Chapter 152 Fracture
Julian's POV
I sat in Sterling Manor's first-floor living room, fingers drumming the leather armrest. The mantel clock ticked past two a.m., each second stretching endlessly. I'd sent Father's security detail on false errands hours ago. The manor was empty except for us.
The front door slammed open, rattling the chandelier. Dominic stormed in, face twisted with rage, eyes flickering between brown and gold. He grabbed an antique silver candlestick from the coffee table and hurled it at the wall. It left a dent in the plaster before clattering to the floor, the metallic ring echoing through the empty house.
"You two think you're so clever, don't you?" Dominic's voice was raw, almost feral. His eyes had settled into that predatory gold that meant his wolf was too close to the surface. "I've never seen sons conspire against their own father before. Didn't expect Daniel to be on your payroll too."
I stood slowly, deliberately, keeping my movements controlled. "Daniel isn't my man, Father. He's a survivor who hedged his bets between you, Lucian, and me. A smart rat who knew when to jump ship. You should have noticed that about him years ago."
I paused, letting the words sink in before delivering the real blow. "And in case you're wondering, about half the senior executives at Sterling Pharmaceuticals answer to me now. Did you really think you were the only one playing chess?"
Dominic's pupils contracted to slits. In one fluid motion, he yanked his leather belt free from his waist, the buckle catching the light as it swung through the air. That sound, that specific whistle of leather cutting through space, triggered something primal in my nervous system.
My body remembered before my mind could catch up, twenty years of conditioning screaming at me to submit, to bow my head, to take whatever punishment was coming.
I took an involuntary step backward, and hated myself for it.
The belt came down in a vicious arc. My hand shot up on instinct and caught it mid-swing, wrapping my fingers around the leather just below the buckle. The metal edge bit into my palm, opening a gash that immediately welled with blood. The pain was sharp and clean, cutting through the fog of old fear.
"Enough." My voice came out low and steady, nothing like the trembling child who used to cower under these same strikes. I yanked hard on the belt, using Dominic's own momentum against him, and tore it from his grip.
I stood there holding the belt, my blood dripping onto the hardwood floor, and felt something shift inside my chest. This thing in my hand, this instrument of control that had shaped so much of my life, suddenly looked pathetic. A strip of worn leather, fraying at the edges. The shackles that had bound me for decades were already rusted through. I'd just been too trained, too conditioned, to test them before now.
Sirens cut through the night air, distant at first but growing rapidly closer. The sound seemed to drain the color from Dominic's face.
I smiled without humor. "I sent your security away, remember? There's no one here to intercept the Council enforcement team."
I pulled out my phone and held it up, thumb hovering over the play button. "Before they arrive, I thought you might want to see something. Lucian was kind enough to share his research with me."
The video played on the screen, grainy but unmistakable. The timestamp read March 15, 2001. A younger Dominic stood in what I recognized as Eleanor's private study, carefully tipping powder from a small vial into her evening wine glass. He stirred it with his finger, then wiped his hand on his pants before leaving the room.
"I filed the report under Eleanor's son's name," I said, my voice devoid of inflection. "Reported you for murdering my mother. Along with all the evidence Lucian and I compiled on your smuggling operations, the money laundering, the bribes to Council members. It's all been submitted to the investigative committee."
Dominic staggered backward until his legs hit the sofa. He collapsed onto it, his face ashen. "You don't understand. She was suffocating me. Every day, checking my phone, monitoring my schedule, questioning every meeting, every business trip. Her jealousy was insane, paranoid. I couldn't breathe with her watching my every move." His voice cracked, the justifications spilling out faster now. "I just wanted her to sleep, to give me one night of peace. How was I supposed to know she'd get in her car and drive? I didn't mean for her to crash. It was an accident."
"An accident you caused by drugging her without consent." I cut him off. "That's still murder, Father. Manslaughter at minimum."
The sirens were right outside now, red and blue lights strobing through the windows. Heavy boots pounded up the front steps. The door burst open and six Council enforcement officers in black tactical gear flooded into the room, silver-plated weapons drawn.
Dominic lunged toward me with a roar, but I sidestepped and shoved him directly into the arms of the nearest enforcer. Two Alpha officers moved with practiced efficiency, forcing his arms behind his back and snapping silver-lined handcuffs around his wrists. The metal hissed against his skin, and he howled in pain and fury.
"When I get out of this, you're dead," Dominic snarled at me, fighting against the officers' grip. "Both of you. I'll destroy everything you've built."
I watched them drag him toward the door, his threats echoing off the high ceilings. "You won't be getting out, Father. Murder of a mate, illegal arms trafficking, money laundering, election tampering. You'll die in Silverhold Prison."
They hauled him through the doorway and down the front steps. I stood in the empty manor, listening to his screams fade into the distance, and felt nothing but a hollow relief.
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Willow's POV
The roar of an engine shattered the quiet on the factory rooftop. I turned to see Lucian taking the stairs two at a time, his coat whipping behind him as he burst through the door. His eyes found Briar first, then me.
Briar and I were sitting side by side on the ledge, sharing my coat, watching the city lights flicker in the distance like dying stars. I'd been thinking about how small everything looked from up here, how all the power struggles and family obligations seemed to shrink into insignificance when you got enough distance.
I glanced at Lucian, then turned to Briar. "Your ride's here."
Briar blinked at me, confused. "Aren't you coming with us?"
I shook my head, my gaze drifting back to the horizon. "I have my own path to walk."
My phone vibrated in my pocket. Isabella's name appeared on the screen, and I stared at it for several long seconds before answering.
"You actually picked up for once?" Isabella's voice was sharp with accusation. "Do you have any idea what your mess has done to us? Those scandals are burning through the Davenport name. Your father is furious."
I opened my mouth but couldn't find words. What was there to say?
"Stay away from the house for a while," Isabella continued, her tone shifting to weary resignation. "Let things cool down. And don't mention any of this to your sister. I don't want her worrying about you."
Something made me speak. "Mom, I want Peanut Butter Cookies."
"Tell the kitchen staff when you get home." Isabella's impatience bled through the phone. "I have to go."
The line went dead.
I stared at the blank screen and started laughing. The sound was harsh and broken, echoing across the empty rooftop.
I'm severely allergic to peanuts. When I was seven, I accidentally ate a peanut cake at a birthday party and nearly died. They rushed me to the hospital where I spent the entire night in emergency care, my throat swollen shut, my parents pacing in the waiting room.
Isabella had forgotten. Or maybe she'd never really registered it in the first place.
"Why does being the eldest daughter mean I have to be the political bargaining chip?" I whispered to no one in particular. "Why has my entire life been decided by people who can't even remember what could kill me?"
I stood up and walked to the edge of the roof. My phone felt heavy in my hand, weighted down with every unanswered call from Father, every expectation I'd spent twenty-six years trying to meet.
I threw it over the side. It tumbled end over end, screen flashing in the darkness, before disappearing five stories below.