Chapter 139 139. How Dare You Accuse Me
"You think you've won something?" I grabbed him by the collar and hauled him up, slamming my fist into his face. Blood sprayed across the floor. "You think sending her to prison makes you victorious?"
His laughter was wet and gurgling, but it didn't stop. "I've already won. You're here beating me instead of being with her."
"You violated her privacy," Punch, "You made her feel unsafe," punch, "you masturbated to her picture..."
"And it felt amazing-" my fist cut off his stinky words. I hit him again and again. My knuckles split open, blood mixing with his on my hands, but I couldn't stop. Every word he'd said about Camila, every violation, every sick confession fueled the violence pouring out of me.
"Apologize, now!' I growled.
"Fuck, no." He spat blood at my feet.
I drove my fist into his ribs. Something cracked. He wheezed but kept laughing.
"Go ahead. Beat me to death. It won't change anything. Camila's still in that cell, and that's almost better than having her myself."
"Shut your mouth." I grabbed a keyboard from the desk and smashed it across his face. Plastic keys scattered across the floor. Blood poured from his nose.
"Your pride won't let you accept it, will it?" He was still talking through broken teeth. "That she has the power to leave you."
"I said shut up."
"Make me. Or better yet, go back to your empty penthouse and think about how I got exactly what I wanted. I may not have Camila, but neither do you. We're both alone now. At least I have the satisfaction of knowing I'm the one who tore you apart."
I raised my fist one more time, but stopped halfway. If I killed him here, Camila would never forgive me. And he wasn't worth losing her over.
I threw him aside like trash. He crumpled into a heap of limbs and wires, his breath coming in ragged hitches. I stood over him, my chest heaving, the metallic scent of blood filling the cramped space. The monitors behind him flickered, casting strobe-like shadows across his broken face.
"You're going to rot for this," I promised, my voice dropping to a lethal hum. "For the privacy you stole, for the fear you instilled, and for the way you dared to speak her name with that filthy mouth.
I will spend every cent I have to ensure your life in prison is a slow, agonizing descent into hell. You will pay with every breath you take."
I turned my back on his whimpering form and walked out into the frigid night air. The leather groaned from my tight grip on the wheel.
Jonathan's voice looped in my head-Bail is impossible, Lucien.
I spent the night pacing the length of my home office. Sleep was a foreign concept, not for a man like me whose soul was being shredded.
Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Camila sitting on that cold metal bench, her hands shaking, waiting for a savior who hadn't shown up. I was too angry to think straight, too hurt by her refusal to let me fight for her, and too disgusted by the filth I'd just encountered.
Morning arrived with a gray, sickly light. By 7:00 AM, the world exploded.
EXCLUSIVE: THE FALL OF BILLIONAIRE GIRLFRIEND, CAMILA STERLING.
Metropolitan Media Network had published it as an exclusive. They had details no one should have had access to yet. The vehicular manslaughter charge, Victor Hayes' name, her mother's suicide, even speculation about our relationship being a cover for criminal activity.
"Someone had fed them information. A lot of it," I muttered to myself.
At this point, that 'someone' didn't matter. All I knew? Metropolitan is going DOWN.
I pulled up the ownership information. The CEO was a woman named Patricia Whitmore. The name tickled something in my memory. I'd met her at a charity gala years ago. She'd been drunk and loud and had cornered me about investing in her media company. I'd declined politely at first, then firmly when she wouldn't take no for an answer.
What else did I know about her?
I went to my safe and began ransacking the files of dirt I had on big men and women of NYC.
A victorious sigh escaped from my lips when I saw I had one on her in the W section.
Three years ago, she'd plagiarized an entire series of articles from a smaller publication. She'd stolen the work, published it under her own byline, and destroyed the original writer's career when they tried to call her out.
Rhys-that sick fuck-had helped me gather email proofs and draft documents with timestamps.
With the right escalation, this would ruin her.
My office door burst open. "You son of a bitch!"
Rafael stood in the doorway, Maya right behind him. They both looked exhausted, but Rafael also had anger twisted in his.
"Your best friend. The man who's stood by you through everything. And you thought I would do that to Camila? You dare accuse me of being the enemy?" he continued, advancing into the room.
"Rafael..."
"I am not done talking." He cut me off. "Do you have any idea what that felt like? Having you accuse me of something so vile? I love Camila like a sister. Maya loves her like a sister. And you threw that in our faces because you were spiraling."
"I know." My voice was flat. "You're right."
"Damn right I'm right." Rafael barked.
"It was our guy in Morocco," I said quietly. "The hacker we've used for years. He's Rhys Blackwood. The same man who's been stalking Camila. He had access to everything and leaked the video."
The anger on Rafael's face shifted to shock. Maya's hand flew to her mouth.
"Rhys?" she whispered. "The guy from Damon's party?"
"The same one. I saw him last night and he confessed everything. He's been in our systems for months. He watched us review evidence in Unit 4D. He copied the video before we could delete it."
"Does Camila know?" Maya asked.
"I..." I looked away, ashamed of my actions. "I left her at the station yesterday. I haven't seen her since."
"You didn't even call?" Maya was disappointed. "Lucien, she needs you right now."
"She doesn't want me." The words came out sharper than I intended. "She confessed. She told them everything. Jonathan says bail is impossible. She's choosing prison over letting me help her."
"So you're just, what, abandoning her?" Rafael stepped closer. "That's not the Lucien I know."
"I said she doesn't want me there!" I snapped, my composure finally fracturing. "She wants to go to prison. She's refusing bail-not that the judge would grant it anyway. She told me to stay away. She told me she wanted to pay for what she did."
The room tilted slightly as I moved. I walked toward the window, looking out at the city that felt like it was closing in on me.
"Imagine standing in front of the person you'd burn the world for," my throat tightened until the words felt like shards of glass. "And watching them choose a concrete cage over your hand. Imagine knowing that the only way to respect her is to let her destroy herself."
I leaned my forehead against the cool glass, my shoulders sagging.
The adrenaline that had sustained me through the assault on Rhys was evaporating, leaving behind a cold, aching void.
Rafael moved closer, his hand landing on my shoulder.
"Then we respect it. We support her. We make sure she knows we're here no matter what."
"I can't." I confessed.
"Yes, you can." Rafael's grip tightened. "Because that's what love is. Respecting her choice even when it hurts. Being there for her even when you disagree."
His hand moved to mine, but he flinched the moment he touched my skin.
"Jesus, Lucien. Your body is burning up..."