Chapter Nineteen Cole
M y office door opens without a knock. Julian’s never respected boundaries. Not in the decade we worked together, and certainly not now.
“Making me come to you?” He drops into the chair across from my desk, sprawling like he owns it. Like he still owns any part of this. “Bit dramatic, don’t you think?”
I continue reading the document in front of me for another thirty seconds before looking up. “You’re the one who wanted a meeting.”
“In the boardroom. With the full board present.” His smile doesn’t reach his eyes. “But you’ve always preferred to handle things... privately.”
“Some conversations shouldn’t have witnesses.”
He laughs, but there’s an edge to it. “Always so cautious. So controlled. It’s that control I’ve come for today, Cole.”
The morning sun catches on the steel and glass buildings outside my window. I’ve had this office for fifteen years, watched the skyline change, watched empires rise and fall. But Julian didn’t come here to admire the view.
“I want what’s mine,” Julian says, his voice deceptively calm. “Claire’s designs. The case.”
“We’ve been over this,” I say. “Nothing in that case belongs to you.”
His jaw tightens. “She was my wife.”
“Unfortunately.”
“You have no reason to hold on to that case.”
“How about Claire wouldn’t want you to have them. She gave them to me.”
“Claire is dead. I’m her husband so they belong to me.”
I take a deep breath, determined to not lose my shit in this exchange. “She was going to divorce you, and you and I both know it.”
“Only because you got into her head.” He rolls his eyes. “The Boy Scout. Always doing what you feel is right. And then you got her on your side.”
“We wanted nothing to do with blood diamonds. Smuggled goods! And you fucking knew it. You tried to taint her name and her brand. I wasn’t going to allow it. And when she found out, saw you for what you are—”
“You shouldn’t have gotten involved!” Julian’s face turns red as sweat beads on his temples, a tell that I’m getting to him.
I lean back in my chair, letting him see how little his words affect me. “Are you done? You’re starting to sound like a B-rate movie villain.”
“You think this is funny?”
“I think you’re a problem I need to deal with before my nine o’clock.” I check my watch. “But maybe I should reconsider my priorities.”
The tension in the room thickens. Julian’s always had a way of filling a space with his anger, letting it seep into every corner.
“Five years, Cole,” he says, his voice tight. “Five years since her accident, and you’ve kept her final collection locked away where no one can see it. Where I can’t touch it.”
“That’s how it has to be.”
Julian goes quiet, his eyes fixed on something distant. When he speaks again, his voice has changed, almost soft with memory.
“Remember when I found you? Barely twenty-five, brilliant but broke.” His voice shifts to something almost nostalgic. “You had that pathetic little office in Brooklyn. I knew you had the eye for this business.” He smiles thinly. “I made you, Cole. I brought you into our world. Into Claire’s world.”
“You saw an opportunity,” I correct him. “Don’t pretend it was charity.”
Julian’s eyes drift to the desk between us.
“You insisted on keeping this exact desk. The one where we made our first real deal.” His gaze shifts to the right drawer. “The one where you started keeping the gun, after Moscow.” He meets my eyes. “Still in there, isn’t it? Still loaded?”
I don’t answer. We both know it’s there. The weight of it has been a constant reminder of what this business used to be. What I used to be.
“But you’d never use it, would you?” Julian’s voice drips contempt.
“Not the great Cole Asher. Too civilized now. Too weak.” He stands, planting his hands on my desk.
“I built this business with you. The real business. The one that got us here. While you were playing with spreadsheets, I was getting my hands dirty. Making the hard choices.”
“You mean killing people who got in your way.”
“I did what was necessary. What you couldn’t stomach doing yourself.” He straightens.
“I want that case, Cole. Those designs are my legacy.”
“You mean you want to pass them off as newly discovered designs,” I say coldly. “Profit from her name one more time.”
“I know that’s what you plan on doing! I’ve heard you have a top secret collection you’re working on. I know what you’re doing. I’m not fucking stupid. Those designs aren’t yours to use as your own. They’re my right. She was my wife.”
“And now she’s gone.” The accusation remains unspoken between us.
He straightens. “You always were a self-righteous little prick.”
I sigh. “Are you done? Because I am.” I’m not going to give Julian even a sliver of information on what I have planned. Let him think what he wants.
I watch him pace, three steps left, three steps right. The same pattern he’s followed since we were young and hungry, plotting our way to the top. Some habits die hard.
“You know I won’t stop,” Julian adds. “If I can’t have the originals, I’ll create them.
The ‘Immortal Claire Collection’ launches in February one way or the other.
Pieces she was ‘working on’ before her accident.
” His smile cuts like glass. “The world is so hungry for her genius, they’ll believe anything. ”
“Forgeries,” I say flatly.
“Call it what you want. Who could prove otherwise? You? The man who kept her final work hidden for five years? And you can try to beat me to the punch with her half-finished stuff, but there’s no way you can beat me to February.”
I keep my expression neutral despite the contempt rising within me.
“I’ll have those designs, Cole. One way or another.”
“The case will stay locked.”
He laughs, cold and knowing. “You know... when Claire died”—his voice catches, a perfect performance of grief—“I needed time. And you used it against me. Turned everything I built into your sanitized corporate fantasy.”
“When she went off that cliff,” I say carefully, watching his face.
His face goes still, eyes cold. “Black ice. A tragic accident.”
My hands stay flat on the desk. Perfectly still. But something cold settles in my chest.
He stares at me for a long moment. “When I’m done, everyone will remember Claire’s genius as mine to share with the world. You’ll be a footnote. A petty business rival who tried to keep her light hidden.”
I stay seated, keeping my voice level. “You can try.”
“Oh, I’ll do more than try.” He heads for the door, then pauses. “You know there are a lot of young designers out there that come close to Claire’s designs. Of course, they aren’t Claire, but they can try. And well... if they fail, there’s always another one. Disposable. Everyone is disposable.”
The door closes behind him. I open the right drawer, running my fingers over the cold metal beneath the files before reaching for my phone.
Knox answers on the first ring. “My office. Now.”
He appears within minutes, closing the door behind him. Knox hasn’t changed since he left Special Forces—same crew cut, same watchful eyes, same ability to blend into the background until needed.
“The man’s unhinged.” I keep my voice low. “He knows about the line and the launch but hasn’t connected all the dots yet.”
Knox nods once. “Does he know about Sloane?”
“No. He thinks I’m going to steal Claire’s designs for this launch.
Do what he wants to do.” I slide the drawer shut.
“He still plans to launch the fake Claire line. He mentioned he had designers trying to mimic her work. But he still has the February date. So as long as we beat him to the date... But—”
“You’re worried about Sloane?”
“Double her security detail. But quietly. She doesn’t need to know about any of this. He also mentioned ‘disposable designers.’ I’m not sure what that’s all about, but can you look into it?”
Knox leaves without another word. He understands what’s at stake. He was there when Julian started pushing boundaries, when accidents started happening to our competitors. When those accidents turned into something darker.
After Knox leaves, I stand at the window overlooking the city. The streets below are starting to fill with morning traffic. Somewhere out there, Julian’s already putting his next move into play. He’s too close to what I care about most. First Claire’s designs, and now Sloane herself.
I grab my phone, pulling up the security feed of Sloane’s studio.
She’s working, completely absorbed in her designs, unaware of the danger circling closer.
The knife twist of guilt in my gut is unexpected.
I brought her into this war with Julian without telling her the full truth.
I told myself it was to protect her, but was it?
Or was it to protect my chance at finally destroying him?
Five years I’ve waited, building toward this moment. Sloane’s collection replacing Julian’s forged Claire pieces, hitting him where it hurts. But watching her work, I realize with sudden clarity: If it comes down to revenge or her safety, there’s no choice at all.
If he touches what’s mine, I’ll remind him exactly who he taught me to be.