Chapter 140

Chapter 140
ARTHUR'S POV

The number sat on my phone screen, unblinking, foreign but not unfamiliar. It wasn’t saved in my contacts—of course it wouldn’t be—but something in my gut told me I already knew who it was. I just stared at it for a long moment, my thumb hovering, my mind piecing fragments together. A strange number at this hour, right after everything that’s been unfolding, after the discovery of my father’s documents, after Jordan’s incident… it wasn’t random. No, this had the stink of intention.

Victor Cain.

The name slid into my thoughts before I even realized I had accepted it. The man was everywhere lately—like a shadow crawling under the doors of this house, slipping into places he didn’t belong. He had a way of inserting himself, forcing his presence to be felt even when unseen. And here he was now, on the other end of my phone, waiting.

I clenched my jaw, weighing it for a second longer, letting the silence stretch. Then, deliberately, I swiped and lifted the phone to my ear.

“Arthur King,” came the voice. Low, smooth, and carrying that venomous sort of ease only men like Victor possessed. It was menacing, yes, but not in a loud way. His menace was quiet, calculated—like someone who’d spent years perfecting the art of intimidation.

For a moment, I didn’t say anything. I let him fill the air.

“I trust this isn’t a bad time?” Victor continued, his tone soaked in mockery. “I hear things have been… unsettled in your household lately. Accidents. Unfortunate events. I do hope your family is holding up.”

I leaned back in my chair, eyes narrowing at nothing in particular, because I knew better than to give him the satisfaction of reacting. If he thought he could unnerve me by dangling half-truths and veiled threats, he was wrong. I’d spent too long under the weight of my father’s heavy hand to flinch at words now.

“You called me for a reason, Victor,” I said finally, my tone even, steady. “Why don’t you get to it instead of circling around?”

There was a pause, then a chuckle that grated against my ear. “Straightforward. I always did expect that from Elias’ son. He raised you sharper than the rest, didn’t he? Good. That will make what comes next more interesting.”

I tightened my grip on the phone, though outwardly my voice didn’t waver. “If you think dragging my father into this gives you leverage, you’re mistaken. He’s not here. And I’m not him.”

Victor hummed, amused. “Ah, but blood runs deep, doesn’t it? He may be gone, but his sins, his debts, they don’t just vanish. You’re carrying them now, Arthur. Whether you like it or not.”

I let him talk. Let him wind himself up with all his rehearsed menace. Inside, though, my thoughts were already turning over the bundle of files locked in my desk drawer—the neat stack of my father’s dealings, the rotten truth of Victor Cain’s corruption inked into contracts and numbers that couldn’t be denied. I had it all. Every weakness, every illegal tie, every false front. The sword my father promised me was real, and it was already in my hands.

So I listened, calm, while Victor’s threats piled higher.

“I’ll say this plainly,” he finished, his tone finally sharpening. “Hand over what belongs to me. You know exactly what I’m talking about. Do that, and your family walks free of me. Refuse, and I won’t be so gentle next time.”

I almost laughed at the word gentle. My mind flicked back to Jordan lying unconscious, Stella breaking down in tears, Naya’s face pale with fear. Victor had already crossed lines. There was no gentleness in him, only the illusion of control he believed he held.

I drew in a breath, steadying myself. “Victor,” I said, his name deliberate on my tongue, “if you think you’re the one holding the cards, you’re already mistaken. You’re not the only one with history. And you’re certainly not the only one with power.”

He went silent at that, just for a second. Enough for me to know I’d struck somewhere close.

I leaned forward, resting my elbow on the desk, my voice dropping lower. “So throw your threats around if it makes you feel bigger. I’ll listen. But know this—I don’t scare easy. And the next time you call me, you might want to reconsider how much you reveal. Because I promise you, Victor, when I decide to move, you won’t see it coming.”
Victor’s voice still echoed in my ears by the time the line went dead. The man had a way of sinking his words into you, the tone curling with menace, every syllable sharpened like a blade meant to nick your composure. At the last second, he’d thrown in his invitation—or his demand, really—to meet him in some secluded place downtown.

I sat there for a moment, staring at the phone in my hand, feeling the weight of it grow heavier the longer I held on. Then, despite myself, I let out a faint smile. It wasn’t joy—not even close—but a grim satisfaction. Victor thought he was pulling me into his world, luring me into some dark corner where he held the advantage. What he didn’t know was that I wasn’t the same man he remembered. I had something on him. Enough to break him, maybe even end him.

But the smile didn’t last.

I set the phone down on the desk and leaned back in the chair, my gaze shifting to the papers scattered across the surface. My chest tightened with the same frustration that had been gnawing at me for days. The documents—the rest of the estate records my father had left—were missing. I’d turned this study upside down searching for them, rifled through drawers, shelves, even the safe, but nothing. Gone.

For all my preparation, I was holding only half a sword. Without those papers, the blade wasn’t sharp enough to cut Victor down cleanly. If they’d been destroyed, if they’d slipped through my fingers somehow, then I was heading into tonight’s meeting with a shield that might not hold.

I pressed the heel of my palm against my brow, exhaling slowly. The temptation to cancel, to stall, flickered through my mind. But men like Victor Cain didn’t wait. They hunted you down if you didn’t come willingly. If I didn’t face him tonight, he’d find another way to corner me. At least this way, I could choose the ground.

I glanced again at the phone, the last trace of the call still ghosting through me. He had no idea how close I already was to toppling him, no idea that his threats weren’t cutting the way he intended. Still, going in without the rest of the documents felt like walking into fire with water only half-filled in the bucket.

My jaw tightened. One thing was certain—I couldn’t let Naya be blindsided. I couldn’t just disappear into the night without telling her where I was going. The thought of her reaction tightened something in my chest. She’d worry, she’d ask me to reconsider, maybe even beg me not to go. And yet… I needed her to know. I needed to share it, even if it weighed on her too.

I pushed the chair back and stood, the faint scrape of wood on the floor breaking the heavy silence. For a moment, I lingered at the door, hand braced against the frame, staring out into the hallway. Upstairs, I knew she’d be with Elijah, with Aunt Nina. The thought steadied me more than I expected.

Victor thought tonight would be his game. He didn’t know I was already playing mine.

I straightened, pulled the door open , and stepped out, ready to find Naya and tell her the truth.