Chapter 135
I lowered myself into the chair across from Julian, every movement sending fresh waves of pain through my broken hand and bruised ribs.
The recording device on the table blinked its red eye at me like an accusation, and I could feel the weight of the two attorneys' stares boring into my skull.
Adrian stood by the door like a prison guard, his expression carved from ice.
Julian didn't speak immediately.
He just watched me with those cold, calculating eyes—the same eyes that used to soften with guilt whenever I mentioned how much I'd sacrificed for him, how fragile my health was, how desperately I needed him.
Now there was nothing.
No warmth, no obligation, no trace of the man I'd manipulated for years.
When he finally broke the silence, his voice was clinical.
"Let's not waste time pretending you don't know why you're here," he said, leaning back in his chair with the kind of ease that made my stomach twist.
"Adrian has compiled a comprehensive file on your activities over the past three years.
Bank records.
Encrypted communications.
Offshore accounts.
The shell companies you used to funnel money.
The payments you made to Catherine Vanderbilt.
The cryptocurrency transactions linked to the men who attacked my wife on that rooftop."
My throat constricted.
He knows everything.
I opened my mouth to speak, but he held up one hand, silencing me with a gesture that felt like a slap.
"I'm not interested in denials," Julian continued, his gaze never leaving mine.
"I'm not interested in excuses or sob stories about how much you loved me, how desperate you were, how you thought you were protecting our future together.
I've heard it all before, Victoria.
And frankly, I'm done listening to your lies."
The words hit me like physical blows, each one stripping away another layer of the carefully constructed facade I'd spent years building.
I felt my face flush with humiliation, my pulse hammering in my ears as I struggled to maintain some semblance of composure.
"Julian, please—" I started, but he cut me off again.
"What I am interested in," he said, leaning forward now, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper, "is understanding exactly how far you were willing to go.
How many people you hurt.
How much damage you caused.
Because right now, the evidence we have is enough to put you in federal prison for a very long time.
Fraud. Conspiracy. Attempted murder.
And if you think your family name or your connections will protect you, you're even more delusional than I thought."
I felt the blood drain from my face.
Attempted murder.
The words hung in the air between us, sharp and unforgiving, and I knew with sickening certainty that he wasn't bluffing.
He had the proof.
He had witnesses.
He had everything he needed to destroy me completely.
One of the attorneys—a severe-looking woman in her fifties with steel-gray hair—slid a thick folder across the table toward me.
I stared at it like it was a bomb about to explode.
"These are copies of the financial records linking you to the attack on Mrs. Sterling," the attorney said, her tone as cold as Julian's.
"We have transaction logs showing payments from one of your shell companies to an intermediary, who then paid the men who assaulted her.
We also have text message records between you and Catherine Vanderbilt discussing the logistics of the assault.
Catherine has already provided a full confession in exchange for a reduced sentence.
She's cooperating with federal investigators as we speak."
My hands—or rather, my one good hand—trembled as I reached for the folder.
I flipped it open with clumsy fingers, my vision blurring as I scanned page after page of damning evidence.
Bank statements.
Screenshots of encrypted messages.
Photos of the men who'd attacked Elena, along with their statements implicating me as the one who'd hired them through Catherine.
It's over. It's all over.
I forced myself to look up at Julian, searching his face for some flicker of the man who used to care about me, who used to fly to Paris just to check on me, who used to promise he'd marry me as soon as his contract with Elena expired.
But there was nothing.
Just cold, hard fury and something that looked almost like disgust.
"Why?" he asked, his voice low and controlled but vibrating with barely suppressed rage.
"Why did you do it, Victoria?
Was it jealousy?
Greed?
Some twisted need to control me?"
I swallowed hard, my throat dry as sandpaper.
Part of me wanted to confess everything—to throw myself on his mercy and beg for forgiveness.
But another part of me, the part that had spent years crafting lies and manipulating situations to my advantage, refused to go down without a fight.
"I loved you," I said, my voice cracking despite my best efforts to sound strong.
"I've always loved you, Julian.
Everything I did, I did because I couldn't stand the thought of losing you to her."
Julian's jaw tightened, and I saw his hands clench into fists on the table.
"Don't," he said, his voice sharp enough to cut glass.
"Don't you dare try to frame this as some grand romantic gesture. You didn't love me, Victoria. You loved the idea of me—the power, the status, the money. You loved what being with me could give you."
"That's not true—"
"Isn't it?" he interrupted, his eyes blazing now.
"Then explain to me why you hired men to attack a pregnant woman.
Explain to me why you paid Catherine to orchestrate an assault that could have killed my wife and my unborn child.
Explain to me why you've spent the last three years systematically destroying everyone who got in your way."
I felt tears prick at the corners of my eyes, but I blinked them back furiously.
Crying now would only make me look weaker, more pathetic.
And I refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing me break down completely.
"I was desperate," I said, my voice barely above a whisper.
"When I found out about your marriage—when I realized you'd been lying to me for years—I lost control.
I thought if I could just get rid of her, if I could make you see that she was nothing but a gold-digging opportunist, you'd come back to me.
You'd realize we were meant to be together."
Julian stared at me for a long moment, and then he suddenly laughed.
It was a harsh, bitter sound that sent chills down my spine.
"You really believe that, don't you?" he said, shaking his head in disbelief.
"You actually think you were justified in trying to kill an innocent woman because you couldn't handle the fact that I chose someone else over you."
"She wasn't innocent!" I snapped, my composure finally cracking.
"She trapped you!
She drugged you on purpose to force you into marrying her, and then she played the victim to win over your family.
She's a manipulative little—"
"Stop." Julian's voice was like a whip crack, silencing me instantly. "You don't get to talk about her. You don't get to justify what you did by blaming her for your own failures. Elena never asked for any of this. She never wanted to be part of your sick games.”
“And the fact that you can sit there and try to paint her as the villain when you're the one who hired thugs to attack her—to attack my wife, to try to kill my child—tells me everything I need to know about who you really are."
"Was it really you who saved me before?"