CH- 21

CH- 21
AMELIA’S POV

I didn't know what to expect, but I wasn't surprised when they locked us out of the company's building the next morning.

A circus of reporters and journalists pressed at the gates, craning for a glimpse, but the high walls did their job. Still, my stomach knotted.

Weren't we only trying to give Nathan temporary memory loss with those drugs? Why this—why police vehicles lined up outside?

My pulse jumped. Something worse than a blackout was happening.

They herded the staff into the conference room in the separate building. No one said much; we all sat waiting for the next shoe to drop. I could feel my chest tightening, breath shallow enough that I thought I might actually faint.

“Do you have any idea what is going on?” Gabriella asked. I’d held a steady resentment toward her since her promotion, but this wasn’t the time to feed it. I forced my attention outward. “No. Do you?”

She shifted in her seat, glancing around like someone biting their lip. “I heard it on the radio in my car. Something to do with the launch last night.” She swallowed. “They’re saying he murdered a girl in his penthouse after the launch.”

My eyes widened so fast I think the room blurred. Murder? Nathan could be cruel, possessive, monstrous in other ways—but a murderer? The word lodged in my throat like ice. “Where is Nathan now?” I whispered.

“That’s the thing.” Gabriella’s voice was small. “He’s missing.”

I opened my mouth to ask more—was this part of what we’d intended, some side effect, some coincidence?—but a sound at the door cut me off.

Lucas walked in with that practiced, casual stride that always made me want to both trust him and distrust him. “Everyone go into your office and do your jobs. Business as usual.”

People murmured as they rose and drifted out. I stayed. I needed answers. I needed to know what had become of our carefully laid plan.

“Lucas, what is going on? I heard Nathan is wanted for murder. How?” I asked when the crowd thinned.

He hesitated, and for a second he looked human—tired, his hair still damp, the faint scent of aftershave hanging in the air. “All you need to know is that Nathan didn't do it.”

“But where is he? Shouldn't he be defending himself? Our company is getting dragged through the mud.” My voice sounded sharper even to me. They’d told me the drug only caused memory loss. Murder didn’t fit into that explanation. I was grasping at explanations and coming up empty.

Lucas put a hand on my shoulder and pulled me closer. Up close I could see the strain at the corners of his eyes.

“Amelia, you’re literally the only person I can trust here, and I need you to do the same for me. Please trust me—be sure that Nathan didn’t murder anyone.”

Before I could answer, three police officers entered. One wore a gray three-piece suit and a mustache that swallowed his jawline; he would have been handsome if not for the hard line of professionalism that made him unreadable.

“Mr. Lucas Noah, I am Detective Conan. I work with homicide. I need to speak with you.”

“Give me a minute.” Lucas glanced at me, then pulled me further into a corner. “Keep the company calm, Amelia. I’ll talk to you when I get back. And before that—check for any suspicious activity at the launch last night.”

Millions of questions crowded my mind; I could feel their weight like stones in my stomach. The detectives’ eyes flicked in our direction and I bit down the rest.

“Alright,” I said, though my voice trembled. I watched Lucas walk away with the detectives, each step taking a measure of certainty with him and leaving me with a cold, growing doubt.

LUCAS’ POV

I walked into the station with the detectives flanking me, their shoes echoing against the tiled floor.

I wasn’t surprised; I’d known from the moment the story broke that my name would surface as a person of interest.

On the drive over, I’d gone through my script again and again, running every possible angle, making sure no detail tripped me up. Now, in this sterile corridor, it was showtime.

They led me into a small room reserved for suspects. The air was too cold, the fluorescent light buzzing faintly above me.

I sat down, forcing myself to stay still, to look neither defensive nor too relaxed. When Conan entered—file tucked under his arm, jaw tight beneath that mustache—I knew instantly this man was sharp. Dangerous sharp.

“Mr. Lucas, we have a few questions regarding the suspected murder of a lady found in your boss’s penthouse.”

I met his gaze without blinking. “I’m listening.”

He slid into the chair opposite mine. The light was deliberately angled—classic intimidation tactic, highlighting the table between us like a stage.

“Where is Nathan Delanza?”

“You’d have to ask him.” I kept my voice clipped, my answers short.

“We would, if we could find him. But what we found was this.” He opened the file, spread out photos on the table. Grainy shots of me and Nathan leaving the penthouse, heads lowered.

“Yes, that was us leaving this morning,” I admitted easily. “We went our separate ways after that. I haven’t seen or spoken to him since.”

Conan smiled faintly, stood, circled like a hawk sizing up prey. “Where were you this morning, Lucas? Your staff says you’re never late.”

“My daughter had the flu. I stayed home with her for a while.” I leaned back. “Sincerely, I think this is a waste of time. You should be out there finding Nathan, not chasing smoke.”

He laid down another set of photos—this time of a blonde woman.

“Have you seen this lady before?”

I barely let my eyes flicker over her face. “No. Never.”

“Think carefully. She was found dead in Nathan’s penthouse. In the restroom.”

I forced indifference, let the corners of my mouth stay neutral. “That’s tragic. But I’ve never seen her before. Are we finished?”

His tone sharpened. “This isn’t just anyone, Mr. Lucas. This is Deri Vander—the only daughter of Mr. Vander, owner of Dekler Firms. You understand what this means for your company. For your friend.”

“I already told you,” I said, steady. “I’ve never seen her.”

He leaned closer, dropping his voice. “You seem like a smart man. I looked into you. A wife. Two beautiful daughters. Do you know how many years you’d get if you’re tied as an accomplice?”

I didn’t flinch. “I’d like to speak to my lawyer now.”

My tone was iron, and it worked. Conan pulled back, clipped, “Alright, Mr. Lucas. We’ll be in touch. If you remember anything, reach out. We’re done.”

When the door finally opened, I stepped out into the hallway, muscles stiff from holding in tension. Nothing had been solved—if anything, the air outside felt heavier.

I pulled out my phone and dialed the one person I could still trust.

“Amelia,” I said the moment she picked up, “things just changed. I’m coming to the office. We need to talk.”