Chapter 116 Janet's Wounded Heart and Western's Secrets
DAVID
The early morning air feels crisp against my skin as I sit on the patio, laptop balanced on my knees. The garden stretches before me, lush and serene, a stark contrast to the storm brewing in my mind. I’ve been up since dawn, going over my plans. Today, everything has to fall into place.
A faint rumble breaks the silence, growing louder until a sleek black Lamborghini pulls into the driveway. Janet steps out, her stilettos clicking against the pavement, exuding confidence as she walks toward me.
"Nice car," I say, leaning back in my chair, a smirk tugging at my lips. "But it’s Grandpa’s, isn’t it?"
She rolls her eyes, flipping her hair over her shoulder. "You don’t have to embarrass me first thing in the morning. And for your information, what’s Grandpa’s is technically mine too."
"Really?" I arch a brow, feigning skepticism. "So you’re his favorite now?"
"Obviously," she says, settling into the chair beside me. Her smug grin tells me she’s enjoying this little victory.
"Alright, enough about your inflated ego. We have business to discuss," I say, setting my laptop aside and leaning forward. "I’ve been watching Western’s moves for weeks now. Yesterday, I hacked into his phone."
Janet’s jaw drops. "You’re joking. That man is a fortress. No way you pulled that off."
I chuckle, enjoying her surprise. "No matter how careful he thinks he is, I always find a way. You know that."
She shakes her head, a laugh escaping her. "You’re insane. Remember when he sent that assassin after you? And instead of running, you…."
"killed the bastard and sent his body back to Western as a gift," I finish for her, my tone sharp. "He thought he could intimidate me over a business deal. I had to make it clear I’m not someone he can mess with."
Janet’s laughter fades, and her expression turns serious. "But why is he targeting Bella now?"
The mention of Bella makes my fists clench involuntarily. My mind flashes to the way Western looked at her, the way his gaze lingered too long when she wasn’t watching.
"I think it started when he and Mrs. Williams came to my company," I say, my voice low. "Mrs. Williams was overly kind to Bella, and Western didn’t like it. Something about that pendant Bella wears it caught Mrs. Williams’ attention. She said she has one just like it. And Mrs. Williams doesn’t wear anything she hasn’t designed herself."
Janet’s brow furrows. "Are you saying…?"
"I’m saying there’s a possibility Mrs. Williams is Bella’s biological mother. And if that’s true, Western knows it," I reply.
Her gasp is almost audible. "But why would he care? Unless…"
"Unless it affects whatever plan he has for Mrs. Williams’ company," I finish for her.
Janet leans back in her chair, processing everything. Her eyes are distant, but there’s a fire in them that wasn’t there before.
"David," she says, her voice trembling slightly. "I’m in. Whatever it takes. I know he killed my parents."
I turn to her, studying her face. There’s a weight behind her words, something she’s been holding back.
"Why are you so certain?" I ask.
Her hands clench into fists on her lap. "Because I was there," she whispers. "The night it happened, we were all in the car my parents and me. A truck hit us, hard. I remember the driver getting out, making a call. He said, ‘Mr. Western, the family is dead.’ But I wasn’t dead. I had to pretend I was, lying there in the wreckage, covered in my parents’ blood."
The air between us grows heavy. My chest tightens as I watch Janet fight to keep her composure.
"Do you remember his face?" I ask, my voice softer now.
She nods. "I drew him once, years ago. The drawing is still in the treehouse."
I stare at her, shocked by how much she’s been hiding. For years, I thought her hatred for Western was fueled by grief, but now I see it’s something much deeper.
"Janet," I say, my tone firm. "We’ll bring him to justice. Not just for your parents but for Bella too. He knows something about her past, and I intend to find out what it is."
She nods, her resolve strengthening. "So, when do we start?"
"Now," I reply, standing and grabbing my laptop. "We need that drawing, and we’ll cross-reference it with news reports from that year. We’re going to find the truck’s number and trace everything back to him."
Her lips curl into a determined smile. "Let’s make him pay.”