Chapter 138 Unspoken Questions
Briar's POV
My mind immediately conjured Lucian's face. "I see," I managed, my voice steady despite the chaos in my chest.
Oscar's amber eyes studied me with unsettling precision. He reached across the table and gently pushed the paper flower closer to me.
"I heard you have evidence," he said quietly. "Evidence of Sterling Pharmaceuticals' money laundering operations."
The temperature in the room seemed to drop ten degrees. My business instincts kicked in hard and fast, sweeping away the emotional turbulence.
"Is that why you invested in Vance Botanicals?" I asked, meeting his gaze directly. "Not because you believed in our expansion strategy, but because you wanted access to whatever leverage I might have against the Sterling family?"
Oscar didn't flinch. If anything, approval flickered across his refined features.
I leaned forward slightly. "You want to use me as a weapon, Mr. Castellan. You want me to help you destroy the Sterling family's influence, clear the obstacles from Liam's political path, and consolidate your family's position in Seattle."
The words hung between us like an accusation. I watched Oscar's face carefully, but no denial came.
"You're sharper than I expected," he said finally, genuine respect in his tone.
"Most people haven't been used as pawns before," I replied coldly. "I recognize the game when I see it being set up."
Oscar was quiet for a moment. When he spoke again, his voice carried something almost gentle. "You have a particular kind of hardness in your eyes, Miss Vance. The kind that only comes from surviving betrayal."
I stood abruptly, the chair scraping harshly against the floor.
"No one uses me as a tool," I said, my voice low and fierce. "Not anymore, Mr. Castellan. Not ever again."
I turned toward the door, but Oscar's next words stopped me.
"What if we traveled together instead?" he asked, his tone shifting to something more pragmatic. "Not as user and tool, but as allies with aligned interests. You take what you need from this arrangement, and I take what I need."
I turned back slowly. The proposal hung in the air between us, tempting and dangerous. Accepting Oscar's alliance would mean actively working against the Sterling family, against Lucian's family.
The memory of Julian's violence flashed through my mind, the bruises he'd left on my skin. Then I thought of Dominic Sterling's cold manipulation. The Sterling family had caused me nothing but pain, had trapped Lucian in obligations he never wanted, had created the circumstances that tore us apart.
I walked back to the table with measured steps. I reached out and picked up the paper flower, holding it carefully in my palm.
"Aligned interests," I repeated slowly. "Each taking what we need."
"Exactly."
I closed my fingers around the paper flower. This small, fragile thing represented a choice—reason over emotion, strategy over sentiment.
"Alright, Mr. Castellan," I said quietly. "We have an alliance."
Three weeks passed in a blur of work and strategic planning. By late December, I finally found time to visit Ash at Full Moon Emergency Center. The moment I stepped into his room, his face lit up with pure joy.
"Briar! Watch this!" He gripped the parallel bars while a nurse stood ready, then took three careful steps forward. Each movement was clearly painful but the pride radiating from him was infectious.
"That's incredible, Ash," I said warmly. "You're making such good progress."
Watching his optimism, his refusal to let his injury define him, I felt something loosen in my chest. Ash's resilience reminded me there were still good things worth protecting, still reasons to fight beyond revenge.
Three days later, after getting Dr. Chen's approval, I arranged for Ash to attend Vance Botanicals' year-end party. The moment his wheelchair came through the entrance, employees set off confetti cannons.
"Welcome back, Ash!" someone called out.
"The boss has been lost without you!" Eric shouted, grinning wickedly at me.
I stood to the side, watching as colleagues surrounded Ash with genuine warmth. His eyes grew bright, clearly moved. Owen and Eric "kidnapped" his wheelchair, pushing him around at alarming speeds while Ash alternated between terrified shrieks and helpless laughter.
When I took the microphone, I kept it light. "Today, I'm not your ruthless, exploitative boss."
"Then you're our generous benefactor showering us with bonuses!" Eric called out, and the room erupted in laughter.
The toasts started immediately after, one colleague after another coming up to clink glasses. I accepted every drink until eventually the room tilted pleasantly and I found myself slumped over a table.
When I finally stumbled outside, snow was falling—the first of the year. Fat, lazy flakes drifted down from the dark sky. I stood there swaying slightly, watching the snow transform the familiar street.
Then strong arms wrapped around me from behind. Even through my alcohol-fogged mind, I recognized Lucian's scent immediately.
"Cold," I mumbled, leaning into his warmth. "So cold..."
He turned me around and guided me back into the building's shelter. I barely registered what was happening as he helped me into his car, Ash already settled in the back seat.
At Full Moon Emergency Center, Ash suddenly spoke up. "Can we stop for a minute? I want to make a snowball."
"You want to what?" I turned around, my words slightly slurred.
"Just one snowball," he insisted. "I haven't touched snow in months."
"Then do it," I said immediately, my alcohol-loosened tongue making me bolder. "Make your snowball."
Lucian pulled over without argument. I helped Ash from the car, then bent down to scoop up snow, packing it into a sphere. Ash took it with both hands, wound up dramatically, and threw it with surprising force.
The snowball sailed through the falling flakes and hit a woman in a cream-colored coat squarely in the shoulder. She gasped, and the man beside her immediately steadied her.
"I'm so sorry!" Lucian called out, moving forward quickly. "He didn't mean to hit anyone."
"It was an accident," Ash added earnestly. "I really didn't aim at you, I promise."
The couple turned toward us, and I got my first clear look at them under the streetlight. The man was in his late forties, distinguished-looking with silver threading through his dark hair.
Then his eyes landed on Ash's face, and the man went completely still. His wife made a small, choked sound, her hand flying to her mouth.
"It's fine," the man said abruptly, his voice tight and strange. "Really, it's fine. We should go, darling."
But his wife wasn't moving, her eyes locked on Ash with an intensity that made my skin prickle. The man tugged at her arm more insistently.
"We need to leave," he said, louder this time, almost desperate. "Now."
They hurried away into the swirling snow, but their voices carried back to us.
"I have to ask him!" the woman's voice rose, sharp with emotion. "I have to know!"
"It's been so many years," the man replied, pleading. "What if you're wrong? What if it's not—"
"What if it's not what?" she cut him off. "I'm not imagining this! I need to know!"
Her response dissolved into muffled sobbing that echoed through the empty street. We stood frozen until the couple disappeared and their voices faded.
The ride to Ash's room was silent, heavy with unspoken questions and creeping wrongness. After a nurse came to take Ash for his evening medication, Lucian and I sat side by side on the hallway bench.
The silence stretched between us. Finally, I couldn't hold it in any longer.
I turned to look at Lucian, studying his profile in the harsh hospital lighting. When I spoke, my voice came out quieter than I intended.
"Don't you think that man looked a lot like Ash?"