Chapter 64 Why Did You Do That?
I knocked once and opened the door.
Zael was at his desk with his laptop open and two printed documents beside it. He looked up when I came in. His expression was entirely neutral. The composure was fully in place.
Which told me he had been expecting this.
“You retained the Edinburgh expert,” I started.
He looked at me for a moment. Then back at his screen. “Claire needed someone with specific credentials. My legal team had a contact.”
“You paid the expedite fee.”
“It was manageable.”
“You commissioned a second analysis in London.”
“As a backup. Standard practice.”
“Zael.” I closed the door behind me. “You have been running a parallel legal operation on my behalf since one PM today and you didn’t tell me.”
“I was going to tell you when there was something concrete.”
“That’s not the point.”
“It’s a practical point.”
“It’s the same point you made before.” I stepped into the room fully. “The freedom conversation. The kitchen floor. Every time you decide something about my situation without asking me first and then justify it as protection.” I held his gaze. “I told you not to do that.”
He closed his laptop.
Looked at me directly.
“What would you have done differently?” he asked.
“That’s not the question.”
“It’s a relevant question. If I had told you this morning you would have said you had it handled. You would have waited for Claire’s timeline. And you would have spent a week with Gerald’s lawyers holding a document that could unravel everything while a qualified expert worked through a standard schedule.” He held my gaze. “My team moved it to three days. That’s four days you don’t spend exposed.”
“I didn’t ask you to do that.”
“I know you didn’t.”
“So why did you?”
He stood up.
Moved to the window.
Stood with his back to me looking at the city below with his hands in his pockets and the stillness of a man who was managing something that wanted to move faster than he was ready for.
“Zael.”
“Because it needed doing,” he said. “And I could do it. And waiting for you to ask felt like watching someone carry something heavy when I was standing right there.”
“I’m not fragile,” I said.
“I know you’re not fragile.” He turned. “That’s not why I did it.”
“Then why?”
He looked at me.
Something in his expression shifted. The composure didn’t break exactly… it receded. Pulled back enough that the thing underneath it had room.
“Because Gerald has been taking things from you since before you knew how to fight back,” he said.
“Your father. Your inheritance. Your mother. Your sense of safety in your own home.” His voice was even but the evenness was costing him something. “He planted a forgery in your father’s company. Something designed to look like your own hand on paper. Something that takes your name and turns it into a weapon against you.” He held my gaze.
“I didn’t ask. You’re right. But I’m not going to apologize for moving fast when someone is trying to take something that belongs to you.”
“It’s my fight,” I said.
“I know it’s your fight.” He stepped away from the window. “I’m not fighting it for you. I’m fighting it beside you. There’s a difference.” He stopped two feet from me. “You’ve been doing this alone since you were twelve years old. You don’t have to anymore.”
Silence stretched.
I looked at him.
This man who had walls around everything and had been systematically removing them one by one since a night on a kitchen floor without being asked and without making it a performance.
“You could have told me,” I said. “We could have decided together.”
“Yes.” He held my gaze. “You’re right. I should have.” A beat. “I’m working on the instinct to act first and explain later. It’s slower to change than I expected.”
“I know,” I said. “I’m working on the instinct to assume everyone acting without asking is Gerald. That’s also slower to change.”
He looked at me for a moment.
“Fair,” he said.
“So we’re both a work in progress.”
“Apparently.”
I crossed my arms. “The Edinburgh expert. Three days.”
“He nodded.”
“And the London backup.”
“Analysis arrives the day before the Edinburgh one. So if there’s any discrepancy we have time to address it before filing.”
I looked at him. “That’s actually smart.”
“I have moments.”
“Don’t push it.”
He almost smiled.
I turned toward the door.
“Seraphine.”
I stopped.
“The document Gerald forged,” he continued. “The inheritance rights transfer.” His voice had changed… not the almost-smile energy, something underneath it.
I turned back.
He was looking at the desk. Not at me. At the printed documents beside his closed laptop.
“He forged your name on a transfer of rights to your father’s estate,” he said slowly. “Everything David Callum built. Everything he left you. Gerald tried to take it with your own name.” He looked up. “That’s not just fraud. That’s…” He stopped.
“What?” I said quietly.
He looked at me with the open expression that appeared so rarely and landed so differently every time.
“That’s the last thing,” he said. “If this document stood… if his lawyers used it and it held, there would be nothing left of David in your name. Nothing with your signature on it that wasn’t poisoned by his.” His voice was quiet and entirely direct. “I couldn’t let that happen. I’m not going to apologize for that part.”
Neither of us spoke for a moment.
I looked at him.
“Zael…”
“I know.” He turned back to his desk. “Go eat something. Margaux made food that’s getting cold.”
I didn’t move for a moment.
“You were going to say something else,” I said. “In the car this morning. When I was talking about Gerald’s contingency plans.” I held his gaze. “You started to say something and stopped.”
He looked at me.
“Because it’s yours Seraphine.” His voice was low. “It was always yours. And I…” He stopped.
Completely.
The sentence hung in the air between us unfinished.
His jaw tightened slightly.
I waited.
He looked at the window.
Then back at me.
Still said nothing.