Chapter 94 Claims In The Dust
Chapter 94 Claims In The Dust
ROSEMARY
The American Midwest deal that I had pulled off had been a triumph of careful negotiation and bold vision.
We had secured a sprawling logistics hub that would serve as the backbone for our U.S. expansion, connecting ports, rail lines, and distribution centers in a way that would reshape supply chains across the continent.
The signing had been celebrated with virtual toasts and glowing internal memos. For a few precious hours, I had allowed myself to feel the rush of it - the satisfaction of watching years of strategy crystallize into something real. Something that felt unstoppable.
But then, the claims started rolling in.
A development firm (which we later discovered to be Dale related) filed legal challenges on three of the newly acquired Laurent properties.
The filings were meticulous, wrapped in layers of legitimate sounding language, but the intent was crystal clear: slow everything down, tie us up in court proceedings, bleed resources and stall the momentum until the expansion lost its rhythm and its edge.
Justin confirmed the worst of it during a tense late night video call, his voice carrying the weight of family knowledge he sounded like he wished he did not have.
“It is not about winning the properties,” he said, rubbing his temples.
"It’s about grinding you to a halt. Mario wants your expansion to stutter so he can reposition and strike when you’re weakest. I just don't know what he's trying to get from you. But this move he just pulled is a classic from the Dale playbook.”
I kept my face composed during the call, thanking him for the insight, but the moment the screen went dark, the mask slipped.
The helplessness hit me like it was a wave - cold, suffocating, and relentless. I had earned my place in this empire, not just through my name, or my father, but through sheer will and relentless drive, and now someone was trying to choke it with paperwork and delays.
I didn’t show it to the board. I didn’t show it to the team. I didn’t even show it fully to myself in the mirror.
But I showed it to Nyra.
She found me later that evening in the private lounge with my shoulders hunched, staring at nothing. I didn’t have to say a word.
She simply sat beside me, pulled me into a fierce hug, and let me breathe through the storm for a few quiet minutes.
“You’re not helpless, Rosemary. That's crazy for you to think that," she whispered.
“You’re just tired of fighting ghosts and probably the pressure from the marriage is weighing you down too. But you have beaten worse. You’ll beat this too.”
JULIAN
I worked from the shadows that night from my home office.
I made quiet calls, pulled in favors from people I had not spoken to in years - old contacts activated with careful precision.
By morning, the Dale linked firm had suddenly withdrawn their claims, citing “revised due diligence” and “mutual agreement.” The court proceedings evaporated before they could gain traction. Rosemary’s expansion plan could breathe again.
It was done. Clean. And traceable back to me only if someone told on me. It was a chance I was willing to take.
But when she found out the next morning, the gratitude I had foolishly hoped for never came.
ROSEMARY
“You did this, did you not?” I accused, standing in the doorway of his home office, my voice sharp as shattered crystal.
“You played hero again. Fixed whatever mess this was behind my back while keeping me in the dark about all the things that I want to know.”
Julian rose from the couch, his eyes dark with exhaustion and something fiercer.
"I was trying to protect what you’re building.”
“Protect?” I laughed bitterly, stepping inside and slamming the door.
“Or control? You’re no different from your father, you know? Always pulling strings from the shadows.”
I noticed that hurt him so I turned to leave, but he caught my wrist, spinning me back. His grip was iron, but his eyes burned with raw need.
“Don’t walk away from me,” he growled.
The dam broke at that moment.
He slammed me against the wall, his mouth crashing into mine with bruising force. I fought him at first - my nails digging into his shoulders and curses spilling from my lips - but when he shoved my dress up and thrust two fingers deep inside me without warning, my resistance fractured into a broken moan.
“Fuck you,” I spat, even as my hips bucked against his hand.
He didn’t stop. He freed himself, thick and throbbing, and drove into me in one savage stroke, pinning me to the wall. I cried out, my legs wrapping around his waist as he fucked me hard.
They were deep, punishing thrusts that stole my breath.
My curses dissolved into raw, shattered moans. The anger, the fear, the endless teasing from days of denial - it all collided into something devastating. He gripped my hair, forcing me to look at him as he pounded into me, hitting that perfect spot over and over until my vision blurred.
When I came, it was violent - an earth-shattering release that left me shaking, tears pricking my eyes, legs barely holding me up.
We slid to the floor together, still joined, our breathing ragged.
For a long moment, neither of us spoke. Then the anger returned, quieter but no less sharp.
“We’re still broken,” I whispered, my voice hoarse.
“I know,” he replied, holding me tighter.
We fell asleep right there on the floor -satisfied, tangled, and still furious with each other.