Page 44 of The Tower (Billionaire Brothers Grimm #1)

Thirty-Two

Dethroned

L iam guided Sasha through the crowd of Manhattan’s elite, his hand at the small of her back as he carefully maintained the precise balance of protective and possessive that the cameras would expect.

Every moment was calculated—from the way his fingers brushed against the fabric of her dress to the casual intimacy of leaning in to whisper in her ear.

Just one glance at his phone half an hour ago had confirmed that Sasha, Liam, Liam-And-Sasha-the-Couple, and Sasha-the-Potential-Ward were trending across every social media platform in use anywhere on the globe.

They’d been photographed mingling, smiling, laughing.

And in every image and video that Liam found, Sasha had played her part perfectly, handling the small talk and scrutiny with a poise that surprised even him.

She looked exactly like what she was—a stable, confident woman able to take care of herself.

A woman who absolutely did not need a guardian.

And damned if they weren’t going to establish that and more in court.

The Grimm family’s annual fundraiser had provided the ideal backdrop—high profile enough to generate the publicity they needed, yet controlled enough that Reed’s men couldn’t easily infiltrate.

And the presence of Sasha at the party despite the scandal and curiosity swirling around her had the added benefit of reducing the number of queries as to Elias Grimm’s whereabouts.

The usual answer? Unavoidably called away on business.

The real answer? Elias Grimm was out of commission, deep in a coma from which no one expected him to recover.

And the only thing wrong with that picture as far as Liam was concerned was that his father was warm and comfortable in a medically high-tech room instead of burning in hell where he belonged.

He checked his watch, noting they’d been mingling for nearly two hours. “We’ve been seen enough,” he murmured against her ear, allowing his lips to linger a fraction longer than necessary. “There’s something I want to show you.”

Her eyes met his, curiosity mingling with wariness. She’d learned to be cautious around him—a fact that both pleased and troubled him in ways he chose not to examine too closely.

“All right. What?”

“Not here.” He nodded toward a service door partially concealed behind an elaborate floral arrangement.

The security guard stationed there was on his payroll, not Alexander’s—a distinction that had proven useful more than once. The man stepped aside without a word, and Liam ushered Sasha through the door, down one flight of stairs, and then into the service corridor beyond.

The transition was jarring—from crystal chandeliers and champagne to the stark industrial look of concrete floors and fluorescent lighting.

“Where are we going?” Her voice echoed slightly in the narrow space.

Liam didn’t answer immediately, leading her instead toward the service elevator at the end of the corridor. He’d been debating this decision all evening, weighing the risk against the potential value. But in the end, he knew it was important.

Perhaps it was about trust—giving her something real after so many manipulations. Or perhaps it was simpler than that. Perhaps he just wanted someone to witness the truth he and his half-brothers had carried alone for too long.

The service elevator was industrial and stark, without the polish of the main elevators. Liam swiped his key card and entered a code, deliberately positioning himself so Sasha couldn’t see the sequence.

Old habits.

“You didn’t answer my question,” she said as the doors closed. There was a new edge to her voice, a flash of steel that hadn’t been there when he’d first brought her to his loft. The drugs were clearing from her system, and with them, the artificial fog that had dampened her natural spirit.

“We’re going to see my father,” he said simply.

Her sharp intake of breath was audible in the confined space. “Elias?”

“The one and only.”

The elevator began its descent, and Liam watched her process this information. Her expressions were becoming easier to read—or perhaps he was simply paying closer attention than he once had.

“Why ?” she asked.

A fair question, one he wasn’t entirely sure he could answer. “The opportunity presented itself. With everyone at the event, we can move through the tower unnoticed.”

It wasn’t the whole truth, but it wasn’t a lie either. The perfect conditions for a man accustomed to operating in gray areas.

The elevator stopped at the fortieth floor, and Liam led her into a corridor that looked nothing like the residential floors above. The medical floors were sterile and institutional, with the antiseptic smell that seemed universal to all healthcare facilities, regardless of how expensive.

“The family medical floor,” he explained, noting her curious glance.

“After Gabriel died in the fire, my father became obsessed with mortality—not in a philosophical sense, but with the fervor of a man determined to cheat it.” He shrugged.

“So he installed the three medical floors for both family care and research.”

“What happened to Gabriel?” Sasha asked. “I remember hearing about a fire, but not the details.”

Liam’s jaw tightened. “Massive blaze at his retreat in Aspen. Nothing could have saved him. No body was recovered—just a few teeth that somehow survived the inferno and the charred remains of his signet ring.” He held up his bare right hand.

“The gold had partially melted, but the family crest was still visible enough for identification.”

“Signet ring?”

“All Grimm sons wear identical rings—except me.” The words came out more bitter than he’d intended.

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

He shook his head. He hadn’t intended to even hint that he cared. Because he didn’t. He had no respect for Elias Grimm. So why the fuck would he want that patriarch’s crest on his hand?

They walked in silence for a while, passing several empty rooms before reaching the door at the end of the hall. Liam hesitated, his hand hovering over the keypad.

“Are you ready?”

“Yes, but why are we here? He’s in a coma, right? Why do you want me to see him?”

He slid his hands into his pockets. “You believed Elias killed your mother for years. He was the monster who lived under your bed. Seeing him like this … Well, it can change how you see the world.”

For a moment, she only looked at him. Then she turned to look at the still-closed door. When she returned her gaze to him, there was no uncertainty on her face. “He’s not my monster, Liam,” she said softly. “You’re the one who pulled him out of that role and recast the true monster in my memory.”

She met his eyes. “Elias Grimm is the monster under your bed. Not mine.”

He shook his head, knowing she was right, but not wanting to know it.

For a moment, the corridor was silent but for the mechanical whirring and clicking of equipment. Then she took his hand. “Yes. I want to see him. I want you with me, though.”

Something soft and warm washed over him. “Of course. We’ll go in there together.”

He drew in a breath, then tapped in the code, steeling himself for what lay beyond. He’d only come once before. And Sasha was right—no matter how much he told himself this trip was to slay her monsters, the only monster beyond that door was his.

The door unlocked with a soft click, and he pushed it open, gesturing for Sasha to enter first. She hesitated just a moment before stepping through, her shoulders set in a determined line.

The room was dimly lit, dominated by a hospital bed surrounded by machines that beeped and hummed in a rhythmic chorus.

And there, lying beneath pristine sheets, was Elias Grimm—or what remained of him.

The once-imposing frame was now diminished, the face sunken and waxy.

And a colorful array of tubes and wires connected him to the various machines that sustained his minimal functions.

The nurse seated in the corner barely glanced up from her tablet as they entered, merely acknowledging his presence with a perfunctory nod. “Mr. Grimm.”

“Any change?” he asked, though he already knew the answer.

“Stable but unresponsive,” she replied. “Blood pressure’s been good today.”

Liam watched as Sasha moved closer to the bed, studying her face as she took in the man who had occupied such a significant place in her nightmares. The man who, according to Victor Reed’s lies, had murdered her mother.

“He doesn’t look like a monster,” she whispered.

“That’s the problem with monsters,” Liam replied, his voice flat. “They rarely do.”

He moved to stand beside her, close enough to feel the warmth radiating from her body but not quite touching.

His gaze fixed on his father’s face, searching for some trace of the terror he’d once inspired.

There was none, of course. Just a frail old man tethered to machines, all his power stripped away by biology’s cruel efficiency.

“So this is the man who supposedly pushed my mother off a roof,” Sasha said softly.

“And who discarded my mother when she became inconvenient,” Liam added, feeling the familiar rage rising like bile. “The man who brought me into his home only to spend the next twenty years making sure I understood I was unwanted.”

He hadn’t meant to say that aloud. His time with Sasha was making him careless, loosening the tight control he’d maintained for so long.

“Did he ever love anyone?” she asked, her question echoing his own childhood wonderings.

“He loved power,” he answered without hesitation. “Control. His own reflection, perhaps.”

He felt her touch before he saw it—her fingers tentatively brushing against his, the contact so unexpected he nearly pulled away. “I’m sorry,” she said, her voice low. “For what he did to you.”

Their eyes met, and Liam felt something shift between them—a moment of genuine connection that went beyond their arrangement, beyond the carefully constructed dynamics of captor and captive, protector and protected.