Chapter 101 Surprise
Violet
The ride back to Rowan’s house is quiet, but not the peaceful kind.
It’s the kind where everyone is thinking too hard.
The SUV glides through the city streets with that same smooth silence Rowan’s drivers always manage, the hum of the engine barely noticeable beneath the tension sitting in the back seat. I’m wedged between Camille and Rowan, my shoulder lightly brushing his arm every time the vehicle turns. Theo sits in the front passenger seat while the driver navigates traffic, and no one has said much since we left the building.
Which is strange, because usually Camille fills quiet spaces with commentary.
Right now she’s staring out the window.
Theo’s posture in the front seat is rigid.
Rowan is… still.
Not tense.
Just still.
His presence beside me is solid in a way that feels almost deliberate, like he’s quietly anchoring the entire car by sheer force of will.
I keep replaying the press conference in my head.
The footage.
Ricki Merci standing at that podium.
The way the narrative flipped in real time.
Part of me feels relieved.
The other part knows this probably just escalated everything.
The car turns onto Rowan’s street.
The moment we approach the main gate, the driver slows.
And then I see them.
“Oh my god,” Camille mutters beside me.
Press vans.
Lights.
Dozens of people crowding the road outside the tall iron gates that guard Rowan’s property like the entrance to a private fortress. Cameras flash constantly, the rapid bursts of light reflecting off the SUV’s tinted windows as reporters cluster along the barricades.
The second the car rolls closer, the shouting starts.
“Mr. Ashcroft!”
“Miss Pierce!”
“Do you have a comment on the footage released today?”
“Did you manipulate the investigation?”
“Miss Pierce, do you feel pressured by Mr. Ashcroft?”
The flashes get brighter.
The shouting louder.
Theo swears under his breath in the front seat.
“Jesus Christ,” Camille murmurs.
Rowan doesn’t move.
But I feel the shift in him immediately.
His posture straightens slightly, his attention moving toward the front of the car as the gate finally begins to open. The driver doesn’t stop, easing the vehicle through the opening while the reporters outside the gate surge forward like sharks catching the scent of blood.
The gates close behind us.
The shouting fades.
But the flashes continue through the iron bars.
The SUV rolls slowly down the long private drive toward Rowan’s house.
And that’s when I see the other problem waiting for us.
Two unfamiliar cars parked near the front steps.
And three people standing beside them.
Devin.
And the two Internal Affairs detectives.
My stomach drops.
The SUV stops near the front entrance.
The moment the doors unlock, the shouting from outside the gate grows louder again, cameras flashing wildly as reporters try to capture whatever they can through the property’s perimeter.
Rowan reaches for the door first.
Then he pauses.
His hand lands lightly on my arm.
“Stay close,” he says quietly.
I nod.
He steps out first.
Immediately the flashes intensify.
Even from inside the gate, reporters are shouting questions across the distance.
“Mr. Ashcroft!”
“Are you harboring a witness?”
“Miss Pierce, do you feel safe?”
Rowan ignores all of it.
The moment I step out, the shouting gets louder.
“Miss Pierce!”
“Did Rowan Ashcroft pressure you into testimony?”
“Are you living with him voluntarily?”
Rowan moves closer without touching me, his body angled slightly between me and the reporters outside the gate.
Protective. Calculating. Cold.
Camille and Theo step out of the vehicle behind us.
Then Devin approaches from the steps. He looks tired.
The two Internal Affairs detectives stand behind him.
The woman speaks first. “Mr. Ashcroft,” she says.
Rowan doesn’t smile. “Detective.”
Her partner shifts his stance slightly. “We need to speak with Miss Pierce.”
Rowan’s expression doesn’t change. “You’re speaking with her now.”
The female detective glances briefly toward the reporters outside the gate before looking back at him. “We’re placing Miss Pierce into protective custody.”
My breath catches.
Camille goes rigid beside me.
Theo mutters something very unprofessional under his breath.
Rowan doesn’t react immediately.
But when he finally speaks, his voice is ice. “That won’t be necessary.”
The male detective steps forward. “With all due respect, Mr. Ashcroft, this situation has escalated significantly. Miss Pierce is now a public figure in an active investigation, and her safety—”
Rowan cuts him off. “You should have planned for that before your department allowed a detective to stalk and assault a civilian.”
The words land like a slap.
The female detective exhales slowly. “This isn’t about assigning blame.”
“No?” Rowan says quietly.
“No.”
“Because it looks exactly like that.”
The male detective tries again. “Mr. Ashcroft, placing Miss Pierce in protective custody ensures the integrity of the investigation.”
“Punishing her for your department’s failures ensures nothing,” Rowan replies flatly.
The reporters outside the gate are still shouting.
Cameras still flashing.
They can’t hear the exact words being exchanged, but they can definitely see the argument happening.
The female detective glances toward them nervously. “We’re trying to prevent further complications.”
Rowan’s eyes darken slightly. “Then perhaps you should have prevented the first ones.”
“Mr. Ashcroft—”
“No,” he interrupts again. “You had weeks to handle Calder. You failed. You had evidence of harassment. You failed. Now the situation is public, and your solution is to remove the woman your department already failed to protect?”
The male detective shifts uncomfortably. “That’s not what we’re doing.”
“It’s exactly what you’re doing.”
They go back and forth like that for another minute.
The tension growing.
The cameras still flashing outside the gate.
The entire world watching.
Finally the female detective says carefully, “Miss Pierce needs to come with us.”
Rowan looks at me then.
Just for a second.
Then he looks back at them.
And when he speaks again, his voice is calm. Dead calm. “You are not taking my wife anywhere.”
Everything stops.
Even the shouting from the gate seems to hesitate for a split second.
My brain completely short-circuits.
Wife.
Did he just—
Rowan’s arm slides gently around my waist. Not possessive. Not forceful. Just firm enough that there’s no question about where I belong.
“She stays with me,” he continues calmly.
The detectives stare at him. The reporters are shouting again. And before anyone can respond, Rowan guides me toward the front door.
Camille and Theo follow quickly. Devin steps inside behind us.
The door shuts. Rowan pulls out his phone and taps something once.
Somewhere in the house I hear the faint mechanical sound of the security system locking down the property.
The gates. The cameras. Everything.
And all I can think about—
Is the one word still echoing in my head.
Wife.
Wife!
We haven’t even slept together!
And he just told the entire world I’m his wife.