Chapter 254

Chapter 254
Noah

The security footage played on my laptop, grainy but unmistakable. I watched it for the third time, my fingers gripping the edge of my desk so hard they turned white.

"Play it again, Parker," I ordered, my voice tight.

He hesitated. "Sir, you've already—"

"Again."

Parker nodded, tapping a few keys. The video restarted, showing the rooftop of Jenny's apartment building. Jenny paced nervously, checking her phone. Then Lucy appeared, elegant as always in her designer clothes, but her body language was predatory. They spoke, gestures becoming increasingly agitated.

There was no audio, but I didn't need to hear the words. Lucy's face contorted with rage before she suddenly lunged forward, pushing Jenny with both hands. Jenny stumbled backward, her arms windmilling desperately before she disappeared over the edge.

Her scream, though absent from the recording, echoed in my imagination.

"Finally," I whispered, clenching my fist. "We've got you, you psychopath."

Parker cleared his throat. "The neighbor who recorded this was afraid to come forward. He thought Ms. Manning might target him next."

"Smart man." I closed the laptop with a decisive snap. "Call Rebecca. We're holding an emergency press conference in two hours."

---

The press room was packed, cameras flashing as I stepped up to the podium. Rebecca had arranged everything perfectly, as usual. The screen behind me remained dark, ready for the damning footage.

"Thank you all for coming on such short notice," I began, my voice steady despite the rage still simmering beneath my calm exterior. "Today, York Ventures must share disturbing information regarding the death of Jennifer White."

The room quieted. Jenny's death had been big news when it happened—a young woman with her whole life ahead of her, mysteriously fallen from a rooftop. The police had ruled it a suicide, despite inconsistencies.

"We have obtained conclusive evidence that Jennifer White did not commit suicide, but was murdered." Murmurs rippled through the crowd. "Furthermore, we have identified her killer."

I nodded to Parker, who started the video. Gasps filled the room as Lucy's face appeared on screen, followed by her violent actions. I'd instructed Parker to cut the footage just before Jenny disappeared over the edge—some things were too horrific for public consumption.

"The woman you see is Lucy Manning, known to many as a successful recording artist. What many don't know is that Lucy Manning was born Lucia York, the illegitimate daughter of Elizabeth York."

The revelation sent the room into chaos. Reporters shouted questions, cameras flashed frantically. I let the storm rage for a moment before raising my hand.

"Ms. Manning's biological connection to the York family gave her access and influence she used to manipulate and, ultimately, to kill. Jennifer White discovered something Lucy wanted kept hidden, and paid with her life."

---

I was reviewing Mike's monitoring reports when Parker entered without knocking—something he never did.

"Sir, they've found Lucy Manning."

My head snapped up. "Where?"

"In the woods outside Westchester. A hiker found her." Parker's expression was grim. "She's dead, sir. Preliminary report suggests suicide."

I sat back, a hollow feeling in my chest. I'd wanted justice, not another death. "Any signs of foul play?"

"None so far. She left a note in her car. They're analyzing it now."

I nodded slowly. "Keep me updated. And Parker? Not a word to my mother."

Too late. My phone lit up with Elizabeth's name. I ignored it, tucking Mike's reports into my briefcase.

"I need to get back to the hospital," I said, standing. "Emma's waiting."

Emma

I sat on the hospital bed, cradling Mike against my chest, humming a soft lullaby my mother used to sing to me. His tiny fingers wrapped around mine with surprising strength, his blue eyes—so much like Noah's—fluttering closed as he drifted toward sleep. I traced the perfect curve of his cheek, marveling at how someone so small could hold my entire heart.

A movement at the door caught my attention. Noah stood there, watching us, his eyes soft in a way I rarely saw in public. There was something in his expression that made my breath catch—a tenderness mingled with fierce protectiveness that sent warmth spreading through my chest.

"Hey you," I said softly, my lips curving into a smile. "Our little man finally decided to take a break from his crying marathon."

Noah crossed the room, his footsteps quiet on the hospital floor. He leaned down, one hand cupping my face as he pressed a lingering kiss to my forehead. The scent of his cologne—woodsy and familiar—enveloped me, making me realize how much I'd missed him.

"Everything handled?" I asked, leaning into his touch.

His thumb stroked my cheek. "It's all over now, sweetheart," he murmured, his voice a low rumble that I felt as much as heard.

I studied his face, noting the shadows under his eyes, the tension around his mouth despite his attempt to hide it. My free hand reached up to smooth the furrow between his brows. "Lucy?"

"We found her. She can't hurt anyone anymore." His eyes darkened momentarily before returning to me, softening as they took in my face.

I nodded, accepting this without pressing for details. Something in his tone told me not to ask, at least not now. I looked down at our son, gently running my finger along his tiny arm. "Someone missed his daddy today. Wouldn't stop fussing until just before you arrived."

"Just him?" Noah asked, his lips quirking up at one corner, a hint of the playfulness that he showed only with me.

I pretended to consider, tilting my head. "Maybe I missed you a little too," I admitted, feeling a blush warm my cheeks. "The room feels different when you're not in it."

"Better or worse?" he teased, settling beside me on the bed, our shoulders touching.

"Quieter," I replied with a small laugh. "But not better."

He smiled—a real smile that reached his eyes—and carefully took Mike from my arms. Our son looked even smaller against Noah's broad chest, tiny face peaceful in sleep. Noah's expression as he gazed down at Mike made my heart flip; his usual mask of control completely gone, replaced with undisguised wonder.

"He has your nose," Noah whispered, gently tracing Mike's features.

"But your eyes," I countered, leaning against Noah's shoulder to gaze at our son. "And hopefully your brains for numbers."

"God, I hope not," Noah said with a soft chuckle. "One workaholic in the family is enough." He looked up at me, his eyes suddenly serious. "You look exhausted, Em. Have you slept at all?"

I shook my head, stifling a yawn. "How can I sleep? Every tiny noise he makes, I'm wide awake, checking to make sure he's breathing."

Noah shifted, wrapping his free arm around me and pulling me closer against his side. "That's why I'm here now," he said, dropping a kiss on the top of my head. "You sleep. I'll watch over both of you."

I hesitated, then nestled into his warmth. "You don't have to do everything yourself, you know," I murmured against his shirt.

"I know," he said softly, his fingers gently stroking my hair. "But I want to. Let me take care of you two for a while."