Page 52 of The Tower (Billionaire Brothers Grimm #1)

The courtroom is smaller than I expected, more intimate, which somehow makes it more intimidating. Two tables face the judge’s bench—ours, where Jack is already arranging his materials, and my father’s, which remains conspicuously vacant except for three attorneys in identical dark suits.

I scan the gallery, my breath catching when I see the familiar faces from Reed Tower. I give them a small smile, and Birgit, Ruby’s grandmother who did more to raise me than my own father, blows me a kiss.

“All rise,” the bailiff calls, and we stand as Judge Harlow takes her seat. She’s a formidable woman with sharp eyes that seem to miss nothing.

Her gaze sweeps the room. “Where is Mr. Reed and his counsel?”

One of the dark-suited men at the other table rises. “Your Honor, I’m David Mercer, representing Mr. Reed. I regret to inform the court that my client has been unavoidably detained. We request a continuance of?—”

“Denied,” Judge Harlow cuts in, her voice crisp. “This hearing has been scheduled for weeks. Mr. Reed was well aware of the date and time. We will proceed.”

A ripple of whispers passes through the gallery. I feel a surge of hope, quickly tempered by caution. My father’s absence is unexpected, worrying. He never cedes control willingly, never misses an opportunity to paint himself as the concerned, devoted parent.

“In light of the petitioner’s absence,” Judge Harlow continues, “we’ll proceed with review of the submitted evidence.”

What follows is both less and more dramatic than I expected.

There’s no confrontation with my father, no chance to see his face when he realizes he’s lost control of me forever.

Instead, Judge Harlow methodically reviews the evidence both sides have submitted—my father’s collection of videos showing me at various public events, clinical assessments from doctors in his employ, and on our side, footage from Alexander’s party, testimonials from Ruby and others, and most damning of all, the lab results showing the cocktail of experimental drugs that had been in my system, not to mention the testimony of Dr. Chen and the affidavit of our whistleblower as to the details of Project Recall.

I sit straight-backed throughout, feeling strangely disconnected from the proceedings. It’s my life being dissected, my autonomy being decided, yet it all has a surreal quality, as if I’m watching someone else’s story unfold.

“Ms. Reed,” Judge Harlow says suddenly, drawing me back to the present. “Would you stand, please?”

I rise on legs that feel less steady than I’d like, Liam’s hand supportive at my elbow.

“I’ve reviewed all the evidence before me,” she says, looking directly at me in a way that makes me feel both seen and exposed.

“Including the medical reports, the witness statements, and the footage from various events. Based on my assessment, I see a young woman who has been systematically medicated without her informed consent, whose fundamental rights have been violated, and who has demonstrated clear competence when free from such influence.”

My heart begins to race, hope rising cautiously within me.

“It is the finding of this court that Sasha Reed is fully competent to manage her own affairs and requires no legal guardian. Furthermore,” she continues, her voice hardening, “I am forwarding all evidence of Victor Reed’s actions to the district attorney’s office with a strong recommendation that criminal charges be pursued. ”

The words wash over me in a wave of disbelief and relief. Just like that, it’s over. I’m free. Legally, officially free from my father’s control.

“Congratulations, Ms. Reed,” Judge Harlow says with the faintest hint of a smile. “This case is dismissed.”

The courtroom erupts in controlled chaos as reporters rush for the doors, eager to break the news. Grimm’s arm wraps around my waist, grounding me as the reality of what just happened begins to sink in.

“We won,” I whisper, the words feeling foreign on my tongue. I’ve spent so long expecting to lose that victory feels almost disorienting.

“We won,” Grimm confirms, pressing a kiss to my temple. “You won, Princess.”

Ruby rushes up to me, her face alight with joy. “You did it!” she exclaims, pulling me into a fierce hug. She shoots a wary glance toward where Leo Grimm holds court across the room, then returns her attention to me, her expression still gleeful, but now her eyes are haunted.

I squeeze her hand in solidarity, then turn to Jack, who’s gathering his materials with the satisfied air of a man who’s just done exactly what he was paid handsomely to do. “Thank you,” I say, knowing the words can never express how much I appreciate all his work and support.

“My pleasure, Ms. Reed,” he replies, shaking my hand. “Though I suspect your father’s absence indicates we haven’t seen the last of this particular battle.”

The thought sends a chill through me despite the warmth of the courtroom. Where is Father? What is he planning?

“Ms. Reed.” A man in an expensive suit approaches, his manner deferential but urgent. “Charles Whitmore, Reed Cosmetics board member. A moment of your time?”

Ruby squeezes my hand as Grimm seems to appear from nowhere to slide in front of me, his posture protective. “This isn’t the time or place for business discussions.”

“It’s important,” Whitmore insists, his gaze fixed on me. “In light of your father’s … absence and the court’s ruling, there are decisions that need to be made regarding the company leadership.”

“What are you talking about?”

Whitmore looks genuinely surprised. “You’re the primary shareholder of Reed Cosmetics.”

I look between him and Grimm. “I think you must be mistaken.”

He shakes his head, looking disgusted. “I never cared for your father, Miss Reed. If today has proven anything, it’s that my instincts are still sharp.” He gestures toward one of the tables in front of the bench.

Grimm raises a brow, and I understand the silent question—Shall I get you out of this?

I reply with the smallest shake of my head, then take a seat at the table, with Mr. Whitmore across from me and Grimm at my side.

“The controlling shares of Reed Cosmetics belonged to your mother,” he says.

“It was she who conceived of the company and fought to not only create it but to build it from the ground up. And she, of course, was the majority shareholder. The company holds the Reed name, but it’s not a subsidiary of Reed Industries as your father often suggests.

Quite the opposite. Reed Cosmetics is the majority shareholder of Reed Industries, a company Victor set up after Reed Cosmetics took off in the market. ”

I can only gape at him. “Why do I not know any of this?”

Mr. Whitmore meets my eyes. “Your father was good at keeping his secrets. But the point is that when your mother died, you inherited those shares. As you were a minor, the shares were held in trust with your father acting as proxy. Now that you’ve been declared legally competent, control reverts to you directly.

You’re effectively the CEO and majority shareholder of Reed Cosmetics.

And, by default, of Reed Industries as well. ”

The information hits me like a physical blow. My mother owned the company? All these years, I’d thought Reed Cosmetics was my father’s creation, the shining, most profitable jewel in the family jewel box.

“My mother’s company,” I whisper, the words bringing both pain and a strange, unexpected comfort. Something of hers has found its way back to me, across the years and through all my father’s lies.

“Your mother was quite a visionary,” Whitmore says. “Though to be fair, your father did expand the business considerably after her death. The board is prepared to convene an emergency meeting as soon as you’re available.”

A gift from my mother. A connection to her that my father had hidden from me, just like he’d hidden the truth about her death. Tears prick at my eyes, a complicated mix of grief and gratitude washing through me.

The room seems to tilt as emotions swirl around me, the strain of the day catching up with me. Liam’s hand tightens on mine.

“Not today,” he says firmly to Whitmore. “She’ll contact you when she’s ready.”

Whitmore looks like he wants to argue, but something in Liam’s expression makes him think better of it.

“Of course,” he says, handing me a business card.

“At your convenience, Ms. Reed. But I urge you not to delay. Reed Cosmetics—or perhaps I should say Lydia’s legacy—is a multi-billion-dollar enterprise, and a leadership vacuum creates …

opportunities for others. We’ll keep this away from the press for now, but under the circumstances, I would expect a leak.

And Ms. Reed, be careful. Your father is a man with a quick temper. As, I fear, you already know.”

He turns without waiting for my reply. As he walks away, I turn to Grimm, my head spinning. “Did you know about this?”

“Not a bit,” he admits. “But it makes sense. Victor Reed could never have built something so successful on his own.”

“I don’t know anything about running a cosmetics empire,” I say, panic edging into my voice. “I can’t?—”

“Hey.” He cups my face in his hands, forcing me to focus on him. “One thing at a time. Right now, Reed Cosmetics and Reed Industries have excellent management. They’ll be fine. We, however, need to get out of here.”

He’s right. The courtroom is filling with more reporters, all clamoring for a statement, for a photo, for a piece of the sensational story that’s unfolding. Ruby presses close on my other side, forming a human barrier as we make our way toward the exit.

We make it as far as the courthouse steps before the full force of the media descends. Cameras flash, voices overlap, and a cacophony of questions are tossed at me.

“Ms. Reed! How does it feel to be declared legally competent?”

“Mr. Grimm! Is this romance a cover for a corporate merger between Reed Cosmetics and Grimm International?”

“Sasha! Will you be pressing charges against your father?”