Page 42 of Shattered by Grace (The Locke Empire Duet #1)

Chapter Thirty-Three

S till in disbelief, Victoria stared blankly at the contract, the words blurring together no matter how many times she read them. Her father’s signature felt like a betrayal, even though she knew deep down he had no choice. Of course he signed it. He had to. But it didn’t take the sting away.

With a deep breath, she reached for her phone, her fingers trembling as she scrolled through her contacts.

She stopped on Detective Adams' name, her thumb hovering over it. Maybe he had answers, maybe he could fill in the blanks. But the thought of involving him right now made her chest tighten. She wasn’t ready for that conversation. Not yet.

She kept scrolling, and her breath hitched when Tristan’s name appeared.

Her jaw clenched. For a split second, she wanted to call him. Wanted to hear his voice, feel like someone was in this with her. But the weight of the notebook, the contract, the bloodstained truth of his last name crushed that impulse just as quickly as it came.

He doesn’t even know who I really am.

Frustration flared hot in her chest, and she scrolled back up landing on Taylor’s name. Her fingers flew over the keyboard.

Victoria

Bitch, stop whatever you’re doing and get over to my apartment. I have some stuff I need my best friend and wine to get through.

She hit send and dropped the phone onto the table, rubbing a hand over her face.

If anyone could help her survive this, it was Taylor.

Victoria pushed back from the table, the chair scraping against the floor.

Clawdia, who had been lounging without a care, protested in the most disrespectful fashion—letting out an exaggerated mrrp before jumping down, flicking her tail in irritation.

Without so much as a backward glance, she trotted off toward Victoria’s room, as if to say ‘ Deal with your drama quietly, human’.

Victoria huffed. Even my damn cat is over this.

Shaking her head, she turned her attention to the punching bag.

Grabbing her gloves, she slipped them on, tightening the straps with sharp, practiced tugs. Every movement felt mechanical, like muscle memory taking over where her mind refused to settle.

As she flexed her fingers, a ping from her phone stopped her mid-motion.

She glanced down, and despite everything, despite the weight pressing against her ribs, her lips twitched into a small, relieved smile.

Taylor

I got the wine. I'll be there in twenty.

Victoria exhaled, tension she hadn’t realized she was holding loosening just slightly. She had made the right choice texting Taylor first. No judgment, no complications, just her best friend and a bottle of wine.

She tapped a quick thumbs-up emoji in response before setting the phone aside.

Rolling her shoulders, she turned to the bag and threw the first punch, her knuckles landing solidly against the vinyl. The impact vibrated up her arm, grounding her. She hit it again, harder this time, letting the burn settle into her muscles.

I am no one’s property.

Another punch.

You had to sign it. Of course, you did. But did you ever really plan to keep that deal, Dad?

Her father’s signature flashed in her mind, scrawled at the bottom of the contract like a death sentence. Her jaw clenched as she launched another strike, this time letting a sharp breath escape through her teeth.

Did you think you could outmaneuver Cassian? Did you think you had time?

Her fists pounded into the bag, her movements gaining speed.

Or were you just desperate?

A final, brutal cross sent the bag swinging wildly. Victoria planted her feet, chest heaving, hands shaking.

She didn’t know which answer hurt worse. The idea that her father had believed he could win or the possibility that he’d known all along that he wouldn’t.

A sharp knock at the door yanked her back to the present, breaking her rhythm mid-swing. She let out a breath, shaking out her hands as she rolled her shoulders back. That was fast.

“Coming,” she called out, peeling off her gloves. She grabbed the kitchen towel that had been tossed onto the counter that morning, wiping the sweat from her forehead as she made her way to the door.

Looking through the peephole, a familiar sight greeted her… Taylor, standing there with a bottle of wine in one hand and a smug grin on her face. A small smile tugged at Victoria’s lips as she unlatched the door.

“God, finally,” Taylor huffed, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation. “You look like you just beat the shit out of someone.”

Victoria let out a dry chuckle, tossing the towel aside. “Just a bag.”

Taylor waggled the bottle. “Good. Because I come bearing alcohol and absolutely zero judgment.”

Taylor kicked off her shoes the second she stepped inside, plopping down onto the couch like she owned the place. “Alright, spill,” she said, setting the wine bottle on the table. “Your text had major ‘the world is on fire’ energy.”

Victoria let out a heavy breath as she took off her gloves, running a hand through her damp hair. “It’s been a day,” she muttered, grabbing two glasses and pouring them both a hefty amount before sitting down across from Taylor.

“Yeah, no kidding,” Taylor said, taking her glass. “I mean, I was expecting some bad decisions, maybe a questionable ex situation, but this feels… heavier.”

Victoria let out a dry laugh. “If only it were just that.” She took a sip, bracing herself before she started. “After you left the Dirty Beans coffee shop yesterday, Detective Adams showed up out of nowhere.”

Taylor’s brow furrowed. “Adams? The one who’s been ignoring your calls?”

“The very one,” Victoria said. “Except apparently, he wasn’t ignoring me. He was on medical leave.” She exhaled sharply, gripping her glass tighter. “And that’s not even the worst part. He told me Justin has been lying to me.”

Taylor stilled. “About what?”

“About being one of the good guys,” Victoria said, her voice sharp with frustration. “Justin was let go because he went rogue. He wasn’t some noble cop looking out for me. He was playing his own game.”

Taylor leaned back, shaking her head. “Damn. That’s… a lot.”

“Tell me about it,” Victoria muttered, swirling her wine before downing another sip. “And if that wasn’t enough, Adams gave me a folder. I don’t even know what’s in it yet, I haven’t had the nerve to go through it.”

“You? Not looking at something shady and mysterious? Who are you and what have you done with my best friend?”

Victoria huffed a small laugh, but it faded just as quickly. “I couldn’t. My head was a mess. So I ran.”

Taylor’s brows shot up. “Ran?”

“In the pouring rain,” Victoria added. “Didn’t even realize where I was going until I was a street away from my old house.”

Taylor’s teasing expression faded, replaced with quiet understanding. “Shit, Vic.”

Victoria nodded, her throat tightening. “It was worse than I imagined. Run-down, abandoned… it wasn’t home anymore.” She swallowed, pushing past the ache in her chest. “But I went inside anyway.”

Taylor didn’t say anything, just let her continue.

“I found a photo,” Victoria said, her voice quieter now. “A picture of me and my dad. It was ruined from water damage and dust, the glass shattered… but behind it, there was a letter.”

Taylor straightened at that. “From your dad?”

Victoria nodded, biting the inside of her cheek. “Yeah. He wrote it before he died, warning me about the Lockes, about the Grand Reaping, about everything.”

Taylor reached for the bottle and refilled both of their glasses. “Jesus, Vic.”

“And that’s not all.” Victoria took a deep breath. “I found the notebook.”

Taylor’s eyes widened. “Wait. THE notebook?”

Victoria nodded. “It was hidden in the pass-through between my closet and my dad’s office. He kept records of everything. Every deal, every payout. It’s all in there.” She hesitated, gripping her glass a little tighter. “And so is the contract.”

Taylor blinked. “What contract?”

“The one that sealed his fate,” Victoria murmured. “And mine.”

Taylor set her glass down with a thud. “Wait. I need to see this. Will you show me?”

Victoria didn’t hesitate. She got up and walked over to the table, grabbing everything—the letter, the notebook, the folder from Adams. The weight of it still felt foreign in her hands, like she was holding something that didn’t belong to her, even though it had shaped every part of her life.

“That’s why I texted you to come over,” she said, handing the notebook to Taylor before sinking back into her chair.

She flipped it open, her fingers skimming over the pages, over the names, the deals, the proof of everything her father had been caught up in. Then, with a deep breath, she turned to the page that made her stomach churn and her hands shake.

Taylor leaned in, eyes scanning the contract, and as she read, her face darkened. “Holy shit, Vic…” Her voice was barely above a whisper.

Victoria swallowed hard, her throat dry. “He signed it.”

Taylor’s gaze snapped to hers. “He probably had to.” She exhaled, shaking her head. “But that doesn’t make it any less fucked up.”

Victoria nodded, gripping the edge of the table. “That’s what keeps messing with me. I know he didn’t have a choice, but it still feels like a betrayal.”

Taylor didn’t say anything right away, just reached for the wine and topped off both their glasses. “Alright,” she finally said, settling back into her seat. “We’re gonna drink this, and then we’re gonna figure out what the hell comes next.”

Victoria let out a shaky breath. “Yeah. We have to.”