They Got the Wrong Man

They Got the Wrong Man


Edward's POV

Just when I was about to leave my study and finally get some sleep, my phone buzzed.

Asher. FaceTime.

Really? If the boy missed me that much, he could’ve just come home.

I hit the answer button. His face popped out on the screen.

“What happened?” he demanded, his tone edged with the audacity of a man who thought he could murder the truth out of me. His brows were pulled so tightly together, I wondered if his forehead would split.

Calm down, boy.

I raised my brows slowly, leaning back in my chair. “What do you mean, ‘What happened?’”

The vein in his neck twitched. His tone rose. “Don’t give me that look. Please, Dad… what happened between you and Rajeever?”

I chuckled, shaking my head. “Oh, that fool. Something was supposed to happen between us. Too bad, he might be six feet under now.” I smirked, spreading my arms and raising my shoulders at the same time. The universal language for 'That’s it.' Case closed.

His face twisted. He leaned toward his screen, eyes narrowing like he wanted to crawl through the damn phone and throttle me. “Something was supposed to happen... how?”

“An alliance,” I said simply. “He wanted an alliance with me.”

“Tell me you don’t have anything to do with his death. Tell me, please.”

The desperation in his voice almost made me laugh. I leaned closer to the screen so he could see the mockery in my smile. “Is that really what you think of your father? That I go around killing men who try to work with me?”

He paused. Silent.

“I need to sleep, Asher,” I sighed, leaning back again, pretending to be the tired old man. “It’s been a long day. You can stop by for dinner anytime with—”

Beep. Beep. Beep.

The line went dead.

I sat there, blinking once at the dead screen.

How dare he? How dare my son cut me off when I was still speaking?

Seems Asher’s beginning to grow wings. He forgets that I hold his future in my hands. Forgetting that every shiny penny he flaunts today is soaked in my sweat, in my blood. With the snap of my fingers, I could shut his world down.

Everything I do—everything I ever did—was for him. For this family. For our empire.

Rajeever deserved to die. He dared to dig into my life. Into me. Edward Reyes.

A man with the eyes of an eagle, the teeth of a wolf, and the temper of a lion. I devour anyone foolish enough to step into my path. Including family.

That’s the rule of survival. That’s the legacy. That’s what keeps the Reyes name going.

Take my brother Lucas, for example. Years ago, he thought he could change things, soften the way we ran business. Foolish man. He wanted to let off investors who backed out of an alliance with us after we’d shown them some of our secrets.

Why would anyone walk away after that? Why betray us once they’d seen the plans, the blueprints, and the strategy? No. That wasn’t just betrayal. That was a death wish.

I told Lucas to let things be. I begged him to leave the system the way it was. But the man was stubborn. So stubborn, he even threatened me. Me. He said if I didn’t comply, he’d report to the FBI.

“Don’t make me drag you down that way,” he’d warned, his eyes bulging, his face twisted in moral righteousness.

Drag me down? So silly of him.

That night after he visited, he was ready to leave, but it started raining so hard he stayed back. Poor Lucas. He asked for dinner. He got it.

And that dinner? That was his last.

It was never murder. Not in my eyes. The man already had high blood pressure. Doctors had warned him a thousand times to slow down, to take a break, but Lucas never trusted me enough to step aside.

So I did what had to be done. Call it mercy, if you will. I only sped up the inevitable.

When Lucas died, Pinnacle Holdings flourished. Branches opened across the country, then beyond. My empire spread like fire across dry Nevada grass.

And it will keep spreading until the world bows at my feet. Until every man, woman, and child recognises the truth….

That the Reyes family is untouchable.

And anyone who dares forget it… well.

They end up just like Lucas. Just like Rajeever and many others.

Dead.

\-----

Asher’s POV

“Shit!” I hissed, pressing the power button on the side of my phone. Nothing. The damn thing had gone dead, and I hadn’t even noticed the battery running low.

Of course it had to die right in the middle of a call with Dad.

Great. Just great.

I ran a hand through my hair, exhaling hard. I wonder if he’ll take that the wrong way. Cutting him off mid-sentence? He’s not exactly the type of man who likes being interrupted.

And then there was the thought that made my stomach twist… how silly of me to even accuse him of having a hand in Rajeever’s death.

The old man probably has enemies stacked all over the globe. Men like him attract trouble without even trying. Maybe Rajeever’s fate was simply inevitable.

Still… the timing? The very same week he met Dad, the man turned out dead? Coincidence doesn’t sit well with me.

I clenched my jaw. I just hope he wasn’t lying about not being involved in it. I lashed out, and maybe I went too far. I’ll have to apologise later.

“Uggh, silly me,” I muttered under my breath.

It was late already, the kind of late where silence hums through the building and every shadow feels longer. I stacked the files I’d need at home into my arm.

When I was done, I reached for the landline to call my PA. The receiver was barely in my hand when….

BANG!

The office door burst open.

Brooklyn’s voice rang out first, frantic. “You can’t just walk in here!”

But three men had already flooded into my office—two in uniform, one in plain clothes. Authority is written all over them.

I froze. Not in fear, but in shock. Their steps carried the weight of something serious, something meant to rattle me.

The man in the middle spoke, giving a professional yet polite nod. “I’m Detective Davis. Sorry to barge into your office like this, Mr Reyes, but you’re a suspect in the murder of the late Mr Rajeever Malhotra. You’ll need to remain silent as—”

“Enough.” I cut him off, raising a palm. “I know the law.”

My eyes flicked to Brooklyn. She was pale, fidgeting, and panic was written all over her face. Poor girl.

“Call Elias. Tell him to get my lawyer. Now.”

“Yes, sir,” she stammered, nodding rapidly, already fumbling for her phone.

I turned back to the officers, meeting their stares head-on. My heart thudded hard, but I refused to show it. Whatever game this was, whatever lies were being spun, I wasn’t going to give them the satisfaction of seeing me sweat.

So, just like that, I straightened my suit jacket, squared my shoulders, and walked out with them.

Let's see what this is all about.