Chapter 164 Inside Job

Chapter 164 Inside Job
Cherry POV

"Cherry, what do you want to do? Tell me first, and I'll decide if I can agree to it," said Nicholas.

My heart thuds, heavy with the weight of what I've been mulling over since the moment I dragged myself out of that pool. I want to find who did this—who dared to push me, to threaten not just me but the life growing inside me. I can't ignore it, even if the truth might tear at the fragile threads holding Nicholas's family together.

His analysis rings in my ears: the culprit is likely one of his own. But I can't let that stop me. Fear of his reaction gnaws at me, yet I lift my chin, meeting his gaze. "I want to find out who pushed me, Nicholas. I know you think it's someone in your family, but I can't just pretend it didn't happen. I won't let a threat hang over us."

His shoulders ease, a breath escaping him like a weight lifted. "I thought you were gonna say you wanted to get rid of the baby."

The word 'baby' hits me like a stone, stirring a storm of emotions I've barely begun to unravel. After Kyle and Sonya's words at the training field—about love being protection—and after nearly drowning in that pool, something shifted. I used to think ending this pregnancy was the responsible choice, shielding a child from this violent, unpredictable world. But now, staring into Nicholas's eyes, I realize letting go would be the real irresponsibility.

I draw a shaky breath, my hands instinctively resting over my stomach. "I've changed my mind, Nicholas. I want to keep the baby. I'm scared, but I want this. And you'd better protect us."

His face transforms, a rare softness breaking through the hard edges. "I will. I swear on everything I am, I'll protect you both."

I nod, clinging to that promise like a lifeline, but my mind circles back to the pool accident. "Then let's find who did this. Whoever it is, they can't get away with it."

Nicholas's expression hardens, his voice dropping to a dangerous murmur. "I'm your husband, Cherry. That's my child you're carrying. Anyone who threatens you disrespects me. When you find them, do what you want with them. I've been itching to clean house in this family for a long time anyway."

His words, laced with a cold resolve, ignite a fire within me. Once we reach our room and I've changed into dry clothes, I turn to Nicholas with renewed determination. "I want to see the surveillance footage. Now."

The surveillance room hums with the quiet buzz of monitors. Kyle is already there, hunched over a console, his fingers dancing across keys. He glances up as we enter, his face grim. "I've been pulling footage, but the key time slot when you fell in has been cut. Deliberately. I'm cross-checking other cameras for suspects, but this estate's a damn maze—too many blind spots. Only five security personnel had access to the system during that window."

My blood runs cold, but I force my voice to stay steady. "Bring them to the interrogation room. Now."

Kyle nods, relaying the order through his earpiece. I turn to Nicholas, catching the glint of approval in his eyes, though his face remains unreadable. Within minutes, the five guards are lined up in a sterile, dimly lit room, their faces a mix of nerves and defiance. I step forward, my tone icy, every word measured. "Only you five had access today. If you can't prove your innocence by dawn, don't blame me for what comes next."

The first, a young guard with jittery hands, stammers out his defense. "I wasn't even in the control room, ma'am. Russell called me away for other business."

"Prove it," I snap, watching him squirm. Sweat beads on his forehead, and I can almost taste his fear of revealing something he shouldn't. Before I can press further, Russell himself strides in, his presence heavy with authority. "I've got footage," he says, handing over a tablet. "He was with me, handling family matters."

The video plays, clear as day: Russell and the young guard entering a room, not emerging until a few minutes after my fall. My eyes narrow as I spot Justine in the background of the frame, a sharp pang slicing through me. But I can't dwell on her now. I file it away, focusing on the task at hand. "Fine. You're clear for now."

The second and third guards alibi each other, claiming they were together. I fix them with a hard stare, my patience thinning. "Stand aside for now. I'm not done with you yet." They shuffle to the corner of the room, under Kyle's watchful eye, as I turn to the next guard.

The fourth, a wiry man with shifty eyes, mumbles about a stomach issue. "I was in the bathroom. On my way there, I saw Darcy—uh, she was… disheveled, being chased by some guy. I stayed in there a while to avoid the drama."

The fifth guard scoffs, cutting in before I can respond. "That's a lie. He knows how to edit footage. I saw him tinkering with the system before."

"No, I don't!" the fourth retorts, his voice rising in desperation. "I've been learning from you, haven't I? I barely know the basics!"

I pivot to the fifth, my gaze piercing. "He might not, but you do, don't you?" My mind races, piecing together the fourth's story. A man avoiding a scandal—Darcy's messy moment—wouldn't want to be seen. He'd hide out, just as he said. But this fifth guard, so quick to point fingers, reeks of deflection.

"You're covering your tracks," I say, stepping closer. "Trying to pin it on him makes you look guiltier."

His eyes dart, panic flashing, but I don't give him a chance to speak. I nod to Kyle, who moves fast, restraining the man. "Let's see how long you hold out," I mutter, my voice venomous. After a few tense minutes under pressure—nothing I'll detail, nothing I want to linger on—he cracks. "Alright, alright! I cut the footage. Someone told me to do it. But I can't say who. Kill me if you want, I won't talk."

"You won't talk?" I demand, leaning in. "What'd they give you?"

His lips seal tight, refusing to budge. I straighten, a bitter taste in my mouth. "The Salvatores don't lack loyalty, but we don't tolerate betrayal either." I turn to Kyle. "Dig into his connections. Find out who's pulling the strings."

Nicholas's arm slips around me, a silent pillar as we exit the room. I catch a glimpse of Russell slipping away, his shadow fleeting against the wall.

A thought nags at me. "Justine's miscarriage needs to be looked into soon," I murmur to Nicholas. "If she sees justice done, maybe she won't beg to join the training grounds."

He stops, turning to me, and presses a kiss to my forehead, warm against my still-cold skin. "You're always juggling a dozen thoughts, aren't you? I'll start digging. Right away."