Chapter 75
Emily Windsor's POV
"Bet you didn't see that coming, did you?" Hank's voice cracked with venomous triumph. "The woman you treasure like a precious jewel—she's harboring a blood feud! So tell me, Luke, when she finally gets her hands on enough evidence to destroy the Victor family... who do you think she'll stab first?"
Luke stood motionless, his towering silhouette casting a somber shadow beneath the deck lights.
My fingers had gone white-knuckled around the mouse. I stared at the screen, my heart hammering so violently it felt like it would shatter my ribs.
The silence stretched on, suffocating.
Finally, Luke spoke.
His voice was soft, yet it seared through me like a red-hot brand pressed against bare skin.
"Then that's a debt I owe her."
Hank's laughter died instantly, as if someone had wrapped a fist around his throat.
Luke rose to his feet. He didn't spare Hank another glance—as if the man were nothing more than disposable trash.
Instead, he turned to face our surveillance cameras. Those unfathomable eyes pierced through the screen, across the vast distance between Geneva and New York, and locked onto mine with unerring precision.
"Hank," he said, his back to the stunned old man, each word measured and deliberate, carrying clearly across the silent waters, "Did you really think I came here tonight just to arrest you?"
The command center fell deathly silent, save for the monotonous hum of electronics.
And I could only stare at the screen.
At that man's solitary figure. At those words—so casually spoken, yet heavy enough to crush mountains.
'Then that's a debt I owe her.'
He hadn't even turned around. Hadn't asked for confirmation. He'd simply accepted the deepest, most painful secret buried in my heart, along with all the sins his name carried, and shouldered them without hesitation.
Hank's manic laughter had stopped. In its place was the hollow despair of a man whose entire worldview had just collapsed.
He stared at Luke, desperately searching that impassive face for even a flicker of doubt.
He found none.
Luke's gaze pierced through the cold lens, through the ten thousand miles separating Geneva from New York, and held mine with absolute certainty. Beneath that unwavering stare churned a tempest—pain, regret, and an iron resolve that brooked no argument.
He was telling me, 'Don't be afraid. I'm here.'
He was announcing to both me and Hank that this operation had never been about settling old scores.
He was using Hank's greed and betrayal to sever the Victor family's last ties to its dark past—to carve out a new path for all of us.
Hank seemed to deflate all at once. When the FBI agents hauled him to his feet, he was like a boneless sack of flesh.
He looked at Luke one final time. In those clouded eyes, the hatred had faded, leaving only a gray, vacant bewilderment. He'd lost—not to Luke's tactics, but to something he could never comprehend: trust and love.
The operation-complete signal crackled through the speakers. The tension in the command center released like a snapped wire.
Lily exhaled deeply. She glanced at me, lips parting as if to speak, but ultimately said nothing. She grabbed her coat and walked out in silence.
I understood her unspoken words.
What lay between us now wasn't a simple clash of loyalties—it was a historical wound, stained with blood.
---
Hank was formally arrested by the FBI on multiple charges: economic crimes, international money laundering, and conspiracy to endanger national security. What awaited him was life imprisonment without light or hope.
The dossier documenting the Victor family's dark origins was seized as key evidence.
Luke had already arranged for his legal team to negotiate with the authorities, ensuring that the portions containing sensitive business secrets and those decades-old incidents would never see the light of day.
Everything had settled into place.
But the real war had only just begun.
---
The day after we returned to New York, a media firestorm erupted without warning.
News of the Geneva operation had leaked—but the story had been grotesquely twisted.
The headlines screamed: Family Civil War: Victor Heir Pursues Veteran Executive Across Borders in Brutal Crackdown
The photos were long-range shots capturing FBI agents restraining Hank and Luke's face—cold, merciless, inhuman.
In the article, Hank became a tragic elder statesman who'd served the family faithfully, only to be purged for threatening the young heir's power.
Luke, meanwhile, was painted as a bloodthirsty tyrant willing to employ violent tactics to consolidate control.
Every line reeked of manipulation, steering public perception toward the darkest possible interpretation—framing the Victor family's business dealings as little more than mafia-style gang warfare.
It didn't take a genius to figure out who was behind it.
The Lowe family.
Unable to borrow the FBI's blade, they'd turned to the soft knife of public opinion instead—killing reputations in broad daylight.
"Pathetic clowns," Luke muttered, glancing at the tablet screen before shutting it off with complete disinterest. His expression didn't even flicker.
To him, this level of smear campaign wasn't worth a fraction of the attention he'd give a single erroneous financial report.
But I couldn't brush it off so easily.
---
Late that night, I stood before the floor-to-ceiling windows in the study, scrolling through the avalanche of hateful comments on my phone, frustration gnawing at me.
I wasn't upset about the ignorant vitriol. What infuriated me was that the Lowe family's underhanded tactics were poisoning everything we'd fought so hard to achieve.
Luke was trying to pull the Victor family out of the muck. They just wanted to drown us in filth again.
Soft footsteps sounded behind me. A familiar cashmere throw, carrying the cool scent of cedarwood, draped gently over my shoulders.
"Still reading that garbage?" Luke's voice came from above me, tinged with exasperation.
"Doesn't it make you angry?" I turned to face him, lifting my gaze. "They're painting you as a monster."
"I already am one," he replied matter-of-factly, plucking the phone from my hand and tossing it onto the sofa. "Emily, lions don't concern themselves with the opinions of sheep."
"But I care." I looked at him, stubborn. "I don't want you carrying new sins for the Victor family's sake."
He fell silent. Those deep eyes studied me in the darkness. After a long moment, he let out a low, quiet laugh.
"All right," he said, reaching out to pinch my cheek, his tone indulgent. "Since my Miss Windsor cares so much, I'll give them a chance to see the truth."
He walked to his desk and opened his laptop, pulling up an electronic invitation.
"Three days from now, there's a business gala on a cruise ship. Several of New York's largest multinational corporations will be attending." He turned the screen toward me. Gold-embossed lettering gleamed in the dim light. "I'm going to announce the company's new quarterly strategy—and completely redefine how the world sees the Victor family."
I immediately grasped his intent.
Rather than wrestling in the mud with his enemies, he'd step onto the brightest, highest stage and let sheer excellence and a transformed image shatter every lie.
"It's the perfect move," I agreed.
"There's just one thing missing." Luke's eyes settled on me, a knowing smile tugging at his lips.
The study door opened. Andy wheeled in a garment rack draped in a white dust cover, beneath which the outline of an exquisitely tailored gown was barely visible.
Luke walked over and personally unzipped the cover.
A deep, celestial midnight blue surged into view.
It was a velvet gown—sleek, minimalist, yet radiating undeniable presence. Tiny diamonds scattered across the fabric caught the light like crushed stars from an entire galaxy, breathtakingly beautiful.
"Miss Windsor," Luke said, leaning casually against the rack, his gaze blazing brighter than any diamond. "I've built you a stage. Now I'm formally inviting my leading lady to step into the spotlight with me."