Chapter 94 Careful
"It's overwhelming," I confessed. "It feels like... like walking out of a dark room into the midday sun. It's blinding."
He reached out, his left hand finding mine, his thumb gently stroking my knuckles.
"You deserve the light," he said softly. "Every bit of it."
"They're calling me a survivor," I said, looking down at our joined hands. "But I didn't survive it alone. I wouldn't be here if you hadn't taken that bullet."
Tristan’s jaw tightened. "We're not going back to that, Mina. I told you, the debt is paid. The past is closed."
"I know." I looked up at him. "I just... I want to make sure you're okay with this. The spotlight is going to be intense for a while. Everyone is watching us."
"Let them watch," he said, a fierce, unapologetic light in his eyes. "Let them see exactly who you are."
He pulled me slightly closer.
"I have a meeting with Vane later this afternoon," he said, changing the subject with deliberate focus. "About Agatha."
I stiffened. I had almost forgotten about the Senator’s wife in the whirlwind of the last few days.
"What about her?" I asked.
"She called Vane this morning," Tristan said, his voice hardening into the cold, detached tone he reserved for his enemies. "She wants to negotiate a settlement regarding Ida's legal defense fund."
"Ida’s defense fund? I thought you froze her offshore accounts."
"I did," Tristan said. "But Agatha is trying to leverage her own political connections to quietly secure high-powered representation for Ida. She wants to keep the Johnston name out of a messy public trial."
"So she wants to pay to keep Ida quiet?"
"She wants me to pay," Tristan corrected grimly. "She wants me to release a portion of Ida’s frozen trust, citing 'humanitarian' legal needs, in exchange for Agatha ensuring the trial doesn't become a circus."
I stared at him, incredulous. "She's trying to blackmail you?"
"She's trying to survive," Tristan said. "Agatha’s power comes from her proximity to money and influence. With Ida locked up and my public disavowal, her social standing is in freefall. She's desperate."
"What are you going to do?" I asked, knowing the answer before he even spoke.
The Titan looked out the window, his eyes cold and unforgiving.
"I'm going to cut off her oxygen," he said simply.
That afternoon, Vane arrived at the estate.
The meeting took place in the small library in the east wing. I sat beside Tristan on the small sofa, listening as Vane laid out the legal reality.
"She's bluffing," Vane stated, pacing the length of the room. "Agatha doesn't have the political capital to shield Ida from this. The DA is furious about the Opera House explosion. It’s domestic terrorism. No politician is going to touch that."
"I know she's bluffing," Tristan said, sitting rigidly, his arm secured in the heavy sling. "But I want to make sure she understands that the game is over."
"So, we deny the release of funds," Vane concluded, checking his notes.
"No," Tristan said. "We do more than that."
He looked at Vane, his amber eyes utterly devoid of mercy.
"Agatha’s lifestyle is heavily subsidized by the Johnston corporate accounts," Tristan said. "She has an open expense account, access to the corporate jets, and she lives in a penthouse owned by a Veridian subsidiary."
Vane stopped pacing, pushing his glasses up his nose. "Those arrangements were made by Ida years ago."
"I know," Tristan said. "And today, they end. Cancel the expense accounts. Ground the jets. And serve her with a thirty-day eviction notice for the penthouse."
I looked at Tristan. It was a brutal, systematic dismantling of a woman’s entire life.
"Tristan," Vane said carefully. "Agatha is well-connected. If you cut her off entirely, she might go to the press. She could spin a narrative about the cruel billionaire abandoning his vulnerable stepmother."
"Let her," Tristan challenged, his voice like cracking ice. "The press already knows what her daughter did. If Agatha wants to stand in front of the cameras and defend a woman who wired a building with C4 and tried to murder my... my partner... she can try. But she'll be doing it from the street."
Vane nodded slowly, a predatory smile touching his lips. "I'll have the notices drafted and served by 5:00 PM."
"Good." Tristan leaned back against the sofa cushions, the exertion of the meeting draining him. "Make sure she understands that if she contacts me or Minerva again, I will have her arrested for extortion."
"Understood."
Vane left the room.
The silence that followed was heavy with the finality of the decision.
Agatha was the last lingering piece of the toxic empire Ida had built. Cutting her out was the final act of demolition.
"Are you okay?" I asked softly, turning to him.
Tristan closed his eyes, letting out a long, shuddering breath.
"I feel lighter," he admitted, his voice quiet. "I thought I needed them. I thought that kind of ruthless protection was the only way to survive in this world."
He opened his eyes and looked at me.
"I was wrong," he said.
He reached out with his left hand, taking mine. His grip was warm and steady.
"We have a lot of building to do," he murmured.
"We do," I agreed, looking down at his hand, tracing the faint scar on his knuckle.
"The west wing," he said. "Have you finalized the new plans?"
I smiled. I had been working on them secretly in the penthouse, waiting for the right moment.
"I have," I said. "I scrapped the old footprint entirely. We're tearing down the stone walls and opening it up to the gardens."
"And the old drawing room?" he asked, his voice dropping slightly, the memory of our conversation in the library during the rainstorm hovering between us. What if we leave it blank?
I looked into his amber eyes. I saw the hesitation there. The fear that he was pushing too fast, asking for too much after everything we had been through.
I squeezed his hand.
"I didn't leave it blank," I told him, my voice steady and clear.
His breath hitched. The question hung in the air, silent and heavy.
"I designed it as a nursery," I said softly.
The world seemed to stop spinning.
Tristan stared at me, his eyes widening, a profound, shattering hope blooming across his face.
"Mina," he choked out, the word thick with emotion.
"It has large windows," I continued, fighting back tears. "Lots of natural light. And it's right next to the new master suite. Close enough to hear everything."