Chapter 14
Jacob lifted his gaze, his stare ice-cold and dismissive. He didn't bother with a response.
Richard seemed oblivious to the brush-off. He let out a theatrical sigh and settled into the leather sofa across from him, swirling the amber liquid in his crystal tumbler. "Can't really blame them for watching you like hawks, you know. The Smith family—your position, especially—it's got a target painted on it. Sure, you've got your army of bodyguards when you're out and about, but here at home?" He paused for effect. "Things slip through the cracks. Jack got lucky this time. Next time..."
The words didn't land like comfort—they landed like a threat.
Jacob stubbed out his cigar with deliberate slowness, his voice void of any warmth. "Save your concern. My son is mine to protect. As for those rats hiding in the shadows—"
He paused, his lips curling into something that might've been a smile if it weren't so terrifying. "I'll drag them out one by one and crush them."
The savage glint in Jacob's eyes made Richard's pulse stutter, though his face maintained its genial mask. "Naturally. Everyone knows what you're capable of. I have complete faith in you."
He took a slow sip of his drink, shifting gears with practiced ease. "Speaking of which—Jack's safe return, we have Ms. Windsor to thank for that, don't we? Word is, she just happened to be in the right place at the right time?"
At the mention of Elizabeth, Jacob's expression turned glacial.
That woman's appearance was too convenient. Too perfectly timed. He couldn't shake his suspicion.
Richard studied his reaction, his smile deepening with barely concealed mockery. "This Ms. Windsor—I've heard some interesting things. Apparently, she was old Mr. Windsor's favorite granddaughter. But her reputation..." He clicked his tongue. "Let's just say she's made some questionable choices for someone so young. And the rumors about a child?"
"Jacob, Father built this family on reputation. You insist on bringing a woman like that into the fold—it's bound to ruffle feathers. Hell, half the family's already up in arms about it."
The schadenfreude in his voice was unmistakable.
Richard had never forgiven Gray for the slight—passing over him, the eldest son, to hand the keys to the kingdom to Jacob, who'd barely been out of his twenties at the time.
Now, watching Jacob juggle external threats and internal discord, all while shackling himself to a woman with a scandalous past? It was the best news Richard had heard in years.
A leader with a shaky foundation, enemies on all sides, and a bride who'd bear him tainted heirs. How long could he possibly last? Richard's thoughts turned vicious with satisfaction.
Jacob heard every barb hidden in Richard's words—the manipulation, the mockery.
But whatever his feelings about Elizabeth, outsiders didn't get to weigh in.
He rose from his chair, his six-foot-three frame casting a shadow over Richard. The air shifted, heavy with unspoken menace. "Who I marry is no one's goddamn business. The old guard got opinions? They can bring them to me."
His voice was low, controlled—the kind of quiet that preceded violence. "And whether she's suitable or not? If I say she is, she is."
He moved closer, invading Richard's space until they were nearly nose-to-nose. His next words dropped to a near-whisper. "You've got time to worry about my business, Richard? Maybe you should spend it cleaning up those dirty little operations of yours. Next time I catch your people reaching where they shouldn't, I won't be so understanding."
Richard's smile froze. His fingers tightened around the crystal glass.
Jacob was warning him.
He'd been investigating.
"Jacob, what are you implying—" Richard tried to salvage the situation.
"Get out." Jacob cut him off, already turning away, done with the conversation.
Richard's face cycled through shades of red and white. In the end, he didn't dare push back. He set down his glass and stalked out of the study, resentment rolling off him in waves.
The door clicked shut. Jacob moved to the window, staring out at the darkness pressing against the glass.
The kidnapping scapegoat. Richard's power plays. Potential dissent within the ranks. And Elizabeth—suspicious, calculating Elizabeth.
It was all closing in like a noose.
Problems inside and out.
But he hadn't clawed his way through literal mountains of corpses to sit at the head of this table just to be taken down by this bullshit.
He pulled out his phone and dialed. When the line connected, his voice was back to its usual steel. "Double the surveillance on Richard and everyone in his crew. And I want a complete re-vetting of everyone—staff, security, the works. That includes anyone connected to the Windsor family. I need to know if Elizabeth's rescue of Jack was a genuine coincidence or something else."
If it really was a coincidence, why the hell was an ordinary woman like Elizabeth out there in the middle of the night?
And why were Jack's kidnappers all dead?
Elizabeth had secrets. He could smell them.
Leon materialized in the doorway like a ghost, his head bowed respectfully. "Mr. Smith, we intercepted some chatter. Henry Aiden—he's been digging around, trying to figure out if you were behind what happened to his pinky finger. Since he's Ms. Windsor's ex-fiancé, he seems to think it was your way of sending a message."
Leon's tone stayed level, but the implications were explosive.
"I ordered it?" Jacob repeated slowly, his tone unreadable. But his eyes—those dark, fathomless eyes—ignited with cold fury.
If he'd wanted Henry dealt with, the man would be in a morgue, not walking around minus one finger.
He didn't waste energy on nobodies like Henry Aiden. Hell, before today, he'd barely registered the name.
Someone was trying to pin this on him. How fucking amusing.
"Henry," Jacob said the name like he was testing how it tasted. A cruel smile curved his lips. "How close was he with Elizabeth?"
Leon answered immediately. "They were engaged. Before Ms. Windsor agreed to your arrangement, she actually approached the Aiden family for protection."
"So they were close, then." It wasn't really a question.
Leon stayed silent, thinking that whatever feelings they'd had couldn't have survived Ms. Windsor having someone else's child. If the kid had been Henry's, they'd have been married years ago instead of Jacob stepping in now.
He wisely kept that observation to himself.
Jacob's mind clearly followed the same path. The woman hadn't married for years. Either she didn't want to, or Henry didn't.
Either scenario pissed him off.
"Good." Jacob's voice carried that eerie calm that preceded bloodshed. "Since Henry's so desperate to know who took his finger, let's enlighten him."
He turned to Leon, his expression merciless. "Bring Henry to me. He's missing his right pinky, isn't he? For symmetry's sake, take the one on his left hand too."