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CHAPTER FIFTEEN

JULIAN

C arter’s house sprawls across three acres on the outskirts of Seattle. The landscaping is pristine and the security gates part for my vehicle like they recognize the weight of my name.

I’m exhausted after a full day of questioning Carter’s girlfriends—three different women, each more vapid than the last. The redhead who works at a strip club kept twirling her hair and giggling.

The brunette model with legs for days just kept asking when Lucas would be back from his “business trip.” The blonde socialite was too coked out to form coherent sentences.

All fucking useless. But Adrian would’ve been thorough, so I am too.

I pull up next to the black SUV parked outside the house, a vehicle I recognize. Mother steps out from the backseat of it.

Sighing, I park my car and step out. I doubt Adrian would be getting our mother’s help, but she insisted. She’d wanted to know what I was up to this evening so I told her.

“Oh, Lucy?” she’d said when I mentioned I was visiting Lucas Carter’s wife. “I get along well with her. She’ll open up to me.”

I’d been tired of hitting dead ends, so I agreed to meet Mother here.

I approach the entrance of the house and she falls into step beside me. As I knock on the door, she says, “Let me take the lead. I’ll get this over quickly.”

I sigh again and nod.

Carter’s wife, Lucy, opens the door. Her already pale skin drains of color when she sees me standing on her doorstep, even though Mom is with me. She’s a petite woman, and her fingers tighten around the doorframe like it’s the only thing keeping her upright.

“Mr. Harrow,” she breathes out shakily. “And Liora. I—To what do I owe this pleasure?”

My mother smiles politely. “Lucy. So sorry to bother you. We were worried about your husband. He missed an important meeting yesterday. Is everything alright?”

Lucy’s eyes dart over my shoulder, scanning the yard beyond as if expecting someone else. “Oh, yes. I apologize. Lucas meant no disrespect. He had an emergency at the Vegas property.” The words tumble out too quickly, rehearsed. “A plumbing issue flooded the main casino floor. Millions in damages.”

“Terrible,” Mom says.

I watch Lucy’s fingers tremble around the door. Funny how she hasn’t invited us in yet. “Are you sure? I called the property earlier. Everything seemed normal. ”

A lie. But the flash of raw fear that crosses her face confirms what I already suspected. She’s hiding something.

“Oh.” Lucy swallows, her painted smile cracking at the edges. “Well, perhaps they’ve already fixed it. Lucas hires the best people.”

“May we come in?” Mom asks, already stepping forward, forcing Lucy to retreat or be walked into. “Julian wants to discuss a few Consortium matters. Things Lucas should be updated on when he returns.”

Lucy hesitates just a fraction too long before her hospitality training kicks in. “Of course,” she says, stepping aside. “Please.”

The interior of their home is nice—gold edges, thick wooden furniture.

But there’s tension, thick enough to choke on.

I catch the subtle signs—a half-empty glass of whiskey on an end table, smudged lipstick on its rim.

A man’s jacket draped over the back of a chair.

I haven’t actually met Carter, but Valentine confirmed that he’s out of town. And the jacket looks cheap.

Is little Mrs. Carter finding some good dick elsewhere?

“You here alone?” I ask casually, studying her face.

That flash of fear again, bright and unmistakable, before she composes herself.

“No, my children are in their rooms upstairs,” she says, then quickly adds, “My husband will call to check on me any minute now. He’s very…

attentive.” Her fingers twist the diamond-encrusted wedding band, a nervous tell.

I can smell the deception, taste it like smoke on my tongue. My guess is that her side piece ran off the minute they knew the gates opened. Maybe she thought her husband was home early.

Still, seems she’s more fearful that it turned out to be me and my mother instead of her husband catching her cheating.

“He doesn’t leave you protection?” Mom asks, arching an eyebrow as we wander into the living room.

“Seems irresponsible,” I chime in. “Though I guess it makes sense, given how he makes sure each of his girlfriends has a bodyguard.” I pause, the lie hanging over Lucy. “He must value them more.”

The barb finds its mark. Lucy flinches, her composure cracking just enough to reveal the desperate woman beneath. She recovers quickly, but not before I see the flash of hatred in her eyes.

“Well,” she says, trying for lightness and missing by a mile, “I guess it’s good you’re both here then.”

I fall silent, observing. The way she can’t meet my eyes for more than a second. The way her hands shake as she clasps them in front of her. Is this nervousness only about the affair? Or is she hiding a secret about her husband too?

Mom and I exchange a knowing glance as we sit on the couch. Lucy sits on the loveseat across from us. All the possibilities and unknowns are starting to really piss me off. Why can’t people tell me the truth and get it over with?

I’m just so fucking tired of the constant game of lies and half-truths. Of never knowing who to trust and who will stab me in the back the moment it’s turned. Is this how my father felt? This smothering paranoia that spikes my adrenaline all hours of the day?

Being leader means carrying the fate of hundreds on your shoulders.

It means overseeing millions in revenue, thousands of moving parts, countless potential betrayals lurking in every corner.

No wonder Lucian turned to brutal outlets for his rage.

It wasn’t just cruelty for cruelty’s sake—it was self-preservation.

A desperate attempt to keep the demands of leadership from driving him completely insane.

Understanding slides through me like a cold blade—my father’s behavior makes more sense now than it ever has before. The thought sickens me, but there’s truth in it I can’t deny.

I… understand him.

Mom touches my shoulder, probably sensing how tight I’m wound. To Lucy, she says, “Are you sure Lucas has been at your Vegas property? We’re here to help. If he’s involved in something you’re scared to talk about, rest assured we’ll keep you safe. But it’s important we know.”

Lucy folds her hands in her lap. “Honestly, I stay out of my husband’s affairs. You understand that, right?”

Mom smiles politely. “Yes, of course.”

I clench my fists against my thighs. We’re obviously getting nowhere and my frustration is building. “Get to the fucking truth,” I grit out. “Stop wasting our time.”

Lucy’s eyes widen at my outburst as mom touches my shoulder again, trying to calm me with a caring touch. “Julian,” Mom says. “She did tell us the truth. The poor woman doesn’t know anything. Isn’t that right, dear?”

Lucy nods.

“I completely understand,” Mom continues, a slight edge of amusement in her voice as she turns to speak only to me. “Wives in the Consortium prefer not to know how many women their husbands fucks. If Lucas is in Vegas, he’s merely spending time with hookers and forgot all about the meeting.”

Lucy twitches but she’s trained well and maintains her composure.

“We haven’t thrown as many parties as normal this year,” Mom continues, relishing every word. “Lucas must be bored.”

Lucy’s mask begins to slip and I see the raw humiliation on her face as Mom twists the knife deeper.

“I’m sure you didn’t hear about the last party your husband attended, did you?

” Mom turns back to Lucy, not waiting for a response.

“Lucas lined up five young women who were barely old enough to drink—had them all on their knees. He went down the line, fucking each from behind. Over and over. I think he played a game with himself to see which one he’d finally cum inside. ”

The room shrinks around us, oppressive with silence and Lucy’s shame. What’s really disturbing, though, is Mom isn’t lying—I heard about that party.

“Of course,” Mom adds lightly, like sharing gossip over tea, “the winner got to spend the entire night in his room. He does like them young. How old are you, dear?”

Lucy looks like she’s going to break apart right there on the loveseat. Her cheeks flame red as she stares at the floor. “Thirty-four.”

“Poor dear. Well, he must be having fun in Vegas. Unless you’ve heard about anything else he’s up to?”

Lucy wrings her hands on her lap, thinking things over.

I watch, caught between shock and admiration for how brutally effective Mom is. She’s dismantling Lucy with nothing more than words.

When Lucy finally lifts her head, all traces of composure are gone. She’s trembling. “I really don’t know. He doesn’t tell me much.”

Mom’s whimsical voice turns hard. “Are you sure? Please consider your words.”

“I swear. I don’t know anything.”

My jaw ticks. I’m so tired of the lies from all sides that I need some fucking truth for once. I open my mouth to say something, but Mom holds up a hand, continuing to take control.

Mom sighs, that same sigh that let me know I was in trouble as a kid. “Lucy,” she says carefully. “I really wish things had gone differently. We just need the truth, that’s all.” She reaches into my jacket pocket, and before I even register the movement, she’s holding my knife.

Lucy’s eyes widen as Mom examines it casually. “Strip,” Mom orders, her voice almost gentle but too jagged around the edges.

I’m almost as shocked as Lucy is.

Lucy’s breath hitches. She looks at me, pleading silently for some kind of intervention. But I only stare back. I’m too fucking tired of the games to care if she feels cornered.

“Here?” Her eyes flick to the stairs. “Let’s go to my bedroom. I don’t want my kids to?—”

“Strip,” Mom echoes. “Or we’ll invite them down to watch.”