Chapter 44 The Price of Justice
The FBI came to the mansion on Wednesday morning.
Ariella was making coffee when the doorbell rang. Aiden answered it to find two agents in dark suits, badges out, expressions professionally neutral.
“Aiden Frost? We need to speak with you about James Winters.”
They spent six hours in Richard’s study; now Aiden’s going through every document, every email, and every piece of evidence Richard had compiled over the past six years. The agents took notes, asked pointed questions, and treated them like witnesses instead of victims.
“This is substantial,” the lead agent admitted. “But it’s also circumstantial. Financial records prove embezzlement, but murder? That’s harder. The drunk drivers are dead. The witnesses are scared. Winters is smart, he kept his hands clean.”
“So he gets away with it?” Ariella’s voice cracked.
“I didn’t say that. But building a murder case takes time. The embezzlement charges we can file immediately. The rest we need more.”
“How much more?”
“Someone who’ll testify. Someone who was there. Someone willing to risk everything to tell the truth.”
After they left, Aiden punched the wall hard enough to split his knuckles.
“Six years,” he said, voice shaking. “My father spent six years collecting evidence and it’s not enough. She died for nothing.”
“It’s nothing. We have the embezzlement charges. That’s something.”
“It’s not justice. It’s not…” He slumped against the desk. “I don’t know how to do this. How to fight someone who’s always three steps ahead.”
Ariella bandaged his hand, her touch gentle. “We find the witnesses, the scared ones, and convince them they’re safer testifying than staying silent.”
“And if we can’t?”
“Then we try anyway.”
That night, Marcus arrived with news.
“One of the private investigators your father hired is willing to testify. Says he has recordings. Phone calls between Winters and the men who killed Catherine. It’s inadmissible in court, but it might be enough to pressure other witnesses to come forward.”
“Why now?” Aiden asked. “Why didn’t he come forward before?”
“Because Richard paid him to stay quiet. To gather evidence but not go public. He was following orders.” Marcus paused. “But Richard’s dead now. And the investigator, his daughter just got diagnosed with leukemia. He needs money for treatment. He’s willing to trade testimony for immunity and a financial settlement.”
“So we pay him.” Aiden stood. “Whatever he needs.”
“It’s not that simple. If we pay him, his testimony looks bought. Winters’ lawyers will shred him.”
“Then what do we do?”
“We let the FBI handle it. They can offer him witness protection, relocation funds, and medical assistance through legitimate channels. It’ll take time but it’s clean.”
Time. Always time. While Winters walked free, they lived in constant threat.
Lily appeared in the doorway. “Someone’s at the gate. They won’t leave.”
The security feed showed a woman in her fifties, standing in the rain, holding a sign that read: WINTERS KILLED MY SON.
Aiden ran downstairs.
The woman’s name was Patricia Moreno. Her son had been a Frost Industries accountant who’d questioned financial irregularities three years ago. He’d died in a house fire ruled accidental.
“It wasn’t an accident,” Patricia said, soaked through, shaking. “My son called me the night before. Said he’d found something big. Said he was going to the FBI. Then his house burned and they said it was faulty wiring but he was careful, he always checked, it wasn’t…”
“Come inside,” Ariella said gently. “Please.”
They brought her to the study. Gave her coffee and dry clothes and listened while she told them everything.
“I can’t prove it,” Patricia said finally. “I have no evidence. Just a mother’s certainty that her son was murdered. But I saw your press conference. Heard what you said about justice. And I thought maybe together we’re stronger than alone.”
“We are,” Aiden said. “And I promise we’ll make Winters pay for what he did to your son.”
“You can’t promise that.”
“No. But I can promise we’ll try.”
Patricia left them her contact information, her son’s files, and her desperate hope that someone would finally listen.
After she left, Ariella and Aiden sat in the dark study, surrounded by evidence of atrocities they couldn’t quite prove.
“There are more,” Ariella said quietly. “More victims. More families destroyed. We just have to find them.”
“And then what? Build a case witness by witness? Wait years while Winters’ lawyers drag this out?”
“Yes. If that’s what it takes.”
“I don’t know if I have years, Ariella. I’m so tired of fighting.”
She took his face in her hands. “Then rest. Take a day. A week. However long you need. But don’t give up. Not when we’re this close.”
“We’re not close. We’re drowning.”
“Then we drown together.”
He kissed her desperately. “I don’t deserve you.”
“Good thing I’m not here because you deserve me. I’m here because I chose you.”
His phone buzzed. Marcus.
Three more potential witnesses came forward today. All Frost Industries employees. All with stories about questioning Winters and facing consequences. The FBI wants to interview them tomorrow.
Aiden showed Ariella the message.
“It’s happening,” she whispered. “People are finding their courage.”
“Because we found ours first.”
“So we keep going?”
“We keep going.”
They spent the rest of the night documenting everything, Patricia’s story, the new witnesses, the growing case against a man who’d thought himself untouchable.
And somewhere in Portland, James Winters received word that his empire was crumbling witness by witness.
The war wasn’t over.
But for the first time, they were winning.