Chapter 2
Three men stepped through.
I recognized them immediately.
Richard Voss, the family's lawyer.
Thomas Hale, Charles' business partner.
And Detective Mark Reynolds.
The same detective who'd been "investigating" my wife's accident.
The same detective who'd closed the case after forty-eight hours, calling it a clear-cut drunk driving incident.
My stomach dropped.
They were all here.
All working together.
Reynolds looked at the chaos around us—Mason groaning on the floor, Rebecca unconscious by the broken poster frame, the scattered stage equipment—and raised an eyebrow.
"Lucien," he said, his voice too calm. "What's going on here?"
I didn't answer him.
I kept my body between them and Ava.
Charles finally found his voice. "He attacked them," he said, pointing at me. "Unprovoked. He's dangerous. Arrest him."
Reynolds looked at me, then at Ava.
"Daddy," she whispered, clinging to the back of my shirt.
I reached behind me, found her small hand, and squeezed it.
"It's okay, baby," I said softly. "I've got you."
Voss stepped forward, adjusting his tie. "Lucien, this has gone far enough. Charles has already filed for emergency custody of Ava. Given your... history of instability, and now this display of violence, the judge will grant it."
History of instability.
They'd been building this case against me.
The "drunk driving" accident that killed my wife.
The "erratic behavior" reports they'd filed with child protective services.
The "witnesses" who'd seen me lose my temper in public.
It was all a setup.
Every single part of it.
"And my wife?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. "Was that part of the plan too?"
Charles' face tightened.
"Elena's death was a tragedy," Voss said smoothly. "But you can't keep blaming everyone else for your own mistakes. You were the one who gave her that bottle of wine before she left. You were the one who let her drive."
Lies.
All lies.
I hadn't given Elena anything.
She'd left the house sober, angry about something Charles had said.
She'd called me from the road, crying, saying she couldn't take it anymore.
Then the line went dead.
And twenty minutes later, the police were at my door.
"I didn't do anything," I said, my voice shaking with suppressed rage. "And you know it."
Reynolds took a step forward, his hand resting on his holster. "Lucien, you need to calm down. Come with us peacefully. Ava will be fine with her grandfather. He'll take good care of her."
I looked at Charles.
At the man who'd probably orchestrated his own daughter's death.
At the man who was now trying to take my daughter from me.
At the man who'd used a four-year-old child as bait.
"No," I said.
Reynolds sighed. "Don't make this harder than it has to be."
He reached for me.
I didn't fight him.
Not yet.
Because I knew something they didn't.
Ava had heard them.
She'd heard their plans.
And somewhere in that little girl's memory was the key to everything.
I just needed to get her to safety first.
As Reynolds pulled my arms behind my back and clicked the cuffs into place, I looked at Ava.
Her eyes were wide with fear.
But she didn't cry.
She mouthed something to me.
I read her lips.
"Secret room."
My heart skipped a beat.
Secret room.
What secret room?
Then Charles spoke, and I understood.
"Take Ava to the estate," he told Voss. "She's been through enough. She needs to rest."
The estate.
Charles' massive mansion on the hill.
The place where Elena had grown up.
The place where I'd spent countless hours after we got married.
The place that had a secret room Elena had once mentioned, laughing, saying her father used it for "important meetings."
Ava had been there.
She'd heard them in that room.
She'd heard everything.
As they led me away, I gave Ava one last look.
I mouthed back to her.
"Be brave."
She nodded.
And in that moment, I knew.
May you like
This wasn't over.
It was just beginning.
