Even Alexander, despite the early hour.
I laid out both options, clinical in my analysis. Pros and cons. Risk assessment. Likelihood of success.
"Option A gets ahead of the story," Diana said. "You control the narrative from the start. But Marcus will know we're coming."
"Option B protects the investigation," Alexander added. "Better chance of actually getting him in custody before he runs."
"Option A could trigger him to release those photos anyway," Emily cut in, her therapist voice edged with protective fury. "Out of spite if nothing else. Are you prepared for that?"
Was I? I looked at my hands, steady on the desk. Thought about seven-year-old Lena, still curled in that corner in my dreams. Still believing it was her fault.
"I need a minute," I said.
They nodded, screens minimizing to give me space. Except Rowan. He hadn't joined the video call, had stayed physically present instead. Standing by the bookshelf, silent as a sentinel.
"You haven't said anything," I pointed out.
"You didn't ask my opinion."
"I'm asking now."
He turned from the window, and the morning light cut across his face, highlighting the exhaustion I'd seen earlier. The worry he was trying to contain.
"You're the lead counsel on this case," he said finally. "I trust your judgment."
"That's a non-answer."
"No. It's the only answer that matters." He moved closer, but stopped well outside my personal space. Respecting the boundaries I'd set. "You want to know what I think? I think Option A is dangerous. I think Marcus will lash out. I think you'll be vulnerable in ways that make me want to burn the whole world down to keep you safe."
My breath caught.
I stared at him. Waiting for the but. The subtle pressure. The way he'd frame support as a reason I should choose what he wanted.
It didn't come.
"What if I'm wrong?" The question escaped before I could stop it. "What if I choose A and Marcus runs? What if—"
"Then we chase him to the ends of the earth." Rowan's certainty was absolute. "You have every resource I can provide. Every connection. Every dollar. But the decision? That's yours alone."
Something shifted in my chest. Not the softening I'd feared. Something harder. Stronger.
He was giving me room to fail. To make the wrong call. To face consequences. Not because he didn't care, but because he finally understood that protecting me meant letting me protect myself.
"I need to think," I said.
"Take all the time you need." He moved toward the door, then paused. "For what it's worth? Whatever you decide, I'm proud of you. I should have said that two years ago. Every day for two years."
The door closed softly behind him.
I sat alone with my choice, the cursor still blinking on my screen. Two paths. Both terrifying. Both mine.
But for the first time since this whole nightmare began, I wasn't choosing out of fear or obligation or what someone else needed me to do.
I was choosing for myself.
And somehow, knowing Rowan would catch me if I fell—not by stopping me from jumping, but by standing at the bottom with his arms open—made all the difference.
I pulled up my contacts. Hit Emily's direct line.
"I've made my decision," I said when she answered.
"Which one?"
I looked at the statement on my screen. At the evidence files Diana had sent. At the reflection of myself in the darkened window—tired, afraid, but no longer alone.
"Both," I said. "We're doing both."