Chapter 94 Press
Violet
The car barely rolls to a stop before I see them.
Vans.
Tripods.
Clusters of people packed along the sidewalk in front of Ashcroft Industries like they’ve been waiting for hours.
My stomach drops.
“Oh my God,” Camille mutters beside me.
Cameras are already turning.
Microphones lifting.
The moment the car door opens, the shouting begins.
“Mr. Ashcroft!”
“Miss Pierce!”
Flash.
Flash.
Flash.
Theo sighs heavily from the front seat. “Well. That escalated overnight.”
Rowan opens the door first.
And the crowd surges forward.
Security immediately steps between us and the reporters, but it barely slows them.
“Mr. Ashcroft, are you hiding a key witness in an Internal Affairs investigation?”
“Miss Pierce, are you romantically involved with your boss?”
My face heats instantly.
“Did Ashcroft influence your testimony against Detective Calder?”
Another voice cuts through the chaos.
“Is that why he carried you into his house?”
Cameras fire in rapid bursts.
The flashes are blinding.
Rowan steps out fully, his posture calm and controlled, but the energy around him shifts immediately.
His hand comes to the small of my back as I step out beside him.
Not guiding.
Anchoring.
“Stay with me,” he murmurs.
The press pushes closer.
Too close.
A microphone nearly hits my shoulder.
“Miss Pierce, are you being coerced into cooperating with Internal Affairs?”
“Did Ashcroft isolate you from investigators?”
“Is he controlling your testimony?”
My chest tightens.
Someone shouts from the back of the crowd.
“Blink twice if you need help!”
Laughter ripples through a few reporters.
My throat closes.
Rowan’s arm tightens around my back instantly.
Theo steps forward beside him. “Back up. Now.”
But the reporters don’t move.
They surge closer.
“Mr. Ashcroft, are you paying her?”
“Did you compensate Miss Pierce for cooperating against Detective Calder?”
The words slam into me like a punch.
Rowan stops walking.
Just for a second.
Theo notices immediately.
“Rowan,” he warns under his breath.
Rowan turns his head slowly toward the crowd.
His expression is calm.
But the air around him turns sharp.
“If you touch her again with a microphone,” he says evenly, his voice carrying clearly over the noise, “I will have every one of you removed from this property.”
The reporters hesitate.
Only for a second.
Then the shouting starts again.
“Mr. Ashcroft, is this a conflict of interest?”
“Miss Pierce, are you financially dependent on your employer?”
Rowan doesn’t answer.
He simply keeps walking.
Security finally forces a path through the crowd toward the glass entrance doors of the building.
A journalist near the front shouts:
“Miss Pierce! Is this why Internal Affairs froze your accounts?”
My feet stop.
Everything in me locks.
The words slam into my chest like a physical blow.
Rowan hears it too.
His head turns sharply toward the reporter.
For a moment the world feels like it tilts sideways.
Frozen.
My accounts?
What?
Panic spikes instantly.
“Inside,” he says quietly.
Security pushes harder, creating a narrow corridor through the chaos.
We reach the glass doors.
Someone shouts again behind us.
“Miss Pierce, did Ashcroft pay you?”
The doors slam shut behind us.
The noise outside drops to a muffled roar.
But my heart is still racing.
“What the hell did he mean?” I whisper.
Rowan looks at me, brows pulling slightly together.
“I don’t know,” he says.
Theo exhales slowly beside us. “Let’s get upstairs.”
The lobby is quieter, but not calm.
Employees are staring.
Phones are already out.
People whisper as we pass.
We step into the private elevator and ride up to the executive floor in silence.
The moment the doors open, Rowan turns toward his office with Theo already speaking quietly beside him.
Camille and I head toward the reception desk.
But the journalist’s words won’t leave my head.
Is this why Internal Affairs froze your accounts?
My hands start shaking.
“That can’t be right,” I mutter.
Camille glances over. “What?”
I drop my bag beside the desk and immediately pull out my phone.
My banking app opens.
The loading wheel spins.
Then the screen changes.
And the words appear in bright red.
ACCOUNT TEMPORARILY FROZEN — PENDING INVESTIGATION
My breath catches.
“No.”
I tap the screen again.
Same message.
“They froze my accounts,” I whisper.
Camille’s head snaps up. “What?”
“They froze my accounts.”
My pulse starts hammering as I scroll down through the transaction history.
And that’s when I see it.
A deposit.
My eyes narrow.
“What the hell…”
Right there in the ledger.
$8,700 — WIRE TRANSFER
Source: ASHCROFT HOLDINGS
My stomach twists violently.
The exact amount.
The exact amount I paid Sunnyfields Funeral Home.
For my mother.
For my brother.
Camille steps closer. “What?”
I turn the phone toward her.
Her eyes widen instantly.
“Oh… shit.”
“That’s the exact amount I paid for the funeral,” I say, my voice shaking now with anger instead of panic.
“They’re going to say he paid you,” Camille mutters.
“I know that.”
My chair scrapes loudly across the floor as I stand.
“They froze my accounts,” I say, fury rising in my chest. “And now it looks like Rowan wired me money.”
Camille’s eyes widen further.
“They’re setting you up.”
I’m already moving.
Walking straight toward Rowan’s office.
The door to Rowan’s office flies open so hard it slams into the wall.
Theo stops mid-sentence.
“…the press are already calling the city council office and if Hargrove—”
He cuts off immediately.
Rowan is standing behind his desk, jacket off, sleeves rolled halfway up his forearms, the sharp lines of frustration still written across his face from whatever Theo had just been briefing him on.
But the moment he sees my expression, something in his gaze shifts.
“What happened?” he asks.
I don’t answer.
I cross the room in four fast steps and shove my phone toward his face.
“I want an explanation,” I snap. “Right now.”
Theo’s brows shoot up.
Rowan takes the phone automatically, glancing down at the screen.
The banking app.
The transaction history.
The frozen account notice.
And the wire transfer.
His expression doesn’t change.
Not even a flicker.
Which only makes my anger spike hotter.
“Why,” I say through clenched teeth, “did you pay me eight thousand seven hundred dollars?”
Theo slowly leans back against the edge of Rowan’s desk.
“Oh boy.”
Rowan lowers the phone slightly, looking at me again.
“That was reimbursement,” he says calmly.
My jaw drops.
“Reimbursement?”
“Yes.”
“For what?” I demand.
“For the funeral.”
The words land flat in the room.
Cold.
Matter-of-fact.
My chest tightens.
“I didn’t ask you to reimburse me,” I snap.
“You shouldn’t have had to pay it in the first place.”
“That was not your decision to make!”
Theo lifts a hand like he’s watching a tennis match. “Okay, before this escalates—”
“It already escalated!” I shoot back, pointing at the phone. “My accounts are frozen!”
That gets Rowan’s full attention. “Frozen?” he repeats.
“Yes.”
I snatch the phone back and shove the screen toward him again.
“Pending investigation,” I read bitterly. “Which now conveniently includes a wire transfer from my boss for the exact amount I paid the funeral home.”
Theo winces. “Oh that is bad optics.”
I glare at Rowan. “They’re going to say you bought my testimony.”
His jaw tightens slightly.
“They’re going to say I was paid to go against Calder.”
His eyes darken.
“They’re going to say I ran to your house because you were already controlling me,” I continue, my voice rising with every word. “Do you understand how that looks?”
Rowan steps around the desk slowly.
Measured.
Dangerously calm.
“I understand exactly how it looks,” he says.
“Then why would you do it?”
“Because you paid for your family’s burial out of pocket while you were under active harassment from a police officer.”
“That still doesn’t make it your call!”
“You work for me.”
“I am not your charity case!”
The room goes very quiet.
Theo looks between us carefully.
Rowan’s voice lowers when he speaks again. “You’re not.”
“Then stop treating me like one!”
“You’re my responsibility.”
The words come out sharp.
Possessive.