Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 92334 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 462(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92334 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 462(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
“You mean you want to pass them off as newly discovered designs,” I say coldly. “Profit from her name one more time.”
“I know that’s what you plan on doing! I’ve heard you have a top secret collection you’re working on. I know what you’re doing. I’m not fucking stupid. Those designs aren’t yours to use as your own. They’re my right. She was my wife.”
“And now she’s gone.” The accusation remains unspoken between us.
He straightens. “You always were a self-righteous little prick.”
I sigh. “Are you done? Because I am.” I’m not going to give Julian even a sliver of information on what I have planned. Let him think what he wants.
I watch him pace, three steps left, three steps right. The same pattern he’s followed since we were young and hungry, plotting our way to the top. Some habits die hard.
“You know I won’t stop,” Julian adds. “If I can’t have the originals, I’ll create them. The ‘Immortal Claire Collection’ launches in February one way or the other. Pieces she was ‘working on’ before her accident.” His smile cuts like glass. “The world is so hungry for her genius, they’ll believe anything.”
“Forgeries,” I say flatly.
“Call it what you want. Who could prove otherwise? You? The man who kept her final work hidden for five years? And you can try to beat me to the punch with her half-finished stuff, but there’s no way you can beat me to February.”
I keep my expression neutral despite the contempt rising within me.
“I’ll have those designs, Cole. One way or another.”
“The case will stay locked.”
He laughs, cold and knowing. “You know . . . when Claire died”—his voice catches, a perfect performance of grief—“I needed time. And you used it against me. Turned everything I built into your sanitized corporate fantasy.”
“When she went off that cliff,” I say carefully, watching his face.
His face goes still, eyes cold. “Black ice. A tragic accident.”
My hands stay flat on the desk. Perfectly still. But something cold settles in my chest.
He stares at me for a long moment. “When I’m done, everyone will remember Claire’s genius as mine to share with the world. You’ll be a footnote. A petty business rival who tried to keep her light hidden.”
I stay seated, keeping my voice level. “You can try.”
“Oh, I’ll do more than try.” He heads for the door, then pauses. “You know there are a lot of young designers out there that come close to Claire’s designs. Of course, they aren’t Claire, but they can try. And well . . . if they fail, there’s always another one. Disposable. Everyone is disposable.”
The door closes behind him. I open the right drawer, running my fingers over the cold metal beneath the files before reaching for my phone.
Knox answers on the first ring. “My office. Now.”
He appears within minutes, closing the door behind him. Knox hasn’t changed since he left Special Forces—same crew cut, same watchful eyes, same ability to blend into the background until needed.
“The man’s unhinged.” I keep my voice low. “He knows about the line and the launch but hasn’t connected all the dots yet.”
Knox nods once. “Does he know about Sloane?”
“No. He thinks I’m going to steal Claire’s designs for this launch. Do what he wants to do.” I slide the drawer shut. “He still plans to launch the fake Claire line. He mentioned he had designers trying to mimic her work. But he still has the February date. So as long as we beat him to the date . . . But—”
“You’re worried about Sloane?”
“Double her security detail. But quietly. She doesn’t need to know about any of this. He also mentioned ‘disposable designers.’ I’m not sure what that’s all about, but can you look into it?”
Knox leaves without another word. He understands what’s at stake. He was there when Julian started pushing boundaries, when accidents started happening to our competitors. When those accidents turned into something darker.
After Knox leaves, I stand at the window overlooking the city. The streets below are starting to fill with morning traffic. Somewhere out there, Julian’s already putting his next move into play. He’s too close to what I care about most. First Claire’s designs, and now Sloane herself.
I grab my phone, pulling up the security feed of Sloane’s studio. She’s working, completely absorbed in her designs, unaware of the danger circling closer. The knife twist of guilt in my gut is unexpected. I brought her into this war with Julian without telling her the full truth. I told myself it was to protect her, but was it? Or was it to protect my chance at finally destroying him?
Five years I’ve waited, building toward this moment. Sloane’s collection replacing Julian’s forged Claire pieces, hitting him where it hurts. But watching her work, I realize with sudden clarity: If it comes down to revenge or her safety, there’s no choice at all.