Chapter 195

Chapter 195
Morgan's POV

I stood outside the auction house, the crisp Los Angeles evening air barely registering against my skin. I'd just won my mother's necklace for 2.2 billion dollars. The amount still didn't feel real, even to someone who'd recently come into billions. But the victory did.

"You can pick up the necklace once the bank processes the transaction," Liam explained, his voice cutting through my thoughts. "But we already have the documentation from the Montgomery family proving authentic ownership. That's what matters."

I nodded, clutching the folder containing the papers that would be Olivia's undoing. With these documents, I could prove the Montgomerys had forged papers and lied about the necklace's provenance. The evidence would be enough to send Olivia to prison. A first step in my revenge.

"I still can't believe Catherine showed up," I said, more to myself than to Liam. "And Jonathan... you said he was helping me all along?"

Liam nodded, his eyes soft in a way that made me uncomfortable. "Dad's been trying to make amends, Morgan. He always wanted to reach out, but he wasn't sure you'd accept it."

I looked away. The word "Dad" felt foreign, almost wrong. For so long, I'd thought of the Montgomerys as the people who'd stolen me from my real family. Now, learning that my biological father had been helping me from afar made everything more complicated.

"Thank you," I said stiffly, unable to meet Liam's eyes. "For your help today."

The words felt inadequate. I'd been nothing but cold and dismissive to him since my return to LA, yet he'd shown up without hesitation when I needed him. A strange feeling twisted in my stomach—something like guilt, or maybe shame. I wasn't used to being treated with kindness without ulterior motives.

Liam's phone rang. He glanced at it and silenced it without answering.

"It was nothing," he said with a smile that reminded me so much of the pictures I'd seen of my mother that it hurt. "That's what family does."

Family. The word was a trigger, bringing flashes of the Montgomerys, of Alexander, of all the people who'd claimed to be family while using me as a medical resource. I swallowed hard.

A part of me, the part that had survived prison and worse, whispered that it was safer to keep my distance. To use him for my revenge and not let myself care. Caring only led to pain. I'd learned that lesson the hard way.

"Well, I should go," I said, taking a step back.

Liam's phone rang again. He silenced it with a frown.

"I could take you to dinner," I blurted out, surprising myself. "To say thanks properly."

What am I doing? I wasn't supposed to be building relationships. Relationships were vulnerabilities, and I couldn't afford those right now.

"I'd love that," Liam said, brightening. "I'll drive you home and arrange somewhere for tonight. You can rest for a few hours after today's battle. Any preferences?"

I used to be a foodie, before. Before prison, before losing my baby, before my life became a living hell. Food had been just sustenance since then, nothing more.

"How about some sweet and spicy BBQ ribs, with a bottle of craft IPA?" Liam suggested.

I swallowed involuntarily, my mouth watering. Then confusion hit me.

"How did you know?" I asked, narrowing my eyes. "That's my favorite Sunday meal. There's no way you could know that."

Liam smiled softly. "It was Mom's favorite Sunday dinner too. Every week, without fail. I remember how she'd hum while preparing the marinade."

For a split second, I let myself imagine a different life. One where I abandoned my revenge plans, embraced my biological family, tried to live normally. The fantasy was so vivid it hurt.

Stop it. You're beyond redemption, Morgan. You've made your choice.

"That sounds perfect," I said, my voice unexpectedly hoarse.

I returned to my new house—a more secure location I'd purchased. The house had top-notch security with cameras everywhere, sensors that could tell when someone stepped on the lawn, and windows that couldn't be broken by bullets. Two security checkpoints stood between the street and my front door, with guards walking around day and night. Too much? Maybe. But after years of feeling trapped—first in the Montgomery house, then in a real prison—I promised myself I'd never feel helpless again. Money might not buy happiness, but it definitely bought safety.

The memory of my father and brother's care lingered, making my heart beat faster even as I tried to dismiss it.

I worried about Alexander, too, despite telling myself I didn't care. That I couldn't care. Ethan wasn't back yet, and I found myself pacing the living room, unable to settle.

I have Ethan now. I don't need Alexander. I don't care about him. But my heart wouldn't stop racing.

When Ethan finally returned, I had composed myself enough to sit calmly on the couch.

"So, did you get it?" he asked, eyes gleaming with anticipation.

"The documents are on the table," I said. "If you can crack them in three days, we can send Olivia to prison for three to five years."

Ethan bowed playfully. "As you command, princess."

I scowled. I usually didn't mind his teasing, but today it grated. He always wore that mask of sarcastic detachment, never showing genuine emotion. Today, more than ever, I wanted to see warmth in someone's eyes. Real warmth, not the calculated kind.

"Hey, I have some news that might cheer you up," Ethan said, waving his tablet. "Look."

The screen showed Alexander's company stock in freefall.

"You targeted Alexander's company?" I asked, my voice hollow.

Ethan looked confused. "You don't seem happy. I thought you said you didn't care about him anymore?"

I didn't. I shouldn't. But Ethan's manipulation bothered me. He was using my pain against Alexander, just as Alexander and the Montgomerys had used me. I'd been stupid to think Ethan's warmth was genuine.

"Take off your mask," I demanded, expecting him to refuse as he always did.

To my surprise, he reached up and removed it.

He stood before me, his familiar face sending shock waves through my system.

"James?" I whispered, stunned beyond words.