Chapter 119
Julian's POV
The car pulled into the police station parking lot as twilight settled over Silverton. Ethan and the lawyer stood waiting by the entrance.
They slid into the vehicle. "Sir."
"What exactly happened?" I asked.
"Lucas Grey was driving normally when a Bentley ran a red light and hit him," Ethan said, pulling up his tablet. "The other driver got out aggressive, blamed Lucas for 'not watching where he was going.' They argued. The other party got injured."
My jaw tightened. "How serious?"
"Minor contusion. But he's a councilman's nephew." Ethan's voice went flat. "The family's refusing mediation. They're demanding Lucas be charged with assault. Their exact words were 'teach this human a lesson.'"
"Surveillance footage?" I asked, though I already suspected the answer.
"The underground garage cameras were deliberately erased after the incident," Ethan confirmed. "No video of the actual confrontation."
I let out a short, humorless sound. "How convenient."
"The councilman personally called the precinct captain," Ethan continued. "They're holding Lucas, pending charges."
My mind was already calculating angles. "Get our tech team to recover the deleted footage. Priority one."
"Already in progress, sir."
The lawyer began his briefing. "Sir, I've reviewed the case file. Without video evidence, this becomes a credibility contest. Young human mechanic versus wealthy Lycan family." He paused meaningfully. "The outcome is predictable."
"What's their settlement demand?"
"Fifty thousand. Medical expenses and emotional distress." He adjusted his glasses. "But the family's rejected all mediation attempts. They made it clear—no amount of money will satisfy them. They want criminal charges."
The words hung in the air, calculated and cruel.
"Contact the precinct captain," I said. "And that councilman. Tell them I'll be there in thirty minutes."
Ethan glanced at me. "Should I phrase it diplomatically, sir?"
"No."
---
Two hours later, I stood in the captain's office with the recovered surveillance footage queued on my tablet. The video showed everything—the Bentley running the red light, the nephew initiating physical contact, Lucas only defending himself after being shoved to the ground.
The captain looked relieved. The councilman looked trapped.
"Mr. Grey will receive a formal apology," I said, voice level and final. "All charges dropped immediately. And if his family experiences any form of retaliation, I'll consider it a personal matter."
The threat needed no elaboration.
---
Twenty minutes later, Lucas Grey walked out, charges dismissed.
He stood outside the station, dark hair disheveled, bruises blooming along his jaw. When he saw me by the car, recognition and disbelief crossed his face simultaneously.
"Mr. Sterling." He hurried over and bowed deeply. "Thank you. I'm so sorry for the trouble—"
"Get in," I cut him off.
He slid into the passenger seat, tension radiating from his frame. Up close, I could see Nora in the stubborn set of his jaw, in the way he held himself despite obvious exhaustion.
"Why didn't you contact your family?" I asked.
"I didn't want to worry them," Lucas said quietly.
"So you called me. Why?"
He became awkward and flustered. "I was... gambling that you'd help. And also... I saw you with Nora at the funeral. You stayed close to her the whole time. I figured she was important to you. That maybe you'd help."
Smart kid.
"Did you tell her? About tonight?" He looked somewhat panicked.
"No."
Relief flooded his face. "Thank god."
I glanced at his bruised face. "How exactly do you plan to explain those injuries?"
Lucas winced. "I was going to say I got drunk and fell."
"She'll never believe that."
"If I commit to the performance, she might," he said, then caught my expression and deflated. "Okay, yeah, she'll probably see right through it. I'll cross that bridge when I come to it."
"I'll find a way to repay the lawyer fees and any potential settlement," he said, looking at me.
"No need."
"But—"
"Consider it full payment for the tire change," I said. "And for having the sense to keep Nora out of tonight's mess."
He looked torn between gratitude and guilt.
"How old are you?" I asked.
"Twenty-three."
"Employed?"
"Auto shop. Mostly day labor." His jaw tightened. "Was. Got fired."
"Come work for me. I'll arrange a stable job for you."
His expression was dramatic, switching between gratitude and admiration.
After dropping Lucas off at home, I began arranging tomorrow's return trip to Tidewater Bay.
When I saw three unread messages from Nora on my phone, the timestamps showing escalating worry, guilt cut through me like a knife.
I dialed her number.
"Julian?" She answered immediately, voice flooding with relief.
"I'm fine," I said. "Sorry I didn't call sooner. Everything's handled."
"'Handled' is frustratingly vague."
"Legal matter. Tedious, not dangerous." I leaned against the car. "How was your day?"
"Don't change the subject. You sound exhausted."
"Long day. I'll be back tomorrow."
"Okay." A pause. "I miss you."
The words hit like a physical thing. "I miss you too."
---
Nora's POV
My phone buzzed at 10:47 PM.
I'd given up trying to sleep an hour ago, my mind racing through scenarios about Julian's mysterious situation. A brief phone call had confirmed he was safe, but the lack of details left me anxious.
An audio file loaded on my screen. No message, no context.
Frowning, I hit play.
Julian's voice filled the room, low and slightly off-key, singing what sounded like a lullaby. The melody was simple, almost childlike, but his delivery was so earnest—so utterly serious—that I smiled before I could stop myself.
His pitch wavered, and he cleared his throat before continuing with admirable determination. The image of this powerful, composed man recording a lullaby—so absurd, so unexpectedly sweet—made laughter bubble up.
The song ended. Then his normal voice, slightly sheepish: "I'm told this works for putting children to sleep. Not sure about stubborn reporters, but worth a try."
I pressed my hand over my mouth, laughing in the darkness. Only Julian Sterling would respond to worry by recording himself singing off-key.
Another voice note arrived.
"Verdict?" Julian asked, smile evident even through the recording. "Did my sleep service meet standards, Miss Grey?"
I bit my lip, emotions tangling—amusement, warmth, longing.