Chapter 130

Chapter 130
The tension in the room was suffocating, dense enough to make breathing feel complicated.

Aiden kept his posture relaxed, hands loose at his sides, expression neutral. Inside, however, the pressure was building and the fear had sharpened into something thin and lethal, something that forced him to stay alert, stay clever, stay several steps ahead.

Because one mistake…
One wrong breath…
And everything would unravel.

The police had set up a small workstation on the coffee table. One was typing into his system, cross-checking digital databases. The other was on the house landline, speaking to someone about biometric verification protocols. Every now and then, both officers would glance between their devices and the two suspects.

Every time their eyes passed over him, Aiden’s heartbeat kicked just a little harder.

He could not afford a single slip.

He could not afford discovery.

Then, a vibration buzzed silently through his palm. Aiden’s phone, tucked deep in his pocket.

He did not react outwardly. He kept his expression steady, his breath even, his body language normal. Moving now would attract suspicion. Pulling out a phone in front of police? Even worse.

But he knew who it was.

It was Justin.

Aiden forced himself to wait, to choose the right moment. Seconds trickled like cold sweat down his spine. The police continued typing, muttering to each other.

When their focus dipped, Aiden slipped his hand into his pocket, angled his back slightly, and opened the message without letting the phone leave the shadow of his hip.

The text was short.

GET ME THE NUMBER OF WHO SENT THE ANONYMOUS MESSAGE.

Aiden’s stomach knotted. His gaze slid toward Jace. Jace was sitting tensely on the edge of the sofa, his hands clasped together, his face pale. His phone lay on the table between him and the policemen. If Aiden wanted the sender’s number, he needed that phone.

He thought fast, letting his expression sharpen just enough to look confused. Then he cleared his throat gently.

“Excuse me,” Aiden said softly.

Both officers looked up.
Jace did too.

Aiden forced a nervous swallow.“Could I… see the message again?” he asked. “I just want to be sure this is not some misunderstanding.”

The officer with Jace’s phone exhaled in irritation, clearly exhausted with the entire situation. But he held up the phone anyway, pulling up the anonymous text.

“Make it quick,” he muttered.

Aiden leaned forward just enough.

His eyes scanned the message only long enough to catch the phone number displayed beneath it.

He memorised it instantly.

Every digit.

His brain carved it deep, he did not allow himself the possibility of forgetting. He nodded once at the officer, playing it off like he had simply needed reassurance.

The officer pulled the phone away and continued working.

Aiden sat back, heartbeat thudding in his ears.

Now.

He had to send it now.

But any movement would draw eyes.

He waited.

One minute.
Two minutes.
Three.
Four.

Time crawled painfully.
He could feel sweat forming at the back of his neck.

Finally, both officers leaned close to each other, reviewing something on the tablet. For a brief moment, their attention was elsewhere.

Aiden moved.

He shifted his body a fraction to the side, dipped his hand into his pocket again, and typed the number painfully slowly, screen angled down, every movement small enough to pass as unconscious fidgeting.

He hit SEND.

Message delivered.

He slipped the phone back into his pocket before either officer could glance up.

His pulse eased, but only barely.

Now he waited.

Two hours passed.

Two hours of suffocating stillness.
Two hours of the police double-checking identities, refreshing federal databases, making calls, verifying birth records, scanning the forged papers for flaws.

Morgan stood rigid the whole time, his jaw clenched tight as stone.

Jace paced.
Noah watched everything with suspicion.

Aiden kept still.

Then, another small vibration in his pocket again.

He checked it when the officers weren’t looking.

It was Victor Crane.
He sent the anonymous text.

Aiden’s jaw tightened. Victor, that pathetic, washed-up monster who now lived disguised as a driver.

Justin’s next message arrived a second later.

There is a man outside the gate with a brown envelope. It had documents that will implicate Victor as Aiden. Plant them. Make the police find them. Make Jace believe it and do NOT get caught.

Aiden’s breath stilled and he sent a reply

How am I supposed to do all that.

Another message came immediately after.

Figure out HOW. Unless you want to go back to prison.

Aiden closed his eyes for half a second and then the idea flickered.

He typed back:

Have the man write FOR JACE on the envelope. Knock and leave. Someone at the gate will bring it inside.

Aiden waited for a response but there was none so he tucked the phone away.

Now he waited.

A few minutes later, a security guard walked into the sitting room holding a large brown envelope.

“There is a package for you, sir,” the guard said to Jace.

Aiden’s chest tightened.
Perfect.

Jace reached for it, brow furrowing, but the police stepped forward instantly.

“Wait.”

The taller officer took the envelope from the guard’s hands and examined it.

“For Jace,” he read aloud.

He tore it open.

Documents spilled onto the table—IDs, license cards, fingerprints, federal background sheets.

Aiden’s stomach twisted with cold calculation.

The picture displayed belonged to Ben, the driver.
Except it was not really Ben. It was Victor Crane behind that disguise.

But the name printed on the IDs, bold and unmistakable was Aiden Hale.

The policeman lifted the documents and walked to Jace.

“Mr. Crane,” he said. “Do you recognise the man in this photo?”

Jace’s eyes widened in shock.

“Yes,” he breathed. “That is Ben. My driver. He’s outside...washing the car.”

And then, the officers bolted.

They rushed outside, Jace trailing behind them with panic in his steps.

Aiden followed at a distance, careful not to stand out.

Outside, Victor, was bent beside the car, rinsing the front tire. He looked up in confusion as the police stormed toward him.

“You!” the officer barked. “Hands where we can see them. You are under arrest.”

Victor froze.

Then his face twisted, fear first, then anger, then something ugly and familiar.

“What...what the hell is this?” Victor demanded. “What are you talking about?”

But the police did not argue.

They grabbed him.
Pinned his arms.
Forced his wrists behind his back.

Victor struggled, shouting at them.

“You idiots! You don’t know what you are doing! I am Ben! I am Ben!”

The officer shoved the forged IDs toward him.

“Aiden Hale,” he said coldly. “You are under arrest for identity fraud, illegal surveillance, and attempted infiltration of this household.”

Victor’s face drained of colour.

He thrashed harder.

“I am not—! This is a setup! LISTEN TO ME!”

But no one listened.

Jace stood in shock, one hand covering his mouth.

Morgan stared in stunned silence.

Noah whispered something sharp under his breath.

And Aiden… Aiden watched it all with an emotion he could not name.

Victor was dragged toward the police car, still screaming.

Aiden let out a breath he had not realised he had been holding.
He was safe.
For now.​