Chapter 64
Luke Victor's POV
The aftermath of the warehouse fire was extensive. By evening, I'd made it back to the estate.
I'd just wrapped up a video conference in my study when Lily stormed in like a hurricane, fury and panic written all over her face.
"Luke!" She slammed her phone down on my mahogany desk hard enough to make the wood groan. "You owe me an explanation. Right now."
My gaze shifted from the computer screen to the phone.
A series of photographs stared back at me. Clearly taken from a distance. Surveillance shots.
In them, Emily stood outside the New York Public Library, deep in conversation with an older white man in a tailored suit.
Even from afar, the intensity of their exchange was unmistakable.
My pupils contracted—just for a fraction of a second.
Professor Douglas.
Emily's mentor. And a consultant for the Federal Bureau of Investigation.
My fingers tightened imperceptibly on the armrest. Inside, a boulder had been dropped into still water, sending shockwaves through every nerve.
This little charade Emily and I had been performing—it was meant to draw out our enemies lurking in the shadows. But I never expected Emily to actually be meeting with the FBI.
Rage. And something unfamiliar. Something that felt dangerously close to panic.
It coiled around my chest like strangling vines.
How much had she kept from me? In this elaborate performance, who was playing whom?
But the storm raging inside me vanished the moment I looked up. My expression remained perfectly smooth. Controlled. I met my sister's eyes with practiced calm.
"I've told you from the beginning—this woman is poison!" Lily's voice rose, her composure cracking further at my lack of reaction. "She's wielding your authority like a weapon all over the company, and now she's secretly meeting with the goddamn FBI! Luke, wake up! She's going to throw you to the wolves! She wants to see you behind bars!"
Her voice trembled with barely suppressed emotion.
"I'm the one who arranged that meeting."
My voice came out low. Measured. Like dropping an anchor into churning waters.
Lily froze. Her face went slack with disbelief. "What... what did you just say?"
"Why do you think Hank and his cronies had the guts to torch that warehouse?" I leaned back into my leather chair, the picture of casual power. But my eyes stayed sharp. Predatory. "Because they think this is just an internal Victor family squabble. They think once they take me down, they can go back to business as usual."
I let that sink in before continuing.
"But what if the people gunning for them aren't just me? What if the FBI wants them buried too?"
The words hit Lily like a thunderclap.
"You're... working with the FBI?"
"Not working with them. Using them." I corrected her, my fingertips drumming a slow rhythm on the desk—like tapping out the death knell for our enemies. "Mother's dying wish was to see us live in the light, wasn't it? Well, I'm simply inviting the brightest spotlight I can find to shine into every dark corner of the Victor empire. Let it burn away everything that can't survive scrutiny. One clean sweep."
My words hit their mark. I could see them resonate with the deepest, most stubborn part of Lily's heart—the part that still mourned our mother.
"Emily." My gaze returned to the photograph, my tone giving away nothing. "She's a lawyer. She's the perfect executor for this plan. She knows exactly where the legal boundaries are. She can help us contain the fire to those black-market operations without letting it spread to the company's legitimate foundation. Having her interface with federal authorities is far safer than me doing it directly."
The explanation was airtight. It fit seamlessly with my reputation for calculated strategy and our shared goal of legitimizing the family business.
The rage and suspicion slowly drained from Lily's face, replaced by reluctant understanding.
"But..." She wasn't ready to let it go entirely. "How can you be sure she won't turn on you?"
"What I want to know," I said, pivoting sharply, my gaze boring into her, "is who gave you these photos?"
I pushed the phone back across the desk toward her, my voice dropping several degrees. "The camera was aimed at Emily, but the real target was me. They don't dare come at me directly, so they're trying to use you to shake my judgment. Make me second-guess myself. Yesterday they burned a warehouse. Today they're feeding you surveillance photos. Their endgame has been the same from the start—get Emily away from me."
Lily's breath caught.
"That bastard Hank!" She bit out the words like a curse, fury reigniting in her eyes.
"Find out who sent it." My voice carried no warmth whatsoever. "Use Andy's team. I'll give you full clearance. Dig up whoever's behind that email. I want to see exactly who's so desperate to watch us tear each other apart."
"I'm on it!" Lily snatched up her phone and bolted from the room without another word.
The study door closed, sealing me off from the outside world.
The mask of control I'd worn so carefully finally cracked. Shattered.
I pulled out my own phone and opened that photograph again. My thumb moved across the screen, tracing the outline of Emily's face over and over. Harder than necessary.
I'd defended her. Spun an elaborate cover story. Built an ironclad shield around her without a single gap.
Only I knew that the moment I saw her standing with another man, even if he was a gray-haired old man, the beast in my heart named jealousy and possessiveness nearly broke free from the cage of reason.
I trusted her analytical mind. Her professional integrity. I'd stake the entire future of Victor Group on her abilities.
But I couldn't tolerate her having secrets. Anything beyond my control.
Less than thirty minutes later, Lily returned. Her anger had intensified, but now it was mixed with grim satisfaction.
"Luke, you were right!" She thrust a freshly compiled investigation report in front of me. "The email was routed through multiple servers to cover its tracks, but the final trace leads back to a machine in Hank's son-in-law's company. The same location that forged those fake charges against you!"
Irrefutable evidence.
The last thread of Lily's doubt evaporated.
She was now completely convinced of my "plan" and even more certain that Hank's faction was running out of moves, resorting to pathetic attempts to drive a wedge between us.
"Those decrepit old bastards!" she spat. Then her eyes found mine again, something complicated flickering in them. "I was too impulsive this time."
She didn't apologize for suspecting Emily. But for Lily, admitting she'd been impulsive was as close to an apology as I'd ever get.
"Not your fault," I said, reining in my thoughts and returning to that cold, hard exterior. "They were counting on exactly that reaction."
I paused, meeting her gaze with absolute seriousness. "Lily, listen to me. From this moment forward, Emily is our most critical asset. She's the sharpest blade we have. No matter what you see or hear, until we've cleared out every last rat in this house, you have one job—trust her. And protect her."
It was the first time I'd ever asked Lily—demanded she protect another woman with that kind of gravity.
"I understand." Lily gave a curt nod and left.
The study fell silent once more.
I sank back into my chair and closed my eyes. But the photograph replayed behind my eyelids on an endless loop.
I'd paved the road for her. Played my part flawlessly. Even convinced my most difficult critic—Lily—to stand down.
But my Miss Windsor, my sharpest weapon... was she truly carving a path forward for me?
Or was she digging my grave in the dark?
The thought lodged itself in my chest like a poisoned needle—not fatal, but a slow, relentless ache that refused to fade.