CHAPTER 21
She was nervous and burning with impatience at the same time.
Nina paced across the living room, the sheet she’d torn from her notebook clenched between her fingers. She couldn’t decide if it was too early to call. What if Jasper hadn’t warned the man yet? Or worse—what if Jasper had lied just to get her off his back?
Finally she couldn’t take it anymore and dialed the number.
“Hello?” a pleasant male voice answered.
“Good evening. My name is Nina Osborne. Jasper Garth told me I could call you.”
“Ah. Nina,” the man repeated her name as if tasting it. “Nice to finally speak with you. My name is Nolan. How can I help?”
She bit her lower lip. He didn’t ask what this was about, didn’t pretend ignorance. Jasper had actually spoken to him.
“I’d like to meet you as soon as possible,” she said plainly. “This isn’t something to discuss over the phone. And honestly… I don’t have much time. It’s urgent.”
“How soon is ‘as soon as possible’?” he asked.
“Tonight.”
A brief pause stretched across the line.
“You don’t like dragging things out, I see,” he said with a soft chuckle. “Alright. What time works for you?”
“I can come anytime,” Nina cut him off. “The earlier, the better.”
Another pause.
“Very well. Then come in an hour. I’ll text you the address.”
“Thank you,” she breathed out.
“No need. You can thank me once I’ve actually done my job.”
He hung up without a goodbye, and a chill crept up her arms.
Seconds later, the address arrived.
She needed to get ready. Fast.
Nina took a deep breath and hurried to the bedroom. While choosing what to wear, her thoughts drifted to Daphne—the ungrateful parasite hadn’t called once since their last conversation. Had she really not understood anything?
"How to explain to her that the only person who’d ever truly be on my side was me? Not her father, and definitely not Daddy’s new darling."
Nina sighed tiredly.
Small children are trouble… grown ones? Twice as much.
She picked a sharp suit and a white blouse. Straightened her shoulders. Curled her fingers into fists.
Almost impossible to tell she hadn’t slept properly in weeks.
Once she got behind the wheel, she inhaled deeply and pulled out of the driveway. Her pulse was too fast. Everything that had happened felt unreal—meeting Jasper, his ridiculous offer, this mysterious man who “didn’t always play clean.”
But she had no alternative.
As soon as she merged onto the road, Nina spotted the tail in her rearview mirror.
She’d known they were following her ever since Frank’s men photographed her outside the hospital. The only question was whether they’d seen Jasper last night—and if they’d reported back to Frank.
She clenched her jaw and pretended not to notice. If they expected her to panic, they’d be disappointed.
The drive took roughly forty minutes. The surveillance car stayed at the exact same distance—never too close, never too far.
Finally she parked at the address Nolan had sent and stared at the sign.
An antique shop.
You’ve got to be kidding me.
She double-checked the address on her phone. It matched.
She studied the window display: porcelain figurines, old books, decorative relics. Nothing remotely resembling the office of a man who “destroys legal strategies for a living.”
If Jasper was playing games with her, she’d make him regret it.
Nina stepped inside. A small bell chimed above her head.
The interior was spacious, warm. It felt pulled straight out of another era—antique furniture restored with obsessive care, a subtle floral scent drifting through the air. Luxurious. Stylish. And absolutely nothing like her taste.
For a moment she forgot why she had come. This place looked nothing like a lawyer’s hideout.
A man behind the counter noticed her. Tall. Fit. Dark hair. A badge on his chest read: Julian.
She glanced around. No sign of anything resembling an office. No indication she was in the right place.
She sensed the silence stretching too long and finally asked, without much hope:
“Sorry… is there a Nolan here? I might’ve been given the wrong address.”
Julian looked at her with calm, unreadable eyes, then simply nodded.
“Nolan’s expecting you. Come with me.”
She blinked.
So this wasn’t a joke.
A faint wave of relief slid through her—but the tension only tightened. Everything felt like a carefully staged puzzle she’d been dropped into without instructions.
Julian stepped out from behind the counter and motioned for her to follow.
Her heels clicked loudly against the wooden floor, the sound too sharp in the stillness, like she was walking through a museum.
She followed him past shelves of antique books and glass cases filled with porcelain, until he stopped before a door in the far corner—one she was certain hadn’t been there a moment ago.
The corridor beyond was narrow, dimly lit.
A strange place.
Julian knocked on one of the doors, waited two seconds, then opened it and stepped aside.
“Go ahead.”
She crossed the threshold, and the door clicked shut behind her.
The office was nothing like she’d imagined.
No antiques. No heavy carved desks. No velvet drapes.
Everything was modern. Minimalistic.
A sleek glass desk with a few neatly arranged folders. A leather chair. Built-in shelves holding only a handful of books and a small globe.
And behind the desk sat a man.
Nina froze.
Mid-thirties, maybe a little older.
He was handsome. Dark hair cut short the way you’d see in glossy magazines. And his blue eyes watched her with a kind of quiet curiosity.
He was far too polished to be just an ordinary attorney. The dark suit fit him flawlessly, and the watch on his wrist was obscenely expensive — she would know.
This man was expensive.
He gave her a quick, assessing look—from the crown of her head to the tips of her shoes.
She felt her muscles tighten.
“You’re… Nolan?” she asked, something heavy curling inside her chest.
He tilted his head slightly.
“And you must be Nina.”
His voice was low, a little rough.
“Please, have a seat,” Nolan said, gesturing to the chair across from him.
Unease prickled under her skin, but she moved closer and sat carefully.
Her anxiety churned. Nolan laced his fingers together and studied her with a level, too-calm attention.
“Since introductions aren’t necessary, let’s get to it,” he said, voice smooth and even. She had the unsettling sense he’d already made several conclusions about her. Jasper must’ve told him more than she expected.
Nina nodded and set a folder on the desk.
“This is everything I’ve managed to gather.”
He took it, flipped through the pages. His gaze moved quickly—numbers, contracts, medical records, signatures.
She swallowed. It was time to speak.
“My husband…” she began, but her voice trembled. She clenched her hands in her lap. “He doesn’t just want a divorce. He wants to leave me with nothing.”
Nolan didn’t look up, but she knew he was absorbing every word. She spoke unevenly, sometimes barely pushing the words out. It felt like exposing her soul to a stranger—showing him the rot she’d been forced to live with.
“Powers of attorney. Fake certificates. Forged documents,” she continued, pulse hammering in her temples. “He had me declared legally incompetent. Transferred everything to himself. Stripped me of my business, my money, even my name. That’s the most humiliating part of all this.”
Hot fury mixed with helplessness. Her eyes stung, but she forced herself to stay composed.
“The psychiatric hospital?” Nolan finally asked, lifting his gaze.
She nodded.
“Frank had me committed using falsified paperwork. Two weeks. Heavy medication. No phone. No contact with anyone. I was released only when he decided I wasn’t a threat anymore.”
A shadow passed through Nolan’s eyes, though his face remained calm.
“So the clinic had no legal grounds,” he said.
“None,” she replied quietly.
He flipped another page.
“And the business?”
She inhaled shakily.
“He has everything.”
How she managed to tell it all—she had no idea. Her voice cracked more than once, but she kept talking because this was her last way out.
Nolan asked questions—sharp, precise ones. He was already building a strategy, mapping the weak points, calculating.
When she finished, silence settled.
He leaned back in his chair and tapped a pen slowly against the desk.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
She sat frozen, hardly breathing. What if he said there was nothing to do? What if even he couldn’t help? Her fingers curled into fists.
“And?” she asked, voice hoarse. “Is there anything we can do? I can’t let Frank take what was never his to begin with.”
Nolan stopped tapping. Lifted his gaze.
There was something dangerous in his eyes now. Something dark.
“There are options,” he said.
Her head spun. Hope flared sharp and painful.
“But if we move forward,” he added, “the game won’t be entirely clean. And it won’t be cheap. We’ll need outside people.”
She closed her eyes. Inhaled.
And without hesitation said:
“I’m in.”