We left the restaurant together, Julian's wheelchair moving smoothly beside me as we headed toward the waiting car. I didn't look back to watch the federal vehicle take my brother away. There was nothing back there for me anymore.
The weight of my old life—the constant struggle for approval, the feeling of never being enough, the knowledge that I was valued only for what others could gain from me—was falling away with each step forward. In its place was something new and fragile but infinitely more real.
As Michael held the car door open for us, I caught a glimpse of our reflection in the tinted window—Julian in his wheelchair, me standing beside him, our hands still linked. We didn't look like the mismatched pair I'd once thought we were. We looked like exactly what we were becoming—partners, equals, chosen family.
I slid into the car beside Julian, feeling a certainty settling into my bones that had nothing to do with legal documents or shared addresses. This was my choice. My life. My future.
And for the first time, it was actually mine.
Chapter Fourteen
~ Julian ~
I sat in the den of my penthouse, staring at the city lights spread out below me like stars fallen to earth. The whiskey in my glass caught the amber glow of the desk lamp as I swirled it, waiting for a phone call that would determine whether weeks of careful planning had paid off or gone up in flames.
The clock on the wall ticked away seconds that felt like hours, each moment stretching my patience thinner than I'd ever admit to anyone but Connor.
When the phone finally rang, I answered before the first ring completed. "Montgomery." My voice was calm, controlled, betraying none of the anticipation coiling through me.
"It's done," Michael said without preamble. "Federal agents raided all three of Harris's facilities simultaneously. He was arrested at his estate twenty minutes ago. They found everything exactly where your intel said it would be."
A slow, satisfied heat spread through my chest, warming me more thoroughly than any whiskey could. "Casualties?"
"None. Four victims rescued from the upstate facility. All alive."
My grip tightened on the glass. Alive. Not like the others Harris had used and discarded. This time, we'd been in time.
"There's more," Michael continued, his voice taking on an edge I rarely heard. "We identified the insider who gave Harris access to your security systems, the one who provided Brad with your access codes."
I already knew the answer before he said it, had suspected it since the break-in. Still, hearing the confirmation made my jaw clench.
"Elizabeth Harrington."
My lover, the woman who had abandoned me after my accident and then slithered her way onto my board. The woman who had looked Connor in the face at that board meeting while plotting to have us both killed.
"She's been taken into custody. Federal agents found a paper trail linking her to Harris going back years. She wasn't just helping him target you—she was one of his business partners in the pharmaceutical fraud."
"Betrayal never looked so good on you, Liz," I said, crushing the crystal tumbler in my hand.
I barely felt the sting as shards bit into my palm, tiny pinpricks of pain lost in the flood of vindication. Blood dripped onto the polished desk, vivid red against the mahogany.
"Sir? Are you alright?" Michael's voice sharpened with concern.
"Perfectly fine," I replied, plucking a glass shard from my palm with detached interest. "Send me the full report within the hour."
I hung up and reached for a handkerchief to wrap around my bleeding hand, only to find Connor standing in the doorway, watching me with those perceptive eyes that seemed to see right through my carefully constructed facades.
He had changed in the weeks since we'd recovered the Project Phoenix data. Gone was the hesitant young man who'd stumbled into my hotel room. In his place stood someone with the quiet confidence of a person who finally understood their own worth.
Without a word, he crossed the room and slid onto my lap with practiced ease, taking my injured hand in his. "Let me see." His voice was soft but brooked no argument.
I surrendered my hand, watching as he carefully unwrapped the makeshift bandage to examine the damage beneath. Histouch was gentle yet confident, his focus absolute as he removed a small shard of glass I'd missed.
"Good news?" he asked, not looking up from his task.
I traced his spine with my free hand, a possessive gesture that had become familiar between us. The solid warmth of him grounded me in a way nothing else could.
"The best," I confirmed, unable to keep the satisfaction from my voice. "Harris is finished. Federal agents raided his facilities, rescued four victims, and arrested him at his estate. Your parents are bankrupt. No one will touch them now, professionally or socially."
