Page 122 of Bliss with a Billionaire

GRANT

Grant tightened his grip on his wife, a surge of protectiveness washing over him. As he eyed the two police officers, memories of their tumultuous journey flashed through his mind, each moment with Julia a testament to their resilience. She smiled up at him as she patted his chest, her gaze a beacon of hope that they were nearing the end of their ordeal.

“Well?” Grant asked as they closed the laptop.

The detective snapped his gaze to Grant. “Where did you find this, Mr. Harrington?”

Mitchell stepped forward, his bourbon sloshing in his glass. “The laptop along with several other items was found in a locked underground vault hidden under the Victorian manor owned by the deceased Mrs. Knight.”

“Isn't it rather convenient that this should surface?” the detective asked.

“You can call it whatever you’d like. My clients are under no obligation to share anything they found in that house with you, yet they have been open and transparent.”

“To their advantage. This clears them completely. Who’s to say they didn’t doctor this footage?”

Mitchell settled on the edge of the desk. “The other evidence in that vault makes it obvious what Mrs. Knight was up to. Including a file on Mr. Knight himself that she was using to…keep him in line. The files in that cabinet shows numerous blackmail payouts. It makes sense that Mr. Knight would have done this.”

“And it makes sense that Mrs. Harrington’s tech genius side kick would alter footage for them,” the detective shot back.

“Try selling that to a DA and see if it flies.” Mitchell took a sip of his bourbon before he reached for the laptop.

The detective yanked it toward his chest. “This is evidence, counselor.”

“According to you, the only evidence on that machine is of a manipulated video that you are accusing my clients of orchestrating.”

The detective rose, the laptop clutched in his hands. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe this fits. I’d like to have our tech team take a look at it if you don’t mind.”

“We do. The Harringtons are willingly working with authorities to bring the appropriate parties to justice.”

The detective’s phone rang in his pocket. He held up a finger as he pulled it out and answered it. “Yes? Uh-huh…oh really?”

He flicked his gaze toward Grant as his eyebrows raised. “You’re kidding? No, that’s…fantastic. Yeah. I’ll be back in about an hour. Thanks.”

He ended the call and slid the phone into his pocket.

Mitchell’s voice held an edge of steel as he extended his hand. “The laptop, detective. It’s not just a piece of evidence, but the key to unraveling the truth.”

The detective patted the top of the machine. “We’ll hang on to this. It’ll be very helpful in prosecuting Mr. Knight who has just confessed to the murder of his wife.”

Grant lifted his chin at the words, a glimmer of hope that the nightmare was nearing its end.

“Really?” Mitchell glanced at Grant before he focused on the detective again. “I trust, then, that my clients will no longer be troubled by any of this.”

“It looks like all of the Harringtons are in the clear. Let’s hope we don’t meet again, shall we?”

“Believe me, no one looks more forward to not being at the police station than me,” Grant said. “Except maybe my wife, Julia.”

She grinned at him.

“You folks have a lovely day.” The detective strode from the room with Mitchell following behind him.

Grant twisted to face Julia, pulling her closer to him. “I can’t believe it’s finally over.”

She tilted her chin to glance up at him. “It’s been a long two years.”

“Much too long of a two years,” he answered her. “But it brought you to me, so I can’t complain.”

“Neither can I,” she answered softly.