Chapter 38
T he conference room on the seventieth floor is silent.
The kind of silence that crackles with the weight of what’s coming.
Marcus sits next to me, his arms crossed, his expression unreadable. He hasn’t said a word in the last five minutes—just watching me. Waiting.
He knows I’m barely keeping it together.
I know it too.
I scrub a hand down my face, feeling the sting of the split in my lip where Lucian’s fist connected last night. The bruises on my cheek and ribs throb in dull, steady pulses, but they’re nothing compared to the wreckage inside me.
I look like shit.
I feel worse.
Not because of Lucian. Not because of the fucking merger hanging in the balance.
Because of her.
Because I didn’t protect her.
Because I wasn’t there when she needed me.
Because I threw her to the fucking wolves when she was already bleeding.
I close my eyes for a second, trying to shake the image from my mind.
I glance at the clock. 8:59 a.m.
Calloway will be here any second, and I need to focus.
Adrian leaked the merger details. I just don’t know how the fuck he got them.
I can’t accuse him without proof.
I can’t lose my temper.
I need to be in control.
My lawyers filter into the room, their presence a steady reminder that this isn’t just personal—it’s business.
A business I built.
A business I refuse to let that pissant motherfucker take from me.
The door swings open, and at 9:00 a.m. on the dot, Richard Calloway walks in, his presence sucking the air from the room.
He’s flanked by his own legal team.
And by Adrian.
I don’t take my eyes off him.
Not as he strolls in like he owns the place.
Not as he pulls out his chair, settling into it with an arrogance that makes my fingers twitch with the need to wrap around his fucking throat.
Not as I catch the fresh claw marks down his cheek—courtesy of Elena.
A flicker of satisfaction coils in my gut.
But it’s not good enough.
The sting of that mark is nowhere near enough to pay the blood debt he owes.
Adrian Kingston doesn’t realize it yet, but he’s not going to make it out of this alive.
Still, he’s smug.
Smug because he thinks he’s won.
And maybe he has.
Because while he sits there grinning, Elena is gone.
And I have no one to blame but myself.
Calloway doesn’t waste time.
He plants his hands on the table, his glare locked onto me like I personally set his goddamn house on fire.
“So, what the fuck happened?”
Before I can take a breath to answer, the conference room doors burst open.
It sounds like a cannon firing as Elena strides into the room, sucking the air from my lungs with each step.
Heels clicking on the polished floor, she holds a folder in the crook of her arm, her hazel eyes lit on fire and locked on Calloway.
Behind her, several security guards sprint toward the conference room, followed by the new receptionist who replaced Vanessa.
I hold out my hand, standing. They stop.
She doesn’t even glance at me.
Doesn’t spare me a single fucking look.
Her cheek is bruised, and I see the cut on her lip concealed partially with red lipstick.
My fingers twitch, aching to reach out and caress her. To pull her into my arms.
To get her far the fuck away from Adrian.
I inhale sharply.
“Elena—”
It’s barely a whisper. More like a plea.
But she ignores it.
Because she doesn’t need me to save her.
She’s here to burn down the man who hurt her, and she’s not going to let anyone—even me—get in the way of that.
Her focus is locked on Richard Calloway, her chin high, her expression calm and lethal all at once.
"Before you throw away billions," she says, her voice smooth and even but razor-sharp, "I thought you’d like to know what your nephew’s been up to."
A suffocating silence swallows the room.
Every eye snaps to Adrian.
His entire body stiffens.
But he tries to mask it, his smug mask slipping for just a second before he forces it back into place.
The moment Calloway picks up the documents, his expression hardens into something lethal.
His grip tightens, fingers curling around the edges of the pages as his sharp gaze scans the damning evidence.
"What the hell is this?"
His voice is low, edged with fury.
Adrian shifts beside him, stiffening.
A brief flicker of panic crosses his face before he schools it into something more neutral, feigning confusion like the snake he is.
Elena doesn’t give him a chance to speak.
She flips open the folder, spreading a mess of incriminating financial records across the polished surface of the table.
“I had the misfortune of knowing Adrian years ago.”
Her voice is smooth, measured, but underneath it, I hear the venom.
“Back then, he was running a scheme—skimming money off the top of deals. Looks like he never stopped.”
Calloway’s jaw tightens.
His brows furrow as he flips through the evidence, his breathing sharp, shoulders tensing with each new page.
Elena tilts her head, watching him absorb the information like she already knows exactly what he’ll find.
“Only difference is, now he’s using your company’s assets to do it on a much larger scale.”
Adrian shoots up from his seat, his face flushing red with anger.
"Where the hell did you get this?"
His voice is wild, unhinged, defensive.
"She’s lying—this is bullshit!"
Elena finally turns to him.
Smiling.
A slow, razor-sharp smirk that’s nothing but a death sentence in silk.
"I tracked my phone you stole to the same brownstone you lived at all those years ago.”
She shakes her head like she can’t believe how fucking stupid he is.
“Same hide-a-key. Same password. Same arrogance."
She leans forward, her voice mocking, dripping with amusement.
“You always thought you were the smartest guy in the room. Turns out, you’re just the easiest to rob.”
Then she tilts her head slightly, like she’s just remembered something interesting.
"Though, I was a bit surprised to see Vanessa in your bed."
A slow-moving ice storm creeps through my veins.
Marcus’s head snaps to me at the exact same time my entire body goes numb.
“Yeah, she was really surprised to see me too.”
Elena’s voice is light, almost conversational, but there is venom laced beneath it.
“She must have broken—what—a dozen or more NDA agreements feeding you Wolfe Industry secrets. I don’t think she’s going to be backing up your defense anytime soon.”
It wasn’t just Vanessa feeding Adrian information.
It was her on the phone yesterday.
The woman in the background.
The one I thought was Elena.
The one I thought was sucking Adrian’s cock while he taunted me.
A slow, acidic wave of realization churns in my stomach.
I was wrong.
So fucking wrong.
My throat tightens, pure fucking revulsion climbing up my spine like a disease.
Adrian’s fury morphs into something animalistic, his hands curling into fists as he lunges forward, ready to spit his denials?—
But Elena moves first.
She reaches into her purse and pulls out a USB drive.
Before he can open his filthy fucking mouth, she tosses it onto the table, her voice calm. Steady.
"Before you say anything too incriminating . . ."
Adrian stills.
The color drains from his face.
He’s terrified.
Of what she has on him.
Of what she could throw at him next.
Elena straightens, turning to Calloway—and her next words hit the entire room like a wrecking ball.
"I’m pressing charges against your nephew for assaulting me yesterday in broad daylight. It’s all there if you want to see a hint of the vile relative you have."
Calloway sucks in a sharp breath, his skin going white as a fucking sheet as he takes the USB in his hands.
"The police will be here any moment."
“Adrian.” Calloway gasps, his eyes wide in disbelief. “Is that true?”
“How could you ask me that?” Adrian tries to defend himself but it’s like sinking in quicksand. The more he moves, talks, the faster he goes down. “How do you think she could even get all this in what–an hour today? Two tops?”
“My phone is still in his pocket.” Elena says cooly, keeping her gaze fixed on Calloway. “I’ve been tracking it.”
Calloway looks at Adrian expectantly. Adrian just scoffs.
“Empty your pockets.” Calloway stands and I’m seconds away from jumping over that table and handling him myself.
“Uncle–”
“Do it!” Calloways voice booms just as the conference room doors slam open again.
Uniformed officers flood the space, their boots echoing against the floor, handcuffs clinking in the heavy silence.
"Adrian Kingston, you’re charged with assault and are being placed under arrest."
Adrian’s panic is instant.
His gaze whips to his uncle, eyes wide. Pleading.
"Uncle—wait, you’re not seriously gonna let them?—"
The officers close in, restraining him, pulling his arms behind his back.
He thrashes. Curses. Struggles.
Trying to shake them off, but he’s got no fucking way out.
Calloway doesn’t even look at him.
His voice is cold. Final.
"Take him."
Adrian erupts.
Screaming. Thrashing. Cursing Elena. Cursing me.
Wolfe security rushes in.
The new receptionist demands answers, but she’s drowned out by Adrian’s frantic shouts.
And through all of it, Elena turns on her heel and walks away.
Her chin is lifted.
Her shoulders squared.
She doesn’t falter.
She doesn’t fucking look back.
She never looked at me once, and I feel like I’m fucking drowning.
Freezing and stranded, living on the dark side of the moon without her light to give me warmth.
"Elena!"
I shove forward, pushing against the throng of attorneys, security guards, police officers. Employees are gathered, trying to look in and see what the commotion is.
I can’t see through the chaos, but I catch a glimpse of her just as she reaches the elevator.
She presses the button, and the doors open immediately.
"Elena, wait!"
She turns.
Her body facing forward, expression unreadable.
And the doors close.
Marcus’s grip clamps down on my arm, holding me back.
“Wolfe.”
Rage explodes through me.
"What the fuck are you doing?"
I snarl, shoving at him.
Marcus is stone-faced. Calm.
Too fucking calm for what just happened.
"Now is not the time, Damien."
His voice is firm.
A warning.
I don’t get the chance to respond because Adrian fucking loses it.
The officers slam him down on the conference table.
The sound echoes around the room.
They zip-tie his wrists and ankles, his screams turning into wild, incoherent threats.
His pockets are emptied and Calloway looks at the small bag of white powder until two cell phones thud onto the table.
One of them lights up. The picture on the lockscreen nearly does me under.
It was on the helicopter. Me at the controls. The sunrise peeking over the horizon.
Four of them lift him up together, carrying him straight through the doors.
His body thrashes like a rabid animal.
His voice echoes off the walls?—
"FUCK YOU! FUCK ALL OF YOU! SHE’S A FUCKING WHORE!"
I pull my phone from my pocket.
Press the name.
Put it to my ear and wait for the answer.
"It’s Lucian."
"Adrian just got picked up for assault."
There’s a pause.
"I’ll make it slow."
The call ends and regret hits me like a freight train.
For the first time in years, I don’t know what to do.
Behind me, the room settles, the chaos dissipating into a tense, weighted silence.
Calloway leans forward and picks up Elena’s phone from the pile of Adrian’s discarded belongings. His expression dark and unreadable.
Marcus exhales sharply, rubbing his temple. Then he moves toward our attorneys, speaking in low, controlled tones.
They’re likely strategizing a press conference?—
Figuring out how to minimize the fallout.
How to contain the damage of an arrest inside Wolfe Industries.
But I don’t give a single fuck about any of it.
Not the merger.
Not the media.
Not the fucking empire I built.
Because all I can think about is Elena walking away.
Not even looking at me.
My pulse thunders, my chest tightening with something unbearable.
A long, excruciating beat passes before Calloway stands and joins me by the widows.
His voice is cool. Calculated.
Laced with disappointment. "She saved your ass, Wolfe."
I swallow hard, my jaw locking.
I know it.
Marcus knows it.
Everyone in this fucking room knows it.
Elena walked in here today and handed me my salvation?—
After I kicked her out of my life just yesterday.
She could have just pressed her charges against Adrian, but she wanted to destroy him.
Make sure his family knew what a piece of shit he was. That it was him tanking the deal. Leaking the merger information to the press.
Calloway flips her phone over in his hand, his movements deliberate.
His sharp gaze lifts, pinning me in place.
And his next words land like a goddamn hammer to my ribs.
"She wasn’t wearing her engagement ring."
My stomach plummets.
I slide my hand into my pocket.
My fingers toying with the ring there.
The diamond I slipped on her finger to sell a lie?—
Somehow, it became real.
It became a dream I wanted.
And now it’s become a fucking nightmare.
I don’t say a word.
Because there’s nothing to say.
The weight of my own failure presses down on me like a collapsing building.
I don’t have to see my own reflection to know I look defeated.
Because I am.
Calloway exhales slowly, handing her phone over to me, before he says the only thing that matters.
"Now . . . what the hell are you gonna do to fix it?"
I don’t fucking know.