Chapter 133

Chapter 133
Edward POV

I left the detention center with Anna's image burned into my mind—those exhausted eyes, the way her shoulders had finally relaxed when I held her.

Sliding into the back seat of my waiting car, I felt it immediately—the ghost of her warmth still clinging to my shirt where she'd rested her head against my chest. My arms felt empty without her weight, and for a moment, I was seized by an almost violent urge to turn the car around, to go back and somehow pull her out of that place by sheer force of will.

I wanted to keep holding her. Just hold her and not let go.

But there were things that needed to be done first. People who needed to answer for what they'd done to her.

"Back to the office, sir?" Jenkins asked.

I stared out the window as Manhattan slid past in the late afternoon light. Early summer had arrived in full force—trees along Park Avenue exploded in rich green, couples strolling hand-in-hand, sidewalk cafés filled with people tilting their faces toward the warmth. The golden light painted everything beautiful, alive.

Anna should be out here, not locked behind bars because of someone else's malice.

My jaw tightened. George Wilson had confessed that Vera orchestrated everything—the attack, the plan to harvest Anna's bone marrow, all of it. But the more I thought about it, the less I believed Vera had acted alone.

Richard Parker had to know. Maybe he hadn't hired George himself, maybe he hadn't given explicit orders—but he knew. He had to. Because every bit of power Vera wielded, every resource she could deploy, every connection she could leverage—it all came from the Parker family. From him.

She was his weapon. And he'd let her use it against his own daughter.

"Change of plans," I said abruptly. "Get James on the line."

My assistant answered on the first ring. "Sir?"

"Contact Richard Parker. Tell him I need to meet with him tonight. Somewhere private. Make it clear this isn't negotiable."

"Okay."

I hung up and went back to staring out the window, my mind already working through the conversation to come. Richard was a businessman—ruthless, calculating, always looking for the angle. He'd sacrificed Anna once to save his company. The question was whether he'd do it again.

And if he chose wrong, I'd make sure he lost everything anyway.

---

By the time I arrived at Vérité, the sky had deepened to indigo, the city's lights beginning to sparkle against the gathering darkness. The coffee shop's warm glow spilled onto the sidewalk, and through the window I could see couples sharing desserts, friends laughing over cappuccinos—normal people living normal lives.

I selected the corner table farthest from the windows, my back to the wall. Old habit. The ambient jazz playing was something slow and mournful, saxophone notes hanging in the air like smoke.

Richard arrived at seven sharp. But I noticed immediately that something was off—his usual confident stride was slightly hurried, his expression pleasant but neutral. No concern. No worry.

"Edward," he said, extending his hand as he approached. "Quite mysterious, this evening summons. What's the matter?"

I didn't take his hand. Instead, I gestured to the seat across from me.

"Sit down, Richard. We need to talk about Anna."

He settled into the chair with the practiced ease of a man who'd spent decades in boardrooms. "Anna? What about her?" A slight frown. "I thought you two were... no longer in contact."

So he really didn't know. Interesting.

"Anna's in jail, Richard." I watched his face carefully. "She's been locked for the past two days."

His expression shifted—first confusion, then shock. Real shock, unless he was a better actor than I'd given him credit for.

"Jail? What are you talking about? What happened?"

I leaned back in my chair, studying him. "George Wilson attacked her. Broke into her apartment with a knife, tried to kill her. She fought back, stabbed him in self-defense. Now she's locked up while they sort out the charges."

Richard's face had gone pale. "George... but how did he—" He stopped himself, and I saw the moment the implications hit him. His hands, resting on the table, tightened into fists.

"George is alive," I continued, my voice level. "Awake, actually. And very talkative." I paused, watching Richard's Adam's apple bob as he swallowed. "He told me everything, Richard. How Vera hired him. How she orchestrated the whole thing—the attack, the plan to keep Anna barely alive long enough to harvest her bone marrow for Irene. All of it."

Richard's mouth opened, then closed. His usual composure was cracking at the edges.

"I asked you here tonight because I want to know what you think about that," I said quietly.

He started to speak—"Edward, I—"

"Before you answer," I interrupted, my voice dropping lower, harder, "I want you to think very carefully. Because I'm only going to say this once." I leaned forward, holding his gaze. "Whoever hurt Anna will pay for it. Completely. Without exception. Do you understand me?"

The silence stretched between us. I could see the wheels turning behind Richard's eyes, the calculations, the weighing of options. Finally, he spoke.

"It was Vera's idea," he said, his voice hoarse. "But I don't think... I believe she only intended to pressure Anna into donating the bone marrow. That's all. She wouldn't have actually—"

"You're giving your daughter too much credit," I cut him off. The disgust in my voice was real. "If all she wanted was a kidney donation, Richard, she could have hired anyone. A lawyer, a private investigator, even just paid someone to talk to Anna. But she hired George Wilson." I let that sink in. "A man who nearly sexually assaulted Anna when she was sixteen. A man Anna is terrified of. A man who tried to rape her."

Richard flinched.

"Vera didn't want compliance," I continued relentlessly. "She wanted Anna dead. She just wanted to use her body first."

Richard's face had gone from pale to gray. He opened his mouth but no words came out.

I stood slowly, buttoning my jacket with deliberate precision. Looking down at him, I felt nothing but cold contempt.

"Listen to me very carefully, Richard. You and Vera—I'm going to destroy one of you. That's not a threat, it's a fact. The only question is which one." I paused. "So you need to choose. Right now. Do you protect Vera, or do you protect your company?"

He stared up at me, his breathing shallow. I could see the conflict playing out across his face—paternal loyalty warring with decades of ambition, the daughter he'd raised against the empire he'd built.

"My company," he finally whispered, "is my life's work."

"Good." I allowed myself a small, cold smile. "That's all I need to know."

I turned to leave, then stopped and looked back over my shoulder.

"One more thing, Richard. If a single word of this conversation leaks—if I find out you warned Vera, if you try to help her run, if you do anything except stay out of my way—I'll destroy both your company and Vera. She'll spend the rest of her life in prison, and you'll spend yours watching everything you built crumble to dust." I held his gaze. "Are we clear?"

He nodded once, a jerky, defeated motion.

"I'm glad we understand each other."

I walked out of the café into the warm summer night, leaving Richard Parker sitting alone with his choice—and his guilt.

The street was alive with evening energy—people laughing, music drifting from open restaurant doors, the city humming with possibility. Somewhere in this same city, Anna was locked in a cell, but not for much longer.

I pulled out my phone as I reached my car.

"James, get the legal team moving on Anna's bail. I want her out tomorrow morning at the latest." I paused. "And draw up the papers for Vera Parker's arrest. Conspiracy to commit murder, attempted murder, everything you can make stick. I want them ready to file the moment Anna walks free."

"Yes, sir. And... Mr. Parker?"

"Richard Parker is no longer a concern," I said flatly. "He's made his position clear."

I ended the call and slid into the back seat, finally allowing myself to feel the exhaustion that had been building all day. But beneath it was something stronger—a grim, dark satisfaction.

Soon, Anna. Soon you'll be free, and everyone who hurt you will pay.