Chapter 228
JULIAN
Walking through the hallway of the Vaughn mansion felt like stepping onto a stage where the audience was composed entirely of ghosts and landmines. I adjusted my collar, checking my reflection in the gilded mirror by the stairs. My eyes were too sharp and hungry. I forced my shoulders to drop and softened my gaze until I looked like the person Richard wanted me to be: a son finally beginning to see the “wisdom” of his father’s ways.
I found him in the lounge, swirling a glass of amber liquid as he stared out the floor-to-ceiling windows at the sprawling gardens. He looked every bit the king of a crumbling empire, and for a split second, the urge to lunge at him and demand the truth about my mother nearly choked me.
But I couldn’t! The stupid plan was to get close to him and gain access.
I swallowed the bile and stepped into the room, my footsteps heavy enough to announce my presence without sounding aggressive.
“Father? Do you have a moment?” I asked, my voice pitched with just the right amount of hesitant respect.
Richard turned, his eyebrows arching in genuine surprise. He didn’t say anything at first, instead his eyes scanned me for a while and soon, a slow, smug smile spread across his face.
“Julian. I always have time for my heir when he decides to act like one. Do you need something p>
“Um… yes, dad. It’s a minor business matter regarding the project,” I said, moving to the leather armchair across from him. “I’ve been reviewing the logistics for the new dormitory wing, and I’m hitting a wall with the contractor’s latest budget. I was hoping… well, I was hoping you could give me your perspective on how to handle the overage without looking weak p>
Richard’s chest practically swelled. There was nothing he loved more than being seen as the ultimate authority on power and manipulation. He set his glass down and leaned forward, his eyes gleaming with the thrill of “mentoring” me.
“A wise question, Julian. Maturity looks good on you,” he preened, his voice dropping into that condescending, fatherly tone that used to make me see red. “Handling contractors is about leverage. You don’t just ask for a lower price; you find the one thing they’re afraid of losing and you press down until they beg to give you a discount. It’s about dominance, not math p>
I nodded, leaning in as if I were hanging on every word. “I see. I hadn’t thought about it that way p>
“You will,” Richard said, his mood elevating by the second. “You’ll need to learn these lessons quickly. We don’t have much time left before the transition begins. The engagement party is happening in exactly five days, and I’ve been personally overseeing the invites. I want that hall filled to the brim. Every influential name in this city will be there to witness the union of our families p>
I identified his plan immediately. He didn’t want a party; he wanted a fortress. He was filling the hall with witnesses because he knew we were a “protesting” family. If the engagement happened in front of five hundred of the city’s elite, it wasn’t just a marriage—it was a public contract. He was using the audience to chain me and Catherine together so tightly that breaking away would mean social suicide for both of us.
“Five days,” I repeated, keeping my voice flat. “How time flies p>
“Yes but it feels good. I want the world to see the Vaughn legacy is unshakable,” he said, reaching for his phone as it began to buzz on the side table. “Now, about that contractor p>
He broke off as he glanced at the screen. At first, Richard looked like he was going to ignore it, still riding the high of our “bonding” moment. He answered the call with a smile, his face relaxed and victorious.
“Yes? I’m in the middle of something important,” he said into the receiver.
Then, the air in the room shifted. It was like watching a statue crack in real-time. Whatever was said on the other end of the line stole the smile from his face in a heartbeat. His features froze, his skin turning a sickly, pale shade beneath his tan. His grip on the phone tightened until his knuckles were white as bone.
He hurriedly stood up, his chair scraping harshly against the hardwood floor. “What? Who the hell are you? How did you get my number p>
He didn’t even look at me. He began to stride toward the door, his movements jerky and filled with a frantic energy I had never seen from him before.
“Father? Is there a problem?” I asked, standing up and trying to sound concerned.
He ignored me completely. He didn’t offer an excuse or a dismissal; he simply moved out of the lounge and toward the front entrance with the speed of a man who felt the ground crumbling beneath his feet. I heard the front door slam, followed by the roar of an engine in the driveway.
I stood in the center of the lounge, my eyes darting towards the exit. He had moved away fast like he didn’t want me to hear his discussion.
Whatever was said on that call had rattled the most unshakeable man I knew. And it had left me with a golden, terrifying window of opportunity.
I waited sixty seconds, counting every heartbeat. The house was unnervingly quiet. No guards, no staff in this wing, just the ticking of the clock in the hall.
I moved fast.
I slipped out of the lounge and into Richard’s private study, closing the heavy door behind me with a silent click. The room smelled of expensive cigars and could feel every dark secret he hid in here. I knew I didn’t have much time. If Richard had forgotten something or if he sent a staff member back, I was dead.
I scrambled toward his desk, my fingers flying through the drawers. Nothing. Just campaign schedules, donor lists, and letters of intent. I checked the bookshelves, pulling back leather-bound volumes to see if anything was hidden behind them. Still nothing. My frustration was rising, a cold sweat breaking out across my forehead.
Richard was too smart to leave the real evidence on a shelf.
I turned my attention to the corner of the room, toward huge cabinets that housed his collection of rare spirits. I dropped to my knees, my hands searching the base of the cabinetry just as Kiera had described.
My fingers brushed against a slight indentation in the wood—a hidden latch. I pressed it, and a small panel of the floorboard slid back with a soft, mechanical hiss, revealing the cold, steel face of a floor safe.
This was it. The belly of that beast. My breath hitched as I stared at the keypad, realizing that everything I needed to destroy Richard could be sitting right beneath my fingertips.