Chapter 287

Chapter 287
Beckett

The moment I stepped onto that stage and saw Rosalind—my fierce, beautiful, absolutely magnificent wife—standing there in that stunning gown, everything else faded into background noise.

I crossed the distance between us in three quick strides and pulled her into my arms, feeling like I could finally breathe again after months of suffocating separation. She melted against me, her hands fisting in my jacket as if she were afraid I might disappear again.

The ballroom erupted into chaos around us—camera flashes strobing like lightning, reporters shouting questions, the general cacophony of a media feeding frenzy. But all I cared about was the woman in my arms and the way she was looking at me like I'd just saved the world.


"Ladies and gentlemen," I said into the microphone, my arm still wrapped securely around Rosalind's waist, "as my wife so eloquently stated, the real criminals in this situation have been apprehended. I can assure you that very soon, their crimes—and their accomplices—will be fully exposed and brought to justice."

I let my gaze sweep across the crowd, taking particular satisfaction in watching Calloway's face when I emphasized the word "accomplices." The involuntary twitch that ran through his body, the way his face went pale, the sudden sheen of sweat on his forehead—it was like watching a man realize the gallows were being built specifically for him.

I couldn't suppress the smile that tugged at the corners of my mouth. Poor Calloway. Still thinks there might be a way out of this.

"How did you get out?" Rosalind whispered close to my ear, her voice barely audible above the shouting reporters.

"I woke up this morning and realized something important," I murmured back, pressing my lips close to her ear so only she could hear. "I'd rather be anywhere in the world with you than in the most comfortable prison cell without you. So I called in a few favors, provided some very valuable intelligence, and here I am."

She pulled back just enough to look into my eyes, and I was struck by how much she'd changed. This wasn't the shy, uncertain woman I'd married. This was someone who'd been through fire and emerged as steel—confident, commanding, absolutely fearless.

And absolutely mine.

"Mr. Montgomery! Mr. Montgomery!" A reporter from Channel 7 was pushing through the crowd, her cameraman struggling to keep up. "We're getting reports that Griffin Montgomery has confessed to conspiracy with international drug cartels! Can you confirm whether he's admitted to poisoning you and orchestrating Mrs. Montgomery's kidnapping?"

The questions were coming fast now, a dozen reporters all shouting over each other:

"Is it true about the European drug connections?"

"Did Griffin really hire mercenaries to torture your wife?"

"Were you working undercover with federal agents this entire time?"

I raised my free hand, and the room gradually quieted to a manageable buzz.

"As my wife made very clear," I said with a smile that held just a hint of warning, "tonight is not about discussing criminal activities. Tonight is about celebrating the reunion of two people who love each other very much."

"But Mr. Montgomery," the Channel 7 reporter persisted, "the public deserves to know—"

"The public," I interrupted gently, "deserves to witness something much more important than criminal confessions."

I turned to look at Rosalind, whose eyes were sparkling with a mixture of love and anticipation.

"They deserve to see a man who's been separated from his wife for far too long finally getting to kiss her the way he's been dreaming about for months."

The room exploded with excited chatter and camera flashes as I cupped Rosalind's face in my hands and kissed her with all the pent-up passion and relief of our impossible separation.

When we finally broke apart, the ballroom was in complete pandemonium—but it was the good kind, the kind that came from witnessing something genuinely romantic and triumphant.

"So it's true!" someone shouted from the crowd. "The whole feud was fake!"

"Griffin Montgomery was the real criminal all along!"

"They've been protecting each other this entire time!"

The applause started somewhere in the back and spread through the room like wildfire, hundreds of people suddenly understanding that they'd been witness to one of the greatest deceptions—and love stories—in Boston's recent memory.

But not everyone was celebrating.

"No!" Calloway's voice cut through the applause like a blade. "You're all being fooled! My father is innocent! These people are lying, manipulating you just like they manipulated everyone else!"

He was pushing through the crowd now, his face twisted with desperate fury, gesturing wildly as he tried to convince people who were no longer listening.

"Griffin Montgomery saved this woman! He risked his life to rescue her from criminals! And this is how they repay him—with lies and frame jobs and—"

"Calloway."

I spoke his name quietly, but something in my tone made the entire ballroom fall silent. I kept my arm around Rosalind but turned to face him directly, letting him see exactly what was waiting for him in my eyes.

"I believe I mentioned that all accomplices would be held accountable for their actions," I said pleasantly. "Did you think that didn't include you?"

His face went white. "I didn't do anything. I was just trying to protect my family."

"Your family?" I let out a soft laugh that held no humor whatsoever. "Or are you talking about protecting yourself, Calloway?"

I kept my voice pleasant, almost conversational, but let my eyes convey a very different message.

"I'm in an exceptionally good mood tonight," I continued, my arm tightening slightly around Rosalind's waist. "So I'm not inclined to discuss certain... details that might spoil the romantic atmosphere. But if you insist on bringing up uncomfortable topics..."

I paused, letting the implied threat hang in the air like smoke.

"Well, let's just say I'd be happy to refresh everyone's memory about recent events. In very specific detail."

Calloway's face went through several color changes as he processed what I wasn't quite saying. The fight seemed to drain out of him all at once, his shoulders sagging with the weight of guilty knowledge.

For a moment, he just stood there in the middle of the ballroom, surrounded by cameras and curious faces, opening and closing his mouth like a fish pulled from water.

"You're all insane," he finally managed, his voice cracking with a mixture of fear and desperation. "Every single one of you."

Without another word, he turned and pushed his way through the crowd toward the exit, leaving a wake of confused murmurs and speculative glances behind him.