Chapter 127
Chapter 127
Chapter 127
Rose stared at the photos spread across the marble countertop of Herod’s penthouse kitchen. Grainy images captured through a long–distance lens, yet clear enough to show what mattered. Camille and Alexander outside Boston Memorial Hospital. His hand holding something small. Her visible shock. Their embrace. And most damning of all, her hand afterward, a distinctive ring glinting on her finger.
“She’s engaged,” Rose whispered, the words burning her throat like acid. “He proposed and she said yes.”
She’d sent one of their hired men to follow Camille that afternoon, a precaution after Walsh had provided them with the misleading Grid information. She hadn’t expected this.
“Are you certain?” Herod asked, examining the photos over her shoulder. “The quality isn’t great.”
Rose’s fingernail stabbed at the clearest image. “Look at her finger. That’s an engagement ring.”
Herod squinted. “Could be any ring.”
“It’s not just any ring.” Rose’s voice sharpened. “I know what an engagement ring looks like, and I know my sister’s face. She’s… happy.”
The last word emerged like a curse. Her fingers curled around the edge of the photo, crumpling it slightly.
“Does this change our plans?” Herod asked carefully.
Rose didn’t answer. Her mind raced through images from their childhood, Camille always the perfect daughter, the talented musician, the brilliant student. Rose, the adopted outsider, working twice as hard for half the recognition. And now, after everything Rose had done to destroy her, Camille was engaged to a Trillionaire who gazed at her with undisguised adoration.
“Rose?” Herod prompted.
Her hand swept across the counter, sending the photos flying. “It’s not fair! Why does she get everything? The career, the money, Victoria’s approval and fortune and now him too?”
She stalked across the kitchen, her movements sharp and erratic. Herod watched her warily, keeping the marble island between them.
“We’re still going to destroy her,” he reminded her. “The Grid launch is in a week. We have the information about the western junction vulnerability…”
“Information she’ll protect now more than ever,” Rose cut in. “She has a reason to survive, a future to protect. It makes her more dangerous.”
She yanked open a cabinet, grabbed a crystal tumbler, and slammed it down. The decanter of bourbon rattled as she poured, amber liquid splashing over the rim.
“She’s going to have the life that should have been mine,” Rose continued, her voice rising. “Marriage to someone powerful, Our parents wealth, Victoria’s company, respect, admiration, all of it stolen from me.”
“Nothing’s changed,” Herod said soothingly. “Our plan remains the same. The vulnerability in the western junction…”
“Forget the junction!” Rose snapped, spinning to face him. The bourbon sloshed over her hand, unnoticed. “We need to hit her directly. No more sabotage, no more games. I want her gone.”
The naked violence in her tone made Herod pause. He’d always known Rose was ruthless, had admired that quality in her. But the woman before him now, with wild eyes and trembling hands, seemed unhinged in a way that sent warning signals through his brain.
“Directly meaning what, exactly?” he asked carefully.
Rose drained her glass in one swallow. “Meaning exactly what it sounds like. We’ve been too subtle. The Grid launch, the press, Victoria, Alexander, all of them in one place, a perfect opportunity.”
A chill ran through Herod. They had discussed more aggressive approaches before, but always in hypothetical terms. The look in Rose’s eyes now suggested something far less theoretical.
“That’s not what we agreed to,” he said, keeping his voice even. “Corporate takeover, yes. Financial ruin, yes. Physical harm is a different matter entirely.”
“Is it?” Rose’s laugh held no humor. “You’ve be Successfully unlocked! igh business. Why draw the line here?” “Because there’s no coming back from that line, nervu replied. Right now, we’re engaging in corporate warfare. What you‘ re suggesting is actual crime.”
Rose stalked toward him, her movements predatory. “Don’t pretend your hands are clean, Herod. Don’t pretend you haven’t thought about it.”
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Chapter 127
She was right, and they both knew it. He had imagined Victoria Kane’s downfall a thousand times, had pictured the
moment when she recognized him as the architect of her destruction. But there was a vast gulf between imagination and action, between revenge fantasies and actual violence.
“We need to be smart about this,” he said, trying a different approach. “Hastily planned actions lead to mistakes, and mistakes lead to prison.”
“Prison is for people who get caught,” Rose whispered, her eyes fixed on some distant point. “And Camille has gotten away with everything. Stealing Stefan. Taking my place at Kane Industries. Winning Victoria’s approval. And now an engagement ring and a fairy–tale ending?”
Her voice rose until she was nearly screaming. “No! She doesn’t get to win! Not after what I’ve suffered, what I’ve worked The crystal tumbler went flying, shattering against the wall in an explosion of glass shards. Herod flinched, watching Rose carefully. This volatility, this raw emotion overriding logic, it wasn’t part of the cold, calculating persona held partnered with “You need to calm down,” he said, regretting the words immediately.
Rose’s eyes snapped to his, narrowing dangerously. “Don’t tell me to calm down. Don’t you dare.”
She moved closer, invading his space. “You promised me her destruction. You promised me she would lose everything, just as I did.”
“And she will,” Herod assured her. “But we do it my way. Calculated. Precise. Not with some half–formed plan bom of jealousy over an engagement ring.”
Wrong move. Rose’s hand struck his face with surprising force, the crack of the slap echoing in the sleek kitchen. “Jealousy?” she hissed. “Is that what you think this is?”
Herod touched his cheek, feeling the sting. For the first time since their partnership began, he felt a whisper of fear. Not of Rose’s physical capabilities, he outmatched her there, but of her unpredictability, her willingness to burn everything down including herself.
“I think,” he said carefully, “that this news has affected you strongly, and we should take time to incorporate it into our plans properly.”
Rose stepped back, her breathing ragged. For a moment, she seemed to regain some control, smoothing her hair with shaking hands.
“Fine,” she said after a beat. “We’ll plan. But I want her to hurt, Herod. Not just her company, not just her reputation. I want her to feel what I felt when she took everything from me.”
She moved to the windows, staring out at the twinkling city lights. “I want her to know, in her final moments, that her perfect life, her engagement, her future, all of it was just an illusion.”
Herod watched her silhouette against the glass, recognizing the dangerous precipice they were approaching. The woman he had partnered with for revenge was transforming before his eyes into something more volatile, more lethal.
“I can make that happen,” he promised, though doubt crept into his mind for the first time. “But we stick to the plan. The Grid launch, the vulnerability in the western junction.”
Rose didn’t respond, continuing to stare out at the city. Herod moved to his office, needing distance, needing to think. He closed the door behind him, leaning against it as a wave of uncertainty washed over him.
This had begun as a business venture, albeit one motivated by vengeance. Take down Victoria Kane, acquire her company. dismantle her achievements, all while making a profit. Clean, strategic, controlled.
Rose’s vendetta against her sister had seemed complementary to his goals. Her inside knowledge of Camille, her ruthless determination, her willingness to do whatever necessary, all assets to his plan.
Now he wondered if he had miscalculated. If Rose’s hatred for Camille might actually be a liability rather than an advantage. If her deteriorating stability might bring them both down.
He moved to his desk, unlocking the bottom drawer where he kept contingency plans for every business venture. Inside was a slim folder containing documents he had prepared but hoped never to use, dissolution papers for his partnership with Rose, protection measures in case she ever turned against him.
His finger traced the folder’s edge, contemplating. Cutting Rose loose now would be the prudent business decision. She was becoming erratic, emotional, dangerous. Yet the thought of telling her, of watching those wild eyes turn on him with the same hatred she directed at Camille, it made his pulse quicken with uncharacteristic fear.
A crash from the kitchen interrupted his thoughts. Something else thrown, something else broken in Rose’s rage. He closed the drawer without removing the folder. Not yet. Not until after the Grid launch. He needed her for that final move, needed her knowledge of Camille’s patterns and weaknesses.
After that… after that, they would see.
Herod returned to the main room to find Rose still staring out the window, a fresh tumbler of bourbon in her hand. The floor
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around her feet glittered with fragments of whatever she had broken in his absence.
“I’ve been thinking,” he said, maintaining a safe distance. “Perhaps we should attend the Grid launch ourselves.”
Rose turned, something predatory in her movement. “Why would they allow us anywhere near it?”
“They wouldn’t,” Herod agreed. “But security will be focused on protecting the dignitaries, the press, the VIPS. With the right disguises, we could be there, watching our plan unfold up close.”
A slow, terrible smile spread across Rose’s face. “Yes,” she breathed. “I want to see her face. When it all falls apart, I want to be there.”
“Then we’ll make it happen,” Herod promised, not mentioning that his real reason was to keep Rose under his direct supervision, to prevent whatever impulsive action she might take if left alone with her spiraling thoughts.
She moved toward him, the smile still playing on her lips. “I knew you’d understand,” she murmured, reaching for him. “You‘ re the only one who ever has.”
Her kiss tasted of bourbon and desperation. Herod returned it automatically, his mind calculating even as his body responded. This volatile version of Rose was unpredictable, dangerous, but perhaps manageable, if he kept her focused on their shared goal.
Later, as Rose slept beside him, Herod lay awake staring at the ceiling. Her naked body was curled possessively around his, one arm flung across his chest like a claim. In sleep, her face had softened, the manic energy temporarily subdued.
He carefully extricated himself from her grip, moving silently to the window. The city sprawled below, millions of lives interconnected yet separate.
He glanced back at the sleeping woman, seeing not the polished socialite who he had first approached with her scheme for revenge, but something altogether more dangerous, a woman with nothing left to lose, who viewed her sister’s happiness as a personal affront, a final insult that demanded blood.
Herod had wanted Victoria Kane’s empire, her power, her legacy. He had never signed up for the madness that now slept in his bed, the unpredictable fury that might consume them all.
A week until the Grid launch. A week to either contain Rose’s volatile rage or to extricate himself from her entirely.
A week that suddenly seemed far too short, and the path ahead far too uncertain.
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