Chapter 25
Emily Windsor's POV
When someone'd already lost their mind, words were meaningless.
"Emily, you think I'm trying to scare you?" Julie shot up from her seat, closing the distance in seconds to block my path. Her eyes burned with self-destructive fury. "You think you know anything about Luke's world? You really think he keeps you around because he likes you? Don't be naive!"
She yanked a crumpled stack of papers from her worn bag and hurled them at my chest.
The pages were scattered across the floor like wounded butterflies.
"Look at this! Look at what your devoted Mr. Reed really is—what the Victor family really is!" She was panting, chest heaving, eyes gleaming with venomous satisfaction. "I got this from the Lowe Family. They investigated you, your whole family! Want to know what they found?"
My gaze froze on one of the papers at my feet. An old police report, the header stark and damning: The Restaurant Shooting in Queens.
The name hit me like a sledgehammer, leaving my ears ringing.
That case was the nightmare that had haunted me my entire life.
As a child, my grandmother loved taking me to that restaurant for a bowl of pasta.
That day, gunshots shattered the air without warning. One moment, she was smiling at me warmly. The next, she was lying in a pool of blood, having thrown herself between me and the bullets.
That was my first encounter with death. The acrid smell of blood, the gradual cooling of her body—it carved a wound into my childhood that would never heal.
My hands trembled as I bent down to retrieve the file.
"Surprised?" Julie's twisted laughter echoed in my ears like a devil's curse. "That shooting—one of the parties involved was from the Victor family! The people who killed your grandmother were the thugs working for Luke's father!"
My mind exploded. Everything went black for a moment.
I stared at a name circled on the report.
Woody Cox.
I'd seen that name before—in the Victor family's old files.
He'd been one of Luke's father's most trusted enforcers, notorious for his ruthlessness. Years ago, during an internal purge, Luke himself had dealt with him.
So the family I'd been investigating, the case I'd used as a stepping stone for my career—they were responsible for my grandmother's death.
And Luke, the man who'd dominated my days and nights, who'd trapped me at his side with his overwhelming presence—his family had my grandmother's blood on their hands.
How absurd. How bitterly ironic.
I'd thought I stood on the side of justice, wielding the law against darkness.
But in the end, I'd been dancing with my family's killers. Worse—I'd been helping clear their names.
The bodies at the estate, the girl in the cage, the guns at the gallery... every moment of fear and struggle now felt like a sick joke.
My supposed principles, my carefully maintained boundaries—crushed to dust by the cruel truth.
"Well? Emily?" Julie drank in my ashen face, her satisfaction practically overflowing. "Does Luke know? Of course he knows! He keeps you close because it thrills him—watching his enemy's granddaughter work for him. Gives him a real rush, doesn't it? You're just his little pet project!"
I couldn't hear her anymore. Just a high-pitched ringing filled my ears.
I clutched those flimsy pages like they were red-hot iron, burning my fingers.
I lifted my gaze through the coffee shop window toward the Victor building across the street. That towering structure now looked like a cold tombstone, silently standing there, burying my pathetic truth and laughable convictions.
Luke, Luke...
I turned the name over in my mind, feeling ice spread from my heart through my limbs.
Those charity funds he'd let me discover, the payments to victims' families—now they seemed nothing more than an executioner's hollow self-comfort.
He might pity those broken families, but he'd never truly believed himself guilty.
He wasn't someone struggling in the mud—he was the source of the darkness itself.
I crumpled the papers in my fist, turned, and walked out of the coffee shop, leaving Julie's hysterical laughter far behind.
I rushed back to the office where I'd worked for months. The bungee jumping vouchers and skydiving equipment Luke had sent still lay on my desk, mocking the brief moment I'd let myself feel something.
I walked to his office door. It was open.
He sat on the sofa with a document in hand. Sensing my presence, he looked up, those ice-blue eyes meeting mine.
"You're back?" He set the papers aside, voice low and smooth as always.
I didn't answer. I crossed the room and slammed the crumpled papers onto the coffee table in front of him.
"Luke," I heard my voice—dry, emotionless. "Is there something you want to tell me?"
His gaze dropped to the papers, then lifted to my face. Something flickered in his eyes—surprise, perhaps—but it was gone in an instant, replaced by his usual calm.
"You know." It wasn't a question.
"Yes," I laughed, but the sound was uglier than crying. "Luke, your family has my grandmother's blood on their hands."
I stared at him, searching for any trace of guilt, even feigned remorse.
There was nothing.
He watched me quietly, those ice-blue eyes deep as the ocean, absorbing all my accusations and pain without a single ripple.
His silence was crueler than any words could be.
"You knew, didn't you?" My voice shook uncontrollably, the betrayal and rage I'd been suppressing finally erupting. "You kept me close, watched me work for you like a fool, clearing your name—did it amuse you? Did you think I was just some pathetic joke?"
"I didn't." His voice was low, carrying undeniable weight.
"You didn't what?" I was nearly screaming now. "Didn't find it amusing? Or didn't think I was a joke? Luke, what the hell am I to you?!"
He stood, his tall frame instantly looming over me. I instinctively stepped back, but my back hit the bookshelf. Nowhere to go.
"Emily." He looked at me, each word deliberate and cold. "I kept you because you needed me. And now, you need me more than ever."
I almost laughed through tears. "I need you? I need my grandmother's killer?"
"The Corleone family and the Lowe Family are both looking for you," he said, ignoring my sarcasm. "If Julie could get that information, so can they. You think they'll help you get revenge? No. They'll use you against me, and the moment they're done, you'll be the first one they eliminate. Without me, you won't live to see tomorrow."
His words drained every ounce of strength from my body.