Chapter 230
JULIAN’S POV
My heart slammed against my chest continuously. I had no idea if I was being too loud or too quiet but right now, I was so frustrated and badly wanted to knock everything off.
My knees stayed on the cold floor of the study, my fingers hovering over the keypad of the safe tucked beneath the oak cabinetry. I had tried three combinations already, I used dates that meant something to Richard, or at least to the version of himself he projected to the world but each one resulted in a mocking red flash.
Think, damn it. I wiped a bead of sweat from my upper lip. Richard didn’t value sentiment; he valued power. I started to reach for the keypad again, my mind racing through the dates of his biggest political acquisitions, when the phone in my pocket let out a sharp vibration.
I nearly jumped out of my skin. Scrambling to pull it out, I saw Catherine’s name lighting up the screen. I didn’t answer; I swiped to the message she’d just sent.
CATH: We couldn’t keep Richard on the call for long. He is back. He’s coming up now. GET OUT.
The blood drained from my face. I looked toward the doors, and as if on cue, the muffled sound of a car door slamming reached me through the window, followed by heavy footsteps echoing in the hallway. The aggressive thuds of his footsteps could be heard.
Oh, shit. I had to be out of here as fast as I could.
There was no time to make it to the terrace doors without the click of the lock giving me away. I looked around the room, my vision tunneling. His huge desk was too exposed. The curtains were too obvious. I hurried for the space behind the floor-to-ceiling bookshelf near the corner. It was a small, dark alcove sure enough to hide me for the meantime until Richard left.
I barely tucked my feet in before the door to the study swung open with a violent bang.
Richard stormed in, the scent of expensive tobacco trailing after him. He didn’t turn on the overhead lights; the dim glow of the desk lamp cast long, distorted shadows across the room. He stood in the center of the office for a moment, his chest heaving, his eyes scanning the space with a paranoid intensity that made me stop breathing.
He was furious, furious over whatever Catherine and Kiera must have told him over that call. He deserved it!
I pressed my back against the wall, the wood biting into my spine. Through the narrow gap in the shelving, I watched him.
He didn’t go for the desk. He went straight for the oak cabinet. He knelt exactly where I had been seconds before. He hesitated for a heartbeat, his eyes darting toward the door, then his fingers moved over the keypad with practiced speed.
1-0-2-9.
Wait! 29th October? My mother’s birthday. How dare he?! How could he do this? Get rid of an innocent, and use her birth date as his pass lock?
I could never have guessed it right.
Richard reached inside, pulling out a thick, black leather-bound file. He flipped through the pages like a gun was pointed to his head, his hands trembling slightly. He checked the ledgers, probably the signed medical authorizations, and the correspondence logs. I could hear his ragged breathing in the silence of the room.
“Still here,” he whispered to himself, and it was followed by a short evil laugh. “Those fools p>
He wiped the sweat from his face with the back of his hand, his features twisting into a mask of cold resolve. He shoved the files back in, locked the safe, and stood up, moving toward his desk with a renewed, dark energy. He picked up the landline, his fingers stabbing at the buttons.
“It’s me,” Richard said into the receiver, his voice dropping into a low register. “I just got a call. Someone is threatening me. They mentioned Madeleine p>
He fell silent, listening to the person on the other end. My blood turned to ice. He wasn’t calling a lawyer; he was calling a fixer.
“I don’t care how you do it,” Richard continued, his voice devoid of any human emotion. “I need you to find out who this person is. Trace the call, check the logs—I don’t care. Just find them and make sure they suffer the same fate as Madeleine p>
A cold, paralyzing wave of panic washed over me. The same fate. He wasn’t just hiding her; he was ending anyone who knew she existed. My lungs felt like they were collapsing. My chest tightened with a suffocating weight that pressed down on me. I tried to take a breath, but it came out as a tiny, wheezing gasp.
In the silence of the room, it sounded like a gunshot.
Richard froze. He didn’t hang up the phone. He slowly turned his head toward the bookshelf, his eyes narrowing into slits.
“Who’s there?” he demanded, his voice a low growl.
He started to step toward my hiding spot, his hand reaching for a heavy glass paperweight on his desk. My heart was thundering so hard I was sure he could see my shirt vibrating. I was trapped. I couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe.
Just as he reached the edge of the desk, a sharp, insistent knock came on the study door.
Richard jumped, the paperweight slipping from his grip and thudding onto the blotter. “Who is it?” he yelled, his voice cracking with a rare moment of fright.
He ignored the noise from the corner and hurried to the door, pulling it open.
Catherine stood there, her face a mask of perfectly crafted concern. She didn’t look past him into the room, she kept her eyes locked on his.
“Richard? Is everything okay? I heard the door slam all the way from my room,” she said, her voice soft but steady.
Richard let out an exhale, trying to smooth his features into his usual fake expression of arrogant calm. “I’m fine, Catherine. Just a stressful day at the office. I’m busy at the moment. I’ll speak to you later p>
“Sorry but… Dante is in the living room,” Catherine said, her tone suggesting urgency. “He says it’s important. Something about the engagement schedule. He said he couldn’t wait p>
Richard stiffened. He looked back into the study, his eyes lingering on the bookshelf for a terrifying second. He looked conflicted… like he wasn’t sure if he heard right, like he wanted to search the room, to tear the furniture apart and make sure there was no one there. But of course, the mention of Dante and the political leverage he represented was a stronger pull.
“Fine,” Richard muttered, nodding slightly. He stepped out of the room, pulling the door shut behind him. “Tell him I’m coming p>
I remained there, out of breath, scared, shaking.