Chapter 22
Axel
Iwatch her disappear up the stairs with Rowan, every muscle pulled tight with the need to follow, to fix this, but I force myself still, hands curling into fists at my sides just to keep from going after her, and after him.
The sound of their apartment door closing, three distinct clicks of the locks engaging, feels like a physical blow.
"Fuck!" I slam my fist against the side of my truck, skin splitting over my knuckles as a sharp ache bites up through my wrist and into my forearm. I welcome it, almost do it again, but stop myself. Pain won't fix this. Nothing will fix this right now.
I climb into my truck but don't start the engine.
My hands are shaking too badly to drive.
The image of Elliot's smug face burns in my mind, that calculated smirk, the casual way he threatened her, called her his wife.
I should have hit him. Should have wiped that superior look off his face with my fist.
No. That would have made everything worse. Given him more ammunition against Sadie.
I grip the steering wheel until my knuckles turn white, trying to control the violent thoughts racing through my mind. I've never wanted to hurt someone the way I want to hurt Elliot. Never felt this kind of primal, protective rage before.
I'll see you in court, if you show up. His words echo in my head, and the rage I'd been clinging to snaps, my throat going tight as the real danger clicks into focus, Sadie, Poppy, both of them suddenly in his crosshairs.
What if he tries to take Poppy before the hearing? What if he hurts Sadie?
I could stop him. Not just temporarily, not just with my fists, but permanently.
The Slade name carries weight. Real weight.
The kind that opens doors, that makes problems disappear.
My family has resources most people can't even imagine: lawyers, security teams, connections that reach into every corner of American business and politics.
One phone call to my father, and Elliot would find himself under investigation for tax fraud within twenty-four hours.
One conversation with my connection at the Justice Department, and suddenly Elliot's business dealings would be scrutinized with a microscope.
I could destroy his reputation, his livelihood, his freedom, all without leaving this parking lot.
The power I've always taken for granted, always half rejected out of some misplaced desire to "make it on my own," suddenly feels like the most valuable thing I possess. Because I could use it to protect Sadie. To protect Poppy.
But that's the problem, isn't it? Sadie isn't mine. She made that painfully clear tonight.
I trusted you. I let you in. And you lied to me.
Her words cut deeper than any physical blow.
She’s right. I fucked up. The moment she looked at me like I was no better than him, it burned deeper than any wound I’ve ever had. My chest is hollow, gut twisted with the ache of wanting her, needing her trust again.
I slam my palm against the steering wheel, the sharp sound splitting the silence inside the truck. I fucked up. Royally, completely fucked up. But I can still fix this. I can still protect her, even if she never speaks to me again.
I pull out my phone and scroll to a contact I rarely use. Richard Alderman, the family's lead attorney. The man who's quietly cleaned up Slade family messes for three generations. It's nearly midnight, but I know he'll answer. He always answers.
"Axel." His voice comes through after just one ring, alert despite the hour. "This is unexpected."
"I need help," I say, not bothering with pleasantries. "Not for me. For someone else."
"I see." His tone shifts subtly, becoming more professional. "What kind of help are we talking about?"
I hesitate only a moment. "There's a custody situation. A woman I… care about. Her ex-husband is threatening to take her daughter, pressing criminal charges to force her compliance."
"And you want me to intervene."
"I want him ruined," I say, my voice almost a growl. "I want him to wake up every fucking day wishing he’d never even looked her way. Make him regret it."
He pauses before responding. "This sounds personal, Axel."
"It is." I don't bother denying it. "Can you help?"
"That depends. Who the hell am I burying for you, and how deep do you want him to stay down?"
"His name is Elliot. I don't know his last name yet—but I will by morning. He's from Oregon, works in finance or banking. Wealthy, but not Slade wealthy. Connected, but not Slade connected."
"I see." Another pause. "And the alleged criminal charges?"
"He claims she stole money from him. Company funds. But she says it was her inheritance that he controlled."
"Financial cases can be complicated," Alderman says carefully. "Especially when marriages are involved."
"I don't care how complicated it is," I snap. "I need this handled. Whatever it costs."
"I'll see what I can do," Alderman says, his voice carefully neutral. "But I should warn you, Axel. Direct financial intervention in a custody case can backfire spectacularly."
"What do you mean?" I grip the phone tighter, staring up at the light still burning in Sadie's apartment.
"If you’re planning to throw money at this asshole, don’t. You want him handled, I’ll find a way to make it hurt that doesn’t blow back on you."
I hadn't considered that. In my mind, everything seemed simple, throw enough money at the problem until it goes away. That's the Slade family way, after all.
"Then what do you suggest?" I ask, frustration making my voice sharp.
"Information first," Alderman says. "We need to know exactly what we're dealing with. Court documents, financial records, the specifics of any restraining orders. Then we can develop a strategy that won't put you, or this woman, in legal jeopardy."
I rub my forehead, trying to think clearly through the fog of anger and fear. "Okay. Information. I can get that."
"Let me be very clear, Axel. Do not approach this man directly. Do not threaten him. Do not offer him money. Any of those actions could make the situation worse for everyone involved."
"I get it," I snap, though part of me is still fantasizing about introducing Elliot's face to my fist. "But I need to do something. He's threatening to take her daughter. He's been stalking her, taking pictures of them."
Alderman sighs. "That's concerning, certainly. Have the police been notified?"
"They're on their way now, I think. But I don't know if that will be enough."
"It's a start. Documentation is crucial in these cases."
I think of the envelope still clutched in Sadie's hand, the photo with its menacing red message. At least that's evidence now, not hidden in my jacket pocket.
"I need more," I say firmly. "I need to know everything about this guy, his weaknesses, his vulnerabilities, anything we can use against him."
"That sounds like you're requesting surveillance," Alderman says carefully.
"Call it what you want. I need leverage."
There's a long pause. "Axel, I understand you're upset—but what you're suggesting—"
"I'm not suggesting anything illegal," I interrupt. "Just information gathering. Background research."
"Even so, I must caution you against direct involvement in this matter. The potential for complicating her legal position—"
"Cut the lawyer speak," I snap. "Can you connect me with someone who can get this information or not?"
Another pause, longer this time. "I have contacts who specialize in… discreet information gathering. But I strongly advise—"
"I don't want your advice right now. I want that contact."
"Axel—"
"Do I need to remind you who signs your checks?" The words taste bitter on my tongue, but I'm desperate. "The Slade family has been very good to your firm for three generations."
The silence that follows is heavy with disapproval. "That's beneath you, Axel."
He's right, and I know it. I close my eyes, ashamed of stooping to threats. "I'm sorry. That was out of line. But please, I need help. She needs help."
"I understand." His voice softens slightly. "I'll text you the contact information for Michael Reeves. He's… thorough. And discreet. But Axel, promise me you won't do anything rash."
"I promise," I say, though I'm not entirely sure I can keep it. "Thank you."
"Don't thank me yet," he says grimly. "And for what it's worth, I hope this woman appreciates what you're risking for her."
The call ends, and I stare at my phone, waiting for the text. I don't know if Sadie will ever appreciate anything I do again. I don't know if she'll ever trust me, ever let me near her or Poppy. But that doesn't change what I have to do.
My phone buzzes with an incoming text. Michael Reeves, along with a phone number and a brief note from Alderman: "Expensive but worth it. Cash only. No paper trail."
I don't hesitate, dialing immediately. The phone rings three times before a gruff voice answers.
"Yeah?"
"Michael Reeves?" I ask, straightening in my seat.
"Who's asking?"
"Axel Slade. Richard Alderman gave me your number."
There's a pause, then his tone shifts slightly. "Slade, huh? What can I do for you at this hour?"
I glance up at Sadie's window one last time, the light still burning behind the curtains. I can almost picture her inside, holding Poppy close, terrified of shadows.
"I need information on someone," I say, my resolve hardening. "As quickly as possible."
"That costs extra," Reeves says matter-of-factly.
"Money's not an issue."
He chuckles, a dry sound without humor. "It never is with you Slades. What's the name?"
"Elliot." I realize with a flush of embarrassment that I don't even know his last name. "I don't have his surname yet, but he's from Oregon. Finance industry. Recently arrived in Virginia Dale, Colorado."
"Not much to go on," Reeves observes.
"I'll have more tomorrow. His vehicle is a black sedan, late model. Probably luxury. I can get the plate number if needed."
"That would help. What exactly are you looking for?"
I grip the phone tighter, staring at Sadie's apartment window where the light still burns.
"Everything. I need his full identity, financial status, criminal history if any. I need to know where he's staying while he's in Colorado, who he's working with—and most importantly, I need leverage."
"Leverage," Reeves repeats, the word hanging between us. "That's a loaded term."
"I'm not asking you to break the law," I clarify, though part of me doesn't care if he does.
"I need information that can be used to neutralize him in a custody battle. He's threatening to take a child from her mother using manipulated evidence and intimidation."
"I see." His voice loses some of its edge. "Child cases are different. I don't work for abusers or kidnappers."
"Good—because I'm trying to stop one." I run a hand through my hair, exhaustion suddenly hitting me. "This guy is dangerous. Not with his fists, but with his mind. He's calculated, manipulative. He's been stalking them, taking photos. He's threatening criminal charges to force compliance."
"Sounds like a real prince," Reeves mutters. "Alright, I'm in. But I need more details. The woman's name, the child, any legal paperwork you can get your hands on."
I hesitate. Giving him Sadie's name feels like another betrayal. But what choice do I have?
"Sadie Calloway," I finally say. "Her daughter is Poppy, fourteen months old. There's a custody hearing scheduled in Oregon next week. And apparently a restraining order, though I just found out about that tonight."
"Restraining order is good," Reeves says, suddenly sounding more interested. "That means there's a paper trail. Courts don't issue those without cause."
Hope flickers in my chest. "So you can use that?"
"Maybe. Depends on the grounds. I'll need the case number."
"I'll get it," I promise, already planning how. Rowan might help me, even if Sadie won't.
"What else can you tell me about this Elliot character? Physical description? Any known associates?"
I describe Elliot as accurately as I can, mid-thirties, around six feet tall, dark hair, lean build, expensive taste.
"He carries himself like old money," I add. "Confident. Entitled. The kind of guy who's used to getting what he wants."
"And the woman, Sadie, what's her connection to him exactly?"
"She says they were married," I reply, the word still stinging. "But she tried to file for divorce and he wouldn't sign. She ran when she was pregnant. He claims he's Poppy's biological father."
"Claims?" Reeves picks up on my careful wording. "You have doubts?"
"I don't know," I admit.
"Sadie hasn't told me the full story. But the way he talked about Poppy… he told Sadie to 'get rid of it' when she was pregnant. Now suddenly he wants to be Father of the Year? Something doesn't add up."
"People change their minds about kids all the time," Reeves says, but I can hear the skepticism in his voice.
"Not like this," I insist. "There's something else going on. I just don't know what yet."
"That's what I'm here for," Reeves says. "To find out what you don't know."
"How quickly can you get started?"
"I can be in Virginia Dale by noon tomorrow. But this kind of rush job isn't cheap."
"I told you, money isn't an issue." I reach into my wallet, checking what cash I have on hand. "I can get you five thousand as a retainer tomorrow. More as needed."
He whistles low. "That'll work. Text me the address where we can meet. Somewhere private."
"The brewery," I decide. "I have an office there. We won't be disturbed."
"Perfect. And Axel?" His voice turns serious. "Don't do anything stupid in the meantime. Men get emotional when kids and women are involved. Makes them sloppy."
"I'm not emotional," I lie. "I'm determined."
"Same difference when it comes to bad decisions." He sighs. "Just let me do my job before you go charging in like a knight in shining armor, alright?"
"Fine," I agree, my fist still tight around the phone at the memory of Elliot's smug face. "Just find me what I need."
"I always do." He hangs up without saying goodbye.
I start the truck's engine, giving one last look at Sadie's window. The light is still on, but the curtain has moved slightly. Is she watching me? Wondering why I'm still here? Or is she just checking to make sure Elliot hasn't returned?
Knowing she’s up there, furious, scared, tearing herself apart because of me, makes my throat lock up. I want to storm up those stairs, pin her to the wall, and force her to see the truth. No one on earth, not her bastard ex, not even her own fear, is going to take her from me.
I made a terrible mistake keeping that photo from her. I see that now with painful clarity. But I won't make another one. I won't let Elliot destroy her life, steal her daughter, or force her back into whatever hell she escaped from in Oregon.
"I'm sorry, Sadie," I whisper to the empty truck. "But I'm not giving up on you. Not now. Not fucking ever."