Chapter 43 Clean Hands, Dirty Wars
\-Lucien-
I walked into Celeste’s hospital with a chest tight with frustration. I couldn’t bring myself to tell her that maybe, just maybe, her father was involved in the attack that nearly cost her life.
She smiled warmly at me, and something shifted.
The plan was never meant to endanger her like that.
I forced a polite smile as I reached her side. “How are you feeling this morning?”
“Much better, and you?” She gestured to her forehead, “Does it hurt?”
She asked, referring to the bruise on mine.
“No.” I shook my head and plopped onto the chair, eyes drifting to the window and the city beyond.
Downstairs, security tried to block the press from sneaking in, though a few had slipped past, pretending to be patients.
“The press are trying to get a statement, but security is handling it. Stay here until it dies down,” I told her.
She nodded, her face dull, unreadable.
“What happened?” I asked.
“My sister,” she corrected herself, shaking her head. “I mean Lilith. She called… said she had something to tell me about the accident.”
My attention piqued. Was she in on it too?
I leaned forward. “What did she say?”
She shook her head slowly. “I don’t know… I think her mother walked in. The line’s been unreachable since. Do you think she knows something? What if it was my stepmother’s doing?”
I paused. If I lingered too long, I might say something I shouldn’t.
I cleared my throat, rose to my feet, and adjusted my cufflinks.
“I have to see my father, but I’ll come back as soon as I can. I also asked Denise to bring your lunch. The chef is handling it. You trust her, right?”
She nodded, eyes flicking toward the door as if weighing my every movement.
I gave a faint nod and turned to leave. It would ruin her if she knew the truth.
Outside, I thought of what she had said about her sister. If she knew something, then she could be the key to this matter.
The law firm, Blackwell & Co. It was supposed to be my destiny, but it was never my dream. It was his, and for the formative years of my life, I believed that lie until I saw the light.
I walked into the large space, and was greeted with an air of rigidity: marble flooring, glass walls, beige, and more beige.
Of course.
Just as I stepped into the elevator, Colin appeared out of nowhere, holding the door despite the people waiting. His face twisted into a mocking grin.
“Hey, long time no see, Uncle,” he said, his tone dripping with condescension.
I clenched my fists, rage rising to the surface, but I forced myself to stay calm.
“Tired of Celeste already? Here for a divorce…or an annulment?” His tone was smug, irritatingly amused. “You know I can handle it.” He grinned.
This fool.
I let out a dry laugh, stepping closer to the door.
“Tired?” I scoffed, “The only thing I’m tired of is seeing your pathetic face here right now. Did you honestly think, for even a second, that she’d choose you if we ended things? You’re insufferable, foolish, and childish.”
He froze, his smug grin faltering, eyes widening in disbelief. But I wasn’t done yet.
“You should probably go work on yourself, maybe then you’d be ready to handle an actual case instead of throwing yourself at people in elevators.”
I heard a snicker or two behind me.
Quietly, I reached out, removed his hands from the door, and let it close between us.
He stared in defeat, but deep down, there was nothing he could do.
My irritation worsened when I reached the executive floor, but I reminded myself that I had called this meeting.
Everything here was shiny and brittle, the kind of perfection that almost suffocated, including my father’s office.
“You’re late,” he said, glancing at his watch. “I have a meeting with the partners in five.”
“Well, your grandson held the elevator,” I replied, keeping my tone calm as I sat on the couch across his desk. “I’ll make it quick. You’ve probably seen the news…heard what happened.”
His lips pressed thin as he spared me a glance. “Well, you look fine to me.”
I scoffed, barely containing my annoyance.
“You don’t realize how bad this could have been, do you? If the shooter had waited a second longer, I would have been dead by now. And Celeste…” I paused, forcing back the words.
I couldn’t bring myself to entertain the thought that she could have died too.
He simply crossed his hands, like this was just another meeting.
“Well, it was your job to keep her safe,” he said sharply. “She didn’t die, did she?—”
“Well, now she’s in the hospital, asking questions I can’t answer… You know what? I’m done. I won’t be a party to this.”
He scoffed dismissively, “You’re already in too deep. If you stop now, James will think he’s won. Don’t you want to find your mother?”
“Let me guess,” I said coolly. “That’s your pitch?”
“Not a pitch, a fact. You must carry on,” he said firmly.
I exhaled slowly. “Then answer me. How did he know I was looking for my mother?”
He went quiet.
My jaw tightened. “Did you—”
“I had to keep myself clean,” he cut in.
Rage flared in my chest, I was seconds away from exploding. “Whose side are you exactly on?!” I sharply said.
“No one,” he said flatly. “I’m just a neutral body in the game.”
A bitter laugh escaped me. “So I’m just a pawn in all of this?”
“You knew what you were getting into when you agreed to this,” he said. “Did you really think the Ashfords would sit with crossed arms and do nothing? This is a battle, boy. One you either fight, or lose.”
My teeth clenched. I had done this to myself, walked straight into a trap with my eyes wide open.
“If you stop now,” he continued, voice cold, “they’ll put a bounty on your head. Hunt you down. Just like they did the others…”
Silence stretched between us.
My fingers drummed hard against the armrest—once, twice, again. My jaw locked as my teeth ground. All I could think of was his betrayal.
Then my phone rang.
Jackson.
I answered.
“They’ve found the shooter,” he said. “Get to the station. Now.”