Chapter 5 - THE LEGAL WARAdrian didn't blink at the news. He walked over to the kitchen island, poured a glass of cold water, and handed it to Wren before addressing Marco.
“Who’s the presiding probate judge?” Adrian asked.
“Judge Franklin Vance,” Marco replied. “He’s been on Julian Sterling’s payroll for fifteen years.”
“Call Evelyn Reed,” Adrian ordered smoothly.
Marco’s eyes widened. “Evelyn Reed? Boss, she’s the most aggressive federal defense attorney in the state. She charges five thousand dollars an hour.”
“Then give her ten thousand,” Adrian said coldly. “Tell her I need an emergency injunction filed against the Sterling estate by eight o’clock tomorrow morning.”
Wren watched the two men speak with a growing sense of dread. She set her water glass down on the marble counter, her hands shaking. “This is useless,” she said. “Julian has judges, politicians, and police officers. You’re a crime boss, Adrian. The moment I step into a courtroom, they will lock me in a psychiatric ward and hand Julian the keys.”
Adrian walked back over to her. “Do you know why Julian hasn't had me assassinated yet today?”
Wren shook her head.
“Because he knows what I am,” Adrian said, his tone dropping into a low, terrifying calm. “Julian Sterling wears four-thousand-dollar suits and eats at private clubs, but he’s a coward. He uses money to hide his crimes. I grew up in the gutter, Wren. I built my empire by knowing every dirty secret, every hidden wire transfer, and every weak link in this city’s elite.”
He leaned in closer, his dark eyes locking onto hers. “He thinks he’s playing a legal game. He doesn't realize I’m preparing to tear his entire world down brick by brick.”
Late that night, while the city slept under a blanket of heavy snow, Wren couldn't sleep. The soft bed in the guest bedroom felt too vast, too terrifyingly clean. She wrapped herself in a dark fleece blanket and walked quietly out into the living room.
Adrian was sitting at the glass dining table in the dark, bathed only in the blue glow of his laptop screen. His shirt was unbuttoned, revealing the thick white bandages wrapped around his ribs. He was reviewing pages of financial ledgers, typing rapidly.
Wren stood in the shadows, watching him. He was a dangerous man—she had seen the dark authority he wielded over his men, the cold violence in his eyes when he confronted Julian. Yet, when he looked at her, his posture softened. He treated her not like a victim to be managed, but like an equal to be protected.
“You should be resting,” Wren said softly, stepping into the dim light.
Adrian looked up, closing the laptop slightly. “So should you.”
Wren walked over and sat down in the chair across from him, pulling her knees up to her chest. “I haven't slept in a bed in ten years. It feels... unnatural.”
“You’ll get used to it,” Adrian said gentle. “Safety takes time to learn.”
Wren looked at the papers spread across the table. “What are those?”
“Bank statements from 2014,” Adrian explained. “The month your family died. Julian transferred twelve million dollars out of your father’s personal account forty-eight hours before the fire. He used a shell company in the Cayman Islands called Nautilus Imports.”
Wren’s eyes widened. “You found the money?”
“I found the paper trail,” Adrian corrected, a dark, triumphant smile touching his lips. “Julian didn't just murder your family for control of the company, Wren. He did it because he had embezzled millions from your grandfather’s firm, and your father was about to audit the books on Monday morning.”
He reached across the table and laid his hand flat, palm up, giving her the choice to take it.
May you like
Wren looked at his strong, calloused hand. Slowly, timidly, she placed her small hand in his. His skin was warm, firm, and steady.
“Tomorrow,” Adrian whispered, “we show the world that Genevieve Sterling didn't die in that fire. And we make Julian pay for every single day you spent in the cold.”
Related Stories
