Chapter 13
GRANT
T he clatter of the handcuffs scraping on the metal table echoed in the cold room as Grant shifted on the uncomfortable chair. Once again, he found himself in the all-too-familiar interrogation room.
This time it felt smaller than ever, the sterile light casting long shadows that trapped him in a cage of suspicion.
He heaved a sigh as he caught sight of himself in the two-way mirror on the opposite wall. The distorted reflection amplified the tension boiling inside him.
His mind regressed to the events earlier in the evening. After his panic over nearly losing Julia in the fire, he’d confronted his ex-wife.
His heart pounded, a mix of fury and a desperate need for closure driving him forward. Memories of their shattered marriage haunted him as old wounds reignited.
“You’ve gone too far. And I’m not going to put up with it anymore. I’m going to stop you once and for all,” he said to her.
She scoffed at the statement, settling her arms across her chest. “Really? And what are you going to do about it?”
“Well, I’ve already put a stop to your little game of trying to rip my company out from under me.”
She let out a cackle. “You did or your billionaire buddy, Alex Stone did? Tell me, Grant, why do you think a man like Alex Stone would spend millions saving your company?”
He firmed his jaw, trying not to let his features twist with anger over her dig.
She tapped a finger against her chin as she stalked closer to him. “Do you think it could have something to do with your wife?”
“They’re friends,” he shot back.
Lydia glanced over her shoulder as she poured a brandy. “That’s some friend. A man willing to drop millions to buy stock in your company at what was, I assume, her request. Interesting. What would possess a man to behave that way, do you think?”
“Give it up, Lydia. You’re not going to convince me that there’s something going on between them.”
She sipped her drink as she raised her eyebrows. “Is that because you already know there is?”
He squeezed his fingers into fists. “Julia isn’t you. She wouldn’t cheat.”
Lydia heaved a sigh as she stepped to the sliding door overlooking the balcony, eyeing the city lights spread in front of them. “I don’t understand when you became so stupid, Grant. Yet, you have.”
“We’re not here to talk about me.”
“But we have to.” She twisted to face him, whirling a finger in the air. “Because all of this revolves around you. How you behaved in the past. How you continue to behave now. With the exception of that simpering little twit you married.”
Lydia let out a huff, slapping a hand on her hip. “I mean, what has to happen for you to see through her? Does she need to bed another man right in front of your eyes?”
“You’re crossing a line, Lydia. Julia would never cheat on me.”
“Never mind the fact that I have proven exactly the opposite. Have you forgotten that she’s slinked off with your own son on multiple occasions for those sweet kisses he’s always offering her?”
Grant’s jaw clenched. “I haven’t forgotten that you tried to have my son killed. And if it wasn’t for Julia, I’d be attending a funeral right now.”
She lifted her shoulders. “Just more proof. I mean, Julia was desperate enough to search for him. He must mean a great deal to her.”
“Don’t,” Grant barked, tension building between his shoulders. “Do not twist the narrative. We’re talking about the laundry list of your sins.”
He jabbed a finger toward her. “You have gone way past reasonable in this battle. And it ends now.”
“Says who?”
“Me,” he answered.
“And what are you going to do to stop me? Pimp out your wife to another man who can solve your problems?”
He struggled to stop himself from wrapping his fingers around her throat. “Look, Lydia, this war has to end. Now, what’s it going to take to do that?”
He pulled his checkbook from his pocket and opened it. “Give me a number.”
Her features melted as she burst into laughter. “You must be joking.”
“I’m not. What do you want to leave New Orleans for good?”
She clicked her tongue as she shook her head. “You must be joking. Do you really think you can buy me off?”
“Isn’t that what you’ve always wanted? Money?”
Lydia slammed her glass onto the marble wet bar and stalked a few steps closer, straightening his tie. “You see, Grant, this has always been your trouble. You’ve always thought your money would fix things. But I don’t want your money.”
“Well, that’s new. You didn’t have a problem wanting it in the past.”
“I don’t want it now,” she said, her voice a low hiss.
“Then what do you want?”
She cocked her head. “Your total destruction.”
Grant slid his eyes closed as she returned to collect her drink and settle in front of the window again. “Why? What did I ever do to you to warrant this?”
“You’re joking, right? You mean your wonderful little wife didn’t confess my secrets after our tete-a-tete at the manor?”
He narrowed his eyes. Julia hadn’t told him anything about a conversation between them. “Explain it to me because I still don’t understand.”
“You ruined me, Grant. You destroyed my soul. You and your constant abuse.”
He screwed up his face. “Are you kidding me? I never abused you.”
“Physically, no. But in every other way. You and the constant roaming eye. The late nights. You never saw the real me, Grant, only what you wanted to see.” Her voice was cold, her eyes reflecting unresolved pain. “You never gave me any recognition.”
His ex-wife’s recollection seemed seriously flawed, and he wondered for a moment if she had lost whatever mind she’d had.
“I never cheated on you. Ever. That would have been you. You were constantly throwing yourself at other men. And those late nights…they were all to support the life you wanted. The parties, the trips to Paris, the lavish dinners, the jewelry.”
“No,” she claimed with a shake of her head, “no, you wanted that.”
“Lydia, please. You can’t just say things and expect me to believe them. I may have once upon a time. I fell for the ‘I only want you’ line, but not now.”
“Grown, have we?” she taunted.
“I know what real love is now. Julia taught me.”
Lydia downed the rest of her brandy before she poured another. “Well, isn’t that lovely. Sweet little Julia taught you what love is. Maybe if you’d have known that when we were married, I wouldn’t be so hellbent on destroying you now.”
“There’s no reason for your actions. You’re just vindictive. Look at what you nearly did to your own daughter.”
Lydia glared at him. “Why don’t you ask your precious wife about that? I’m certain she’d be happy to explain.”
He knitted his brows as he pondered what she meant.
“Look, Grant, I’ve had enough of this conversation. Get out.”
“We’re not finished–”
“Get out!” she screamed. “Get out!”
“Fine. I thought we could come to some agreement now that you’ve been shut down on almost every front, but if you want to continue this war, that’s fine. Just don’t complain when I come at you with both barrels blazing.”
“As if you could. Julia may have taught you love, but she’s almost morphed you into a weak, pathetic excuse for a man. At least when you were married to me, you were ruthless. Now…you’re just sad.”
“That’s where you’re wrong,” Grant said with a shake of his head. “Sad is the farthest thing from what I am. For the first time in my life, I’m happy.”
“Yet here you are at my doorstep.”
He pressed his lips together as he stared at the floor for a moment. “You’re right. You’re not worth my time. I should be at home, enjoying my new family. Something you’ll never have.”
He spun on his heel and strode toward the door.
“Don’t be so sure,” Lydia called.
He didn’t give her the satisfaction of a response outside of the slamming door behind him.
The memory faded from his mind, and he blew out a breath as he let his head fall into his hands. The door opening drew his attention.
He slumped back in the chair as Mitchell stepped inside.
“We really need to stop meeting like this, Grant,” the man said, his features taut again.
“Sorry,” Grant said, raising his handcuffed wrists.
“I’m going to raise my rates. Three murder charges in two years.” Mitchell settled at the table and snapped open his briefcase.
“Just a minute, I haven’t been charged. Although…they probably have some evidence against me.”
Mitchell froze, his eyebrows raising. “Please tell me you are not about to confess a crime to me.”
“I’m not,” Grant said, shooting his attorney an incredulous glance. “Are you serious?”
“Grant, it’s been a long two years. Lydia has made a lot of trouble for you. I think it’s more than understandable–”
“That I pushed her off the roof? Mitch, no. Come on. You know me better than that. My temper doesn’t go beyond breaking a glass in frustration. I didn’t kill her.”
The man sucked in a breath as he uncapped his pen. “Okay. So, what evidence?”
Grant swallowed hard. “I didn’t kill her…but I didn’t say I wasn’t at her place tonight.”
Mitchell jotted down a few notes. “And you went there for?”
He shook his head, frustrated with his own behavior. “To confront her.”
“Confront her? About what’s been going on? What were you looking to get out of the meeting? Closure?”
“I wanted her to go away. I offered to pay her to leave.”
“Did she accept?”
Grant shook his head. “No. She babbled on about how she wanted my total destruction because I’d abused her during our marriage.”
Mitchell raised his gaze to Grant. “And your reaction was?”
“I told her she was just vindictive. We argued a little more and then she screamed at me to get out. I left.”
“Okay, so I’m assuming her building will have some form of security and you’ll appear on the tape. Do you know what time you were there?”
“Uh, around five thirty, maybe.”
“Got it. The footage should have the time. I just want to know where to look and whether or not we can make the case that you were not the last person to see her alive based on time of death.”