Chapter 67
Emily Windsor's POV
The chapel confrontation ended in Hank's crushing defeat, and news spread through the corporation like wildfire.
I handled the fire's insurance claims and project reconstruction with ruthless efficiency while Luke systematically absorbed the gray-market operations Hank had surrendered, preparing for their complete overhaul and legitimization.
We worked in perfect tandem—one in the spotlight, one behind the scenes.
The performance was flawless. Everyone witnessed Luke's cold brutality and saw me, the "ex-girlfriend," remain exactly what I'd always been even after falling from his graces: all business, utterly competent Miss Windsor.
But we'd been acting for so long, even I was losing track of what was real.
After the tribunal, I tried reaching Luke several times to coordinate our next moves. He deflected every attempt.
The first time, Andy's voice came through polite but distant, "Mr. Victor is in an emergency overseas video conference. He's unavailable at the moment."
The second time, his chief of staff informed me, "Mr. Victor has flown to Europe to handle post-merger affairs."
The third time, I went straight to his floor. His assistant told me he'd left the building early that morning. Whereabouts unknown.
Once was coincidence. Twice was circumstance. Three times was deliberate.
He'd vanished like smoke, withdrawing from my world entirely, leaving only rumors of his movements scattered in his wake.
I stood at my apartment's floor-to-ceiling window, watching the river of traffic below, an unfamiliar restlessness clawing at my insides.
We were supposed to be allies fighting side by side. Lovers who'd just confirmed what we meant to each other.
Yet now he'd unilaterally severed every connection between us, leaving me nothing but his coldly professional back.
This wasn't normal.
Given his obsessive need for control, even if we were acting, he'd never let me slip from his sight this long.
Unless something had happened to make him doubt me all over again.
I pulled out my phone. That photograph of me meeting Professor Douglas still sat encrypted in my files.
Was that it?
I couldn't be sure.
Being kept in the dark felt like hell—like walking through dense fog where every step might lead to disaster.
Rather than wait passively for the axe to fall, I'd go on the offensive.
I contacted Carl and asked him to monitor Hank's recent activities.
If Luke's side was an impenetrable wall, I'd find my breakthrough through the enemy instead.
Carl delivered with his usual efficiency. By the next day, he had answers.
"Hank's been keeping a low profile," Carl reported over the phone. "Sold off a few properties, mostly been at the hospital with his delinquent son." He paused. "But there's something odd. He's been in frequent contact with a South American gang called Black Serpent. Looks like he's planning something."
Black Serpent?
The name struck like lightning, splitting the fog in my mind.
I'd seen it in Professor Douglas's files.
They were one of South America's most notorious trafficking rings, specializing in supplying "merchandise" to private islands owned by the ultra-wealthy.
Hank had been neutered by Luke, stripped of power and resources. He had neither reason nor capability to partner with an international criminal organization like Black Serpent.
Unless someone else was backing him.
Someone more powerful, capable of offering protection and engineering his comeback.
That person was our real enemy.
"Emily, what's your situation? Mr. Victor's treatment of you lately..." Carl probed carefully, concern threading through his voice.
"We're fine," I cut him off, keeping my tone neutral. "Carl, keep eyes on Hank. Any movement, notify me immediately."
I hung up, unable to sit still any longer.
This lead on Hank was too critical. I had to tell Luke immediately.
I dialed his private number again. The same cold, mechanical voice answered.
"The number you have dialed is currently unavailable."
My heart sank.
Just as anxiety threatened to consume me, Carl called back. This time his voice was urgent, tense.
"Emily, Hank's on the move! Just left the hospital, didn't go home. Got into a car headed for the private airfield on the city's outskirts. Looks like he's running!"
Running?
No. He wasn't fleeing. He was meeting with Black Serpent's people—or worse, his true puppetmaster.
Once he left the country, every lead would go cold.
I didn't think twice. Grabbing my car keys, I bolted for the door. "Send me his license plate. I'm tailing him now."
"Are you insane? This is too dangerous!"
"I don't have a choice."
I started the engine while working my phone through the Bluetooth headset with practiced speed.
Luke's line was dead. I had to try the next best option.
I opened a group chat with only four members: me, Luke, Lily, and Andy.
Luke had created it himself to coordinate our staged breakup.
Taking a deep breath, I typed a concise message:
[Hank colluding with South American Black Serpent. Preparing to leave from private airfield on city outskirts. Suspected meeting with mastermind. I'm following. Situation urgent.]
The moment it sent, I pressed the red location-sharing button.
That done, I tossed the phone onto the passenger seat and gripped the steering wheel with white-knuckled hands, my gaze locked on the black Bentley ahead.
Emily, you're out of your goddamn mind.
The voice echoed in my head.
You're betting your life on a man who might not even trust you.
But I had no other choice.
More than my own safety, I feared letting this lead—this fish that had finally shown its tail—slip away.
What I feared even more was discovering that if the mastermind behind Hank truly was Luke, I needed to see the proof with my own eyes before I could give up on him completely.
Night fell. The traffic ahead thinned.
I killed my headlights and maintained a careful distance, a predator stalking through darkness, my heart hammering against my ribcage.
Luke, where the hell are you?
Will you come?
The Bentley's taillights became a red pinpoint on the horizon before turning onto a dirt road that didn't even exist on GPS.
I followed without hesitation, the car's chassis protesting as wheels bounced over the rutted, uneven surface.
This place felt like a fragment the city had forgotten—wild grass choking both sides of the road, skeletal frames of abandoned factories looming in the gloom.
Hank's car finally stopped outside a rust-eaten steel mill.
Isolated from civilization, it was the perfect place for disposing of problems. For conducting business best kept in shadows.
I cut the engine and concealed my car behind a row of discarded oil drums, leaving only a narrow gap to observe through.
Hank climbed out, scanning his surroundings with wary vigilance.
Soon, another black SUV glided silently into view, stopping directly in front of him.