Chapter 182: The Last Recruit

Rex found the apartment darker than usual when he stepped in—shadows already gathering in the corners, the city’s hum muffled as if the world outside had decided to be polite and look away. The front door clicked shut behind him; his shoes made a dull sound on the parquet. He paused a moment, chest tight with the sort of exhaustion that didn’t go away with sleep. He should have been relieved to be home. Instead, he felt a hollow that had been growing for months, a small animal of longing that thudded when he thought of Rosy and Ryan.

The living room light was on. Judith was there, slumped on the sofa with a glass in one hand and a scatter of empty bottles by her feet. Her hair was loose, a few strands falling over her face; her make-up had smeared in places, and the red in her eyes stood out against pale skin. She looked ruinous and magnificent in equal measures—a portrait he had watched be painted over the years until he no longer knew which version of her was real.

“Judith,” Rex said, his tone caught somewhere between irritation and concern. “What happened here?”

She looked up slowly, her lips trembling before curling into a bitter smile. “You’re home,” she said, voice thick with exhaustion. “Finally.”

He frowned. “Have you been drinking all day?”

Judith laughed softly, almost mockingly. “Wouldn’t you, if you were me?” She reached for another half-empty glass and downed what was left before slamming it back onto the table. “You won’t believe what happened today, Rex. I ran into her.”

Rex’s shoulders stiffened. “Who?”

“Annie.” Her voice cracked on the name, then hardened again. “Your precious Annie Yin.”

He froze, trying to read her expression. “What about her? What happened?”

Judith’s eyes filled again, and she leaned back into the couch, shaking her head as if she still couldn’t process it. “She called me barren,” she whispered. Then louder, almost shouting now: “She called me barren, Rex. In front of people. She said I’d never understand what motherhood felt like, that I’d never know love the way she does.”

Rex blinked, shock and disbelief twisting inside him. “What?”

Judith let out a shaky laugh that sounded nothing like amusement. “You think I’d make that up? She looked right at me with that smug little smile—the same one she used to wear when she had you wrapped around her finger. I was just walking out of the spa and there she was, acting like she owned the world. And when I tried to walk away, she said it. Clear as day.”

Her words hit him hard, each one sinking deeper, feeding something ugly that had been festering since the tabloids first started flashing pictures of Annie and Alaric. He could almost see it—the arrogance, the pity in Annie’s eyes, the quiet superiority she carried now like she had everything, like she owned the world.

Judith watched the anger spread through him like gasoline catching a spark. She lowered her voice, softer, careful now. “You know what the worst part is? I tried to do something about it. I tried to take control of this whole thing—to get back what’s yours.”

Rex looked at her sharply. “What do you mean?”

“I tried to hire people to go on with the plan,” she said quietly. “To bring the twins back. To make her face what she’s done. But no one would take the job.”

“Why?”

“Because of him,” she hissed. “Alaric Devereux. He’s paid off everyone. The men Daniel Harrow introduced me to were practically—cowards. They refused to touch the deal the moment they saw who the children were. They said crossing Alaric was a death wish. Even the ones who used to work for my family are terrified of him. He owns this whole city, Rex.”

Rex’s jaw clenched. The idea of Alaric—his rival—standing untouchable while Annie paraded their supposed happiness in front of the world, in front of him made his stomach twist. “And you were trying to handle this alone?”

Judith nodded, her voice trembling just enough to sound sincere. “I didn’t want to involve you. I didn’t want to drag you into something dangerous. But now…” She looked up at him, eyes glossy and pleading. “Now I don’t have a choice. If we want to make her pay, if we want to protect what’s ours, if we want our family with the twins then we’ll have to do it ourselves.”

Rex’s chest tightened. “Judith—”

“She called me barren, Rex,” Judith interrupted, her voice cracking again. “She’s mocking everything I’ve lost. Everything we’ve lost. Are you really going to let her walk away with your children? With your heir? With your legacy?”

Rex stared at her. The words landed exactly where she wanted them to. His expression hardened, anger overtaking reason. “No,” he said quietly. “I won’t.”

Judith studied him carefully, as though watching a trap spring shut. “Then help me,” she said softly. “You have men who still trust you. Loyal ones. We’ll get the twins and disappear. Start over somewhere new—just us. Away from all this madness. She’ll never find us, and Alaric will be too powerless consoling her to stop it.”

For a moment, Rex didn’t answer. The thought sounded insane—dangerous—but the image of Annie’s face when she might have said that word barren (even though it was all in Judith’s imagination) burned in his mind. His pride, already hanging by threads, finally snapped.

He turned to her, his voice cold. “I’ll handle it. I’ll find the men. If Alaric thinks he owns this city, I’ll remind him who built it first.”

Judith’s lips twitched into a small, victorious smile, but she lowered her head quickly to hide it. “Thank you, Rex. I knew you’d see things clearly.”

He walked to the bar and poured himself a drink, his movements sharp and deliberate. “No one insults my family and gets away with it,” he muttered.

Judith looked up at him from the couch, her expression unreadable. “She won’t,” she whispered. “I promise you, she won’t.”

He left then—moving with a purpose that was at once desperate and resolute. As he closed the door behind him, Judith watched him go and allowed herself to savor the moment: the exact instant when a man makes a choice that changes everything.

Outside, the city breathed on, indifferent and bright. Inside, the bottles clinked softly, the room littered with the detritus of a plan that had shifted from theory to action. The last levers were being pulled. The trap was moving from ink on paper into the steadier terrain of men and money and the dangerous, irrevocable decisions of the heart.

And for the first time that night, her tears stopped.

Because Judith Radsford had gotten exactly what she wanted.