Chapter 70 Something New
Rowan
The cursor blinks at the top of the document like it’s waiting for permission.
I don’t give it any.
The office is quiet in the way only reinforced walls and money can make it quiet. No hum of traffic. No voices. Just the low whirr of servers somewhere beneath the floor and the faint glow of monitors reflecting off glass and steel.
I read the first paragraph again.
This agreement establishes a private, exclusive partnership between the undersigned parties, intended to formalize mutual obligations, shared resources, and unified representation in both professional and personal capacities. The purpose of this agreement is to ensure stability, protection, and continuity in the event of external threat, legal scrutiny, or reputational risk.
My fingers rest on the desk, still. I don’t scroll. I don’t edit. I just stare at the words and imagine her reading them. Her eyes narrowing. Her mouth setting into that stubborn line she gets when she knows someone is trying to corner her.
She would ask questions. She would push back. She would refuse outright.
At first.
A knock sounds at the door, sharp and unwelcome.
“Come in,” I say without looking away from the screen.
Devin steps inside, tablet tucked under his arm, expression already apologetic.
“You’ve got Morales on line three,” he says. “He sounds eager.”
I close my eyes and exhale through my nose.
“Of course he does.”
I save the document without naming it, just a string of numbers and letters no one would question, then reach for the phone.
“Put him through,” I say.
The line clicks.
“Mr. Ashcroft,” Morales says immediately, voice tight with forced confidence. “Thank you for taking my call. I wanted to update you personally.”
“I’m listening,” I reply.
There’s a rustle of paper on his end. Clearing his throat. The sound of a man trying to sound in control when he knows he isn’t.
“Detective Calder has been dealt with,” Morales says. “Effective immediately, he’s been suspended pending termination. His badge and credentials have been confiscated, and he’s been escorted off the premises.”
I say nothing.
“The hold placed on Evan Pierce has been lifted,” he continues. “That was removed by my office directly. The transfer to Sunnyfields Burial Homes is complete.”
Good.
“And,” Morales adds quickly, “a full scale internal investigation is underway. We’ve uncovered discrepancies in Calder’s employment records, use of force reports, and unauthorized communications. Internal Affairs is treating this as a priority.”
I lean back in my chair, steepling my fingers. “And?”
“And,” he says, hesitating just a beat too long, “two detectives from Internal Affairs will be reaching out shortly. They’ll need to speak with you. And with Violet Pierce.”
There it is.
“When,” I ask.
“They’re en route,” Morales says. “I wanted to give you a heads up before they arrived.”
I smile, though he can’t see it.
“Very considerate of you,” I say. “Tell me, Morales. Is this the part where you advise cooperation?”
“Yes,” he admits. “It is.”
“Then let me advise you in return,” I say calmly. “Those detectives will be polite. They will be thorough. And they will leave with exactly what is appropriate for them to leave with.”
Morales swallows. I can hear it.
“I assume you have legal counsel present,” he says.
“I always do,” I reply. “Do you?”
A pause.
“Yes,” he says stiffly.
“Good,” I say. “You’re going to need it.”
“Mr. Ashcroft,” Morales says carefully, “this investigation is not aimed at you.”
“It better not be,” I reply. “Because if this turns into anything resembling retaliation or deflection, I will dismantle your department piece by piece and donate what’s left to a watchdog foundation just to watch you explain it on record.”
Silence.
Then, quietly, “Understood.”
I end the call without waiting for anything else.
The silence that follows is thick. Satisfying. Dangerous.
I set the phone down slowly, then lean back in my chair, eyes drifting back to the dark monitor where the unnamed document waits. It feels heavier now. Less theoretical. More inevitable.
“Devin,” I say.
He straightens slightly. “Yes?”
“Take a look at something for me.”
I rotate the monitor toward him and stand, giving him my chair. He doesn’t sit right away. He reads standing, one hand braced on the desk, the other scrolling carefully.
The room fills with the faint sound of text moving upward.
Seconds pass.
Then more.
He doesn’t speak. His face doesn’t give much away at first, but I know him too well. I recognize the moment his jaw tightens. The moment his brows draw together, not in confusion, but in concern.
Finally, he looks up at me.
And there it is.
Disapproval. Clean and sharp in his eyes.
“Are you okay?” he asks quietly.
I don’t hesitate. “I’m fine.”
That answer doesn’t satisfy him. It never does.
He turns the monitor back toward me and gestures at it. “You’re really going to do this.”
“Yes.”
It’s not defensive. It’s not angry. It’s simply a fact.
Devin exhales through his nose and rubs a hand over his mouth. “Rowan.”
“Don’t,” I warn.
He ignores it. “This isn’t a contingency plan. This isn’t protection. This is permanent.”
“That’s the point.”
His eyes flick toward the security wall instinctively, then back to me. “She hasn’t agreed to anything.”
“Yet.”
His lips press into a thin line. “And if she says no.”
I meet his gaze. “She won’t.”
He studies me for a long moment. “That confidence worries me.”
Before I can respond, a sharp electronic chirp cuts through the room.
Both of us turn.
The security system lights up, pulling the driveway feed to the main screen automatically.
A black SUV rolls through the gate, smooth and controlled. It stops precisely where it should. The doors open.
Violet steps out first.
My chest tightens, instant and unhelpful.
She looks smaller than she did this morning. Wrapped in herself. Camille is immediately at her side, hand brushing her arm, guiding her forward. Theo follows close behind, scanning the perimeter like he’s expecting the world to lunge.
They move toward the house.
Safe. On schedule. Exactly where I told them to be.
Devin sighs softly beside me.
“You’re missing something,” he says.
I don’t look away from the screen. “Enlighten me.”
He watches Violet for another second, then turns to face me fully. “You’re building this like a fortress. Legal. Financial. Physical. Control layered on top of control.”
“That’s how you survive,” I reply.
“That’s how you own a battlefield,” he counters. “Not how you keep a person.”
I finally look at him.
His expression isn’t angry. It isn’t accusatory.
It’s… knowing.
“What exactly do you think I’m missing?” I ask.
He smiles then. Not amused. Not smug. Just sharp enough to hurt.
“Consent isn’t the same thing as surrender,” he says. “And affection doesn’t come from contracts, no matter how airtight they are.”
I scoff. “You think I don’t know that?”
“I think,” he says carefully, “that you’re used to people needing you more than they want you. And Violet is not built that way.”
The front door opens on the screen. Camille ushers Violet inside, still talking animatedly, probably distracting her with something ridiculous. Theo lingers a second longer, glancing up at the cameras like he knows he’s being watched.
Then they’re gone from view.
The house absorbs them.
I feel it settle in my bones.
Devin steps away from the desk. “Think real hard about what you’re going to need to make this work,” he says. “Not legally. Not strategically.”
I don’t respond.
He heads for the door, pausing with his hand on the handle.
“And Rowan?” he adds.
“Yes.”
“If you push too hard, she won’t bend.”
The door clicks shut behind him.
I’m alone again.
I turn back to the monitor, to the quiet document waiting patiently for my next move.
Think real hard.
Fine.
I lean forward, elbows on the desk, fingers steepled.
Because Devin is right about one thing.
If I want Violet to choose me, really choose me, then power alone won’t be enough.