Chapter 88 Fault Lines
From my office, I can see her.
Not perfectly. The glass is tinted and angled, designed so I can monitor the floor without it being obvious. A strategic architectural choice I approved years ago.
Today, it feels personal.
Violet hasn’t been still for more than thirty seconds at a time.
She’s snapping at printers. Cutting off a junior associate mid-sentence. Slamming files down a little harder than necessary. Her posture is rigid, movements sharp. Every time someone approaches her desk, her shoulders tense before she schools her expression.
She’s wound tight.
And I don’t hate it.
I lean back in my chair, steepling my fingers beneath my chin.
I like seeing her push back.
I hate watching people assume she’s soft because she’s “just an assistant.” I’ve seen the way some of them speak to her when they think I’m not paying attention. I’ve corrected that more than once.
Now she’s correcting it herself.
Good.
Theo steps into my line of vision, deliberately blocking my view.
“If you keep staring at her like that,” he says dryly, “she’s going to call HR. Or the FBI.”
I smirk faintly but don’t move my gaze for another second. Then, reluctantly, I look away.
“Has the PI responded?” I ask.
Theo’s humor fades.
He shakes his head. “No. And before you say anything, he warned us. He said if he thought his life was in danger, he’d go dark.”
I exhale sharply through my nose.
“He thinks someone’s following him,” Theo continues. “We give it a few days. If he doesn’t surface, we start digging.”
Theo’s brows lift slightly.
The tension in my chest has been building since this morning. Since Internal Affairs told us they can’t find Calder. Since Violet started flinching every time the elevator dings.
I push up from my chair and start pacing.
“This city is rotten,” I say. “The people who run it? Rotten. Money-hungry weasels lining their pockets while the foundation cracks under them.”
Theo moves further inside the office and shuts the door fully behind him.
“You’re spiraling,” he says carefully.
“They don’t care that their department is corrupt,” I continue, ignoring him. “They don’t care that officers are abusing their power. They don’t care that a man who should have been in prison years ago was carrying a badge.”
Theo’s jaw tightens. “Rowan—”
“They don’t care that a PI was murdered,” I press on. “That journalists fabricate narratives. That city officials shake hands with criminals as long as the optics look clean.”
My voice has risen. I can hear it.
I don’t care.
“As long as they look good, that’s all that matters.”
Theo steps closer. “This isn’t the time to lose control.”
I stop pacing and turn on him.
“I am not losing control.”
“You’re angry.”
“Yes.”
“Good. But don’t let it drive.”
I laugh once, humorless. “Don’t lecture me.”
“Then don’t implode your own empire because you’re pissed off,” Theo fires back.
The room goes very still.
“I can’t do this,” I say, quieter now but no less intense. “I cannot keep playing by their rules while they ignore everything rotting underneath.”
Theo studies me, something almost like concern flickering across his face.
“You need to calm down,” he says. “Think rationally. You always think rationally.”
I look at him flatly. “Fuck off.”
He blinks.
“Get Devin,” I order.
Theo hesitates just long enough that I see it—fear.
Not of me physically.
Of what I might decide.
He nods slowly, backing toward the door. “I’ll call him.”
He slips out, already pulling his phone from his pocket.
I drag a hand through my hair and turn back toward my desk.
The door opens again.
I assume it’s Theo returning.
It’s not.
It’s Violet.
She steps inside without knocking.
Her eyes are intense. Focused.
“One of the investment brokers is on line two,” she says briskly. “Their entire system just went down.”
For a split second, all I can think is—
Of course it did.
“Send them through,” I say immediately, moving back toward my desk.
“And order lunch for everyone,” I add.
She nods once.
“Turkey on rye. No mustard,” she says automatically.
I freeze for half a second.
“That’s what you were about to say,” she adds, already turning toward the door.
She remembered.
Not because it’s her job.
Because she pays attention.
Something shifts in my chest, tight, unfamiliar, almost dangerous.
It makes my pulse stutter.
It makes my thoughts stumble.
And for one reckless second, the word surfaces before I can crush it.
Love.
I go still.
Did I just—
No.
I don’t love.
I calculate. I secure. I protect.
Love is unpredictable. Weakening. Chaotic.
But the way she said it... like she knows me. Like she’s catalogued my preferences the same way I’ve memorized hers—
It does something to me.
Something I don’t have a framework for.
I exhale slowly through my nose, trying to regain control of my own mind.
This isn’t love.
It’s alignment.
Compatibility.
Possession.
It has to be.
The line clicks over.
“Mr. Ashcroft,” the voice on the other end says, strained but trying very hard not to sound it. “This is Daniel Mercer from Halstead & Crowe Capital.”
I lean back slowly in my chair, gaze flicking once through the tinted glass toward Violet’s desk before settling forward again.
“Yes, Mr. Mercer,” I say evenly. “You mentioned a systems disruption.”
A breath on the other end.
“Yes. That’s… part of it.”
Part of it.
I don’t like qualifiers.
“What’s the other part?” I ask.
There’s a faint shuffle of papers. Someone murmuring in the background. A door closing.
“Early this morning,” Mercer continues carefully, “our compliance department received a formal notice from the City Oversight Committee requesting an immediate review of all municipal bond positions associated with Ashcroft Development.”
I don’t move.
My voice stays calm.
“On what grounds?”
“They cited concerns regarding potential conflicts of interest tied to current law enforcement investigations.”
There it is.
My jaw tightens slightly.
“Be specific,” I say.
“The request came directly from Councilwoman Hargrove’s office.”
The name lands without surprise.
But it still irritates.
“What exactly did she request?” I ask.
“A temporary compliance freeze,” Mercer replies. “Pending a review of your firm’s exposure to city-backed redevelopment bonds and pension allocations.”
“A freeze,” I repeat.
“Yes.”
My tone doesn’t change.
“And you complied.”
There’s a pause.
“We’re obligated to when a formal oversight inquiry is filed.”
“You’re obligated to review,” I correct him. “You are not obligated to freeze.”
Silence.
Then, lower now, “There were… additional communications.”
I lean forward slightly.
“From whom?”
“Councilwoman Hargrove’s office reached out directly to our executive board last night.”
Ah.
Not just paperwork.
Pressure.
“And what did she say?” I ask.
Mercer hesitates long enough that I picture him swallowing.
“She expressed concerns about reputational exposure,” he says carefully. “Given your… involvement in the Detective Calder matter.”
“My involvement,” I repeat, voice smooth as glass.
“She implied that federal review could be forthcoming,” Mercer continues. “That your firm may become entangled in a broader inquiry.”