Chapter 210

Chapter 210:

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 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.

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