Chapter 137
Jack's POV
I poured myself a glass of water and stood at the window, thinking about the way Diana had wavered between accepting my help and maintaining her fierce independence. How she'd tried to refuse the ride home, tried to minimize what she needed, like asking for anything was an admission of weakness.
She sued you because she thought she was protecting someone, I reminded myself. And when she found out the truth, she didn't make excuses. She just made it right.
That kind of integrity was rare. Especially in our world, where reputation was currency and admitting mistakes could cost you everything.
I finished the water and set the glass in the sink, my reflection ghostly in the dark window. My own face looked thoughtful, almost surprised.
You like her, I realized. Not just respect. Not just professional admiration. You actually like her.
The thought should've been more alarming. We barely knew each other outside of litigation and shared case work. She'd accused me of fraud just weeks ago. We were colleagues on the same case, nothing more.
But I couldn't shake the memory of catching her arms to steady her, the way she'd looked up at me with those dark eyes, slightly dazed, her guard completely down for just a moment.
After the case, I decided. When Silverpine is dismantled and Marcus Grant is behind bars and Diana gets her justice for Katya. Then I'll ask her to dinner. Somewhere nice. Not business.
I headed for my bedroom, already knowing sleep would be elusive. My mind was too busy cataloging details—the way Diana's hair had fallen across her cheek when she slept, the small smile when I'd made her laugh, the gratitude in her voice that had sounded surprised, like she wasn't used to people showing up for her.
I could show up, I thought, pulling off my tie. If she'd let me.
That was the question, wasn't it? Would Diana Clarke, fiercely independent and battle-scarred from professional betrayals, let anyone close enough to matter?
I thought about the way she'd looked back at me before entering her building. That small wave. The softness in her expression when she'd said, "For understanding."
Maybe. Maybe she would.
I set my alarm and climbed into bed, staring at the ceiling in the dark.
Getting sued might've been the best worst thing that happened this year.
The thought made me smile. What were the odds? That a false accusation would lead to an apology, which would lead to working together, which would lead to—whatever this was. This pull toward someone I barely knew but somehow wanted to know everything about.
I rolled onto my side, punching my pillow into shape.
Tomorrow I'd be professional. Keep my distance. Focus on the case and nothing else.
But after? After, all bets were off.
And for the first time since Claire's accusations had exploded my life, I found myself genuinely looking forward to what came next.
Just don't screw it up, I told myself. Don't push. Don't assume. Just… be there. Like tonight.
That felt manageable. Honest.
I closed my eyes, and the last thing I saw before sleep finally claimed me was Diana's face in that moment outside her building—surprised, grateful, maybe a little aware of the same unexpected current that had run through me when I'd caught her.
Yeah, I thought drowsily. Definitely asking her to dinner.
---
Rowan's POV
The war room had taken over my living room again by seven a.m the next morning.
I sat at one end of the dining table, laptop open to the encrypted conference call. Lena occupied the other end, her own screen glowing with the same four faces: Diana, Jack, Rachel, and Sophia. The coffee Martha had left was going cold in my cup. Lena's sat untouched entirely.
"All documentation is compiled," Diana was saying, her voice carrying that particular edge she got before major litigation. "FBI package, Interpol package, Swiss authorities—complete with translated exhibits and jurisdictional memos."
Jack pulled up a shared screen. "Financials are locked. Every transaction traced back to source accounts. We've got the full money trail from Marcus Grant's personal holdings through six shell companies to Silverpine operations in four countries."
I watched Lena's face. Perfectly composed. Not a flicker.
"Timeline correlation?" she asked.
Rachel answered. "Matched and verified. Every payment to Silverpine corresponds to a documented action—contract falsification, evidence tampering, witness intimidation. The pattern is irrefutable."
"RICO predicate acts?"
"Fourteen confirmed," Sophia said. "Wire fraud, money laundering, conspiracy to commit murder. That's before we add the human trafficking charges from the Ivanov case."
Lena made a note. Her handwriting was steady. "And the coordination protocol?"
Diana nodded. "Simultaneous submission at nine a.m. Eastern. FBI takes lead on domestic charges, Interpol coordinates international warrants, Swiss authorities freeze assets pending extradition hearings."
"Asset freeze is comprehensive?" Lena's tone never wavered. She could've been discussing a routine contract review.
"Comprehensive," Jack confirmed. "Every account we've identified. Silverpine's operational funds will be locked within hours of filing."
A pause. Then Lena's gaze shifted to me. "Reynolds Industries' exposure?"
"Contained," I said. "Our legal team has prepared statements distancing the company from any Nexus-related liabilities. The acquisition was structured specifically to limit blowback."
She studied me for a moment. Looking for what? Doubt? Hesitation?
"Then we're ready," she said. "Diana, send the packages at nine sharp. Jack, monitor for any countermoves. Rachel, Sophia—prep the media strategy in case this breaks publicly before we want it to."
"Understood," came the chorus.
The call ended. The screens went dark.
Lena closed her laptop with a soft click.
I waited.
"Today," she said quietly. Not to me. To the empty room. "It starts today."
"Yes."
She stood, gathering papers with methodical precision. "I should review the victim impact statements one more time. Make sure the language is—"
"Lena."
She paused.
"You don't have to keep working. It's done. The case is filed the moment Diana hits send."
"I know." She didn't look at me. "I just... need to stay focused."
Because stopping means thinking. Thinking means feeling.
I understood that better than I should.
---
After she'd retreated to her office, I locked myself in the guest room and spread out every piece of intelligence Jack had compiled on Marcus.
Known locations. Financial resources. Protective details. Associates.
And in a separate folder—the one I hadn't shown Lena—surveillance photos from the Zurich hotel. Marcus entering. Marcus leaving. Always with the same two bodyguards, ex-military by their bearing.
Professional protection.
Which meant he knew someone might come for him.