Chapter One Hundred and Seventeen

Chapter One Hundred and Seventeen

Hermione

"You're oddly good at lying. Should I be worried?" Aiden teases as we settle into the car after the meeting with Becca. Kash is already at the wheel, navigating us toward home.
"You should be commending me. I saved your ass in there," I reply, cutting him a side-eye. "Besides, 'masterful story-weaver' sounds much better than 'liar.' It’s just selective truths, remember?"
"My dear, you are brilliant!" Aiden praises, planting a loud, smacking kiss on my cheek.
"Just make sure that girl gets locked up—either in jail or an asylum. She tried to murder me and she tried to ruin you. She’s a thorn that needs to be pulled out by the roots."
"You bet," Aiden says, leaning back into his seat. "I suspect Lachlan might be involved with her."
I shift to face him. "You think so?"
"Who benefits most if my reputation is trashed right now? And why did she wait so long after her release on bail to leak this incriminating information about me?"
"You're right," I nod. "Annabelle wants me dead for two reasons: to punish you, and to punish me for whatever I supposedly did wrong at our last meeting. She must have colluded with Lachlan; he needs you out of the way to disqualify you from succeeding as the head of MD Group."
"All I need now is evidence."
I blink. "It’ll turn up."
"Not if they’ve been thorough. Besides, I have a feeling Lachlan isn't directly involved. The waitress confessed she took orders from a man, but she has prosopagnosia—she can't recognize faces well. Even so, when I showed her a picture of Lachlan, she said the man looked nothing like him."
"Then how do you find him if she can't identify him?"
"Annabelle will lead us to him. She loves money. If she agreed to work with Lachlan, or whoever he’s using as a front, they must have offered her a massive payout to get her on board."
"For now, let's just celebrate clearing your name," I say.
"Nothing is official yet."
"Trust me, with the story I spun in there, the plot is foolproof. You’ll be inaugurated as CEO by dawn; nothing is getting in the way of that—not a delusional Annabelle or Lachlan. To hell with the haters!"
Aiden chuckles. "To hell with the haters!" he booms, throwing his hand toward the roof of the car with dramatic flair.
My eyes dart to the rearview mirror, meeting Kash’s amused gaze.
"We haven't lost our minds. Fear not," I say quickly, holding up a hand in a mock-serious gesture.
Aiden bursts into laughter at that, burying his face in the crook of my neck. His body shakes against mine as he wraps an arm around me. "Fear not!" he repeats, his laughter contagious.
"Stop it!" I squeal, my own stomach trembling with giggles.
Kash grins, glancing at us through the mirror before returning his focus to the road. I catch the slight, knowing tilt of his head.
Right. Aiden and I are being completely ridiculous.
"Aiden!" I yelp as he starts to tickle me, coaxing even more laughter from my lungs.
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Lachlan

I sit at my desk with my legs crossed over the table, staring at the panoramic view of the skyline. Outside, the city lights flicker against a backdrop of towering steel and glass.
My office is on one of the top floors, so there isn't much to see beyond the architectural silhouettes of the commercial district and the vast, dark sky.
Smoke billows around my face as I exhale. I drag in another lungful, pinching the cigar between my thumb and finger before closing my lips around it.
The office has been quiet lately, despite the chaos unfolding in the world outside. Dawn left me after I lost my temper with her—not that her absence bothers me. I could fill her position in the blink of an eye, provided her replacement actually did something other than sit and waste time at the station.
I’m certain this drought of work is by my father’s order. Nothing crosses this desk anymore now that Aiden has been handed the helm. I am technically his superior, yet I am not regarded as such—not by him, and certainly not by anyone else here.
Though it is well past working hours, I deliberately stay behind. I’m not as enthusiastic about heading home as I was when I was still the "golden son." I can’t stand my father’s silent treatment. Usually, I only clock off when I’m certain he has gone to bed, allowing me to sneak into my room unnoticed.
In hindsight, Aiden was wiser than I gave him credit for. I hate to admit it, but despite his extravagant lifestyle, he had been saving on the side to ensure his independence. My belief that I would inherit everything upon the old man's death kept me tethered. I never felt encouraged to work beyond the established blueprint; I committed everything to the company and to maintaining my status as the golden son just to claim my eventual inheritance.
But it has all been in vain. My father isn't even waiting for death to knock before inaugurating his next heir—a massive slight to my face.
Lost in reflection, I don’t hear my phone until the second ring. I lean forward, picking it up from the edge of the desk and glancing at the screen. My brows knit into a frown at the unknown number, but I answer it anyway.
"Lachlan," my mother’s voice comes through the speaker, breezy with a sense of contained excitement.
My body goes rigid at the sound. I sit up at once. "Mom!"
"How have you been, son?"
"I'm fine. How are you faring in there?" I ask, my chest tightening at the thought of the treatment she might be enduring in prison.
"I’ve been getting through each day. I will survive. I missed you so much."
"Me too, Mom." It feels like an eternity since I last heard her voice. I haven't visited her, paralyzed by the shame of seeing my mother behind bars. I am as angry as I am embarrassed by the situation. The world knows she was arrested for murder; how am I supposed to live with that? Even if I were named the heir, her circumstances would surely discredit me. No one wants the son of a murderer as their superior.
Still, I can’t hate her. Every terrible thing she did was on my behalf—to ensure my position remained unchallenged. Yet, that bastard Aiden has rendered all her efforts pointless.
"I watched the news," she says. "I would have called the moment I heard what Alvin did, but I wasn't granted phone privileges until now. Is it true? Everything they reported?"
"It’s true," I confirm, my voice flat. "Dad chose Aiden as his heir."
Silence follows from my mother’s end of the line. I imagine her trying to muffle a curse, her rage simmering as she realizes my father has completely veered from her original plan.
"Aiden has been discredited, though," she says eventually. "I heard rumors that he was caught in a infidelity scandal."
"No. He cleared the air with his wife, Hermione," I counter. "Even though the story they spun was far from the truth, they wove it together with enough believability to sway the public."
"That girl played along? I thought she hated him."
"Not anymore." Not with everything Aiden has achieved lately. He’s acquired more than enough power and prestige to impress someone like her.
And that interview? They claimed they had been dating sporadically for two years, but that Aiden hadn’t been 'worthy' of her affection until he finally carved out a legacy for himself—one that went beyond just being the son of a wealthy family.
The girl is certainly one-of-a-kind.
I find myself wondering if Dad had secretly been rooting for Aiden all along. After all, he loved Aiden’s mother—his mistress—so deeply that reports of her demise wrecked him, turning him into the aloof, cold individual he is today.
"Were you the one behind the rumors?" Mom inquires.
My eyebrows twitch. "I wish I were." But what would have been the point?
The scandal vanished as quickly as it had emerged. Those two are a formidable pair, fueled by their combined wits and collaboration. Taking Aiden down will not be easy—not while he has Hermione standing firmly by his side.