The universe tried to introduce a variable. It tried to drag me back into the dark.
But as I walk down the hallway with Malcolm Vance, I know the darkness doesn't stand a chance.
CHAPTER 33
MALCOLM
I adjust the silver cufflink on my left wrist, staring at my reflection in the mirror of the master bathroom.
The man looking back at me is wearing a charcoal suit, a white shirt, and a dark tie. It is the same uniform I have worn for the last decade. It is the same armor I wore when I walked into the Vance estate to tear my father’s empire apart.
But the context has entirely shifted.
I am not preparing for a board meeting. I am not preparing for a tactical extraction or a press conference. I am preparing to drive to the Cook County Courthouse and sign a piece of paper that will legally bind me to Audrey Jennings for the rest of my natural life.
I drop my hand from my cuff, my fingers brushing against the cold metal of my watch.
The penthouse is quiet. It isn't the sterile, suffocating silence that used to define this space. It is a comfortable, living quiet. I can hear the faint sound of music playing from the guest suite down the hall, where Audrey is getting ready with Vivian. I can hear the low hum of the coffee maker in the kitchen.
The door to the master bedroom opens.
I turn around.
Grant walks into the room. He is wearing a dark suit, his left arm no longer in a sling, though he moves with a slight, deliberate stiffness that betrays the healing gunshot wound. He stops near the edge of the bed, holding a small, black velvet box.
"The perimeter at the courthouse is secure," Grant says, his voice a low rumble. "I have two men stationed at the front entrance and one near the service elevator. The press is currently occupied with Preston’s arraignment hearing across town. We have a clear window."
"Good." I walk out of the bathroom, stopping in front of him.
Grant holds out the velvet box.
I take it, flipping the lid open with my thumb. Resting inside are two simple, platinum wedding bands. They are completely unadorned. No diamonds. No engravings. They are functional, permanent, and entirely devoid of the ostentatious wealth that defined the engagement ring.
"They arrived from the jeweler an hour ago," Grant murmurs.
"Thank you." I snap the box shut and slide it into the inside pocket of my suit jacket.
Grant doesn't immediately leave the room. He stands there, his hands clasped behind his back, his expression carefully neutral. He has worked for me for six years. He has seen me break men in interrogation rooms. He has seen me dismantle corporations. He has never seen me nervous.
I am not nervous now. I am simply hyper-aware of the gravity of the next hour.
"Sir," Grant says quietly.
"Yes."
"I have spent the last six years ensuring that no one gets close enough to you to become a liability." Grant looks at me, the rigid professionalism in his posture softening just a fraction. "I am highly satisfied to be failing at my job today."
A slow, genuine smile touches the corner of my mouth. "You are not failing, Grant. The parameters of the job simply evolved."
"Indeed." Grant gives a microscopic nod. "Miss Hayes informed me that Audrey will be ready in five minutes. I will bring the car around to the private garage."
"Understood."
Grant turns and walks out of the bedroom, pulling the door shut behind him.
I walk over to the floor-to-ceiling windows. The morning sun is burning off the early spring fog, casting a sharp, clear light over Lake Michigan.
When I first brought Audrey to this apartment, I told myself it was a logistical necessity. I told myself I needed to keep her close to control the narrative, to ensure she didn't panic and ruin the operation against Simon. I lied to myself with the same cold precision I used to lie to my father.
