Chapter 437

Chapter 437:

The moment passed.

“Everything’s perfect,” he lied, kissing her forehead. “Just missing home a little.”

“We can go back early if you want.”

“No,” he said quickly. Too quickly. “These weeks with you have been the happiest of my life.”

This, at least, wasn’t a lie. Despite the weight of his secret mission, despite the daily communications with his team digging through Kane Industries’ past, despite the constant fear of discovery—these moments with Camille had shown him a joy he’d forgotten could exist.

She smiled up at him, the last rays of sunset catching in her eyes. “Mine too.”

Later, as she slept against his chest, Alexander stared at the ceiling, the familiar war raging inside him. The envelope that had arrived that rainy day had set him on a path of revenge that felt righteous and clear. James Whitfield had helped him assemble a team of investigators and hackers who could access the records Victoria thought were buried forever.

Each day brought new evidence of her ruthlessness, new proof that his uncle’s death hadn’t been an unfortunate side effect but a calculated outcome. Each night brought Camille’s warmth and trust.

His phone buzzed softly on the nightstand. Another message from his team, labeled only “Guardian” in his contacts.

New documents recovered from archives. Victoria personally directed forensic accountants to fabricate evidence of Pierce Enterprises’ insolvency. Created false impression with creditors that company was failing. Triggered loan recalls that drove final crisis.

Alexander read the message twice, fresh fury building in his chest. They had faked financial reports to trick his uncle’s lenders into pulling support. That went beyond aggressive business tactics into outright fraud.

He started typing a response, but stopped when Camille shifted against him. His fingers hovered over the screen, torn between the promise he’d made to his uncle’s memory and the promise he’d made to Camille at the altar. “Victoria Kane has taken everything,” his uncle’s note had said. But that wasn’t quite true, was it? She hadn’t taken Camille. Not yet. But she would lose her when the truth came out. And Alexander would be the one responsible.

He set the phone down without responding, drawing Camille closer. Tomorrow he would answer. Tomorrow he would continue the hunt through Victoria’s sins. Tomorrow he would move one step closer to fulfilling his vow.

𝓛⍺𝕥𝒆𝕊𝓽 с𝒉αρ𝐭𝓮𝓇𝓈 gⲁⅼ𝓷𝗈ν𝓮𝗅𝗌﹒с𝑜ｍ

Tonight, in the darkness of their Italian villa, he allowed himself to imagine a different outcome. One where his love for Camille somehow coexisted with justice.

For his uncle. One where the envelope had never arrived at his door two days before their engagement party.

But such dreams evaporated with the coming dawn, burned away by the harsh light of memory—his twenty-one-year-old self cutting down his uncle’s body, the sound of the 911 operator asking him to describe exactly what he was seeing, the cold certainty that someone was responsible for pushing Richard Pierce past his breaking point.

Now, he knew exactly who that someone was. The woman Camille called mother. The woman who had given his wife a second chance at life. The woman he had sworn to destroy.

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