Miles and the bodyguards formed a barrier to keep the reporters from crowding Lucian.

They needn’t have bothered.

The moment the journalists saw him, they backed away on their own. Nobody wanted to offend Fairhaven’s Devil.

I stopped and watched them hurry past me toward the conference room.

Julian had just been brought out. They surrounded him so tightly even the police couldn’t get through.

“Move!” Grant shouted. “Stop obstructing the investigation!”

The clicking cameras swallowed his voice.

Microphones pushed toward Julian’s face.

“Is it true the investment you secured was actually stolen money?”

“Were you willing to do anything to become CEO? What’s wrong with you?”

“There are rumors you’re involved in your wife’s disappearance. Will you answer them?”

“After years of standing behind Stella and playing the perfect gentleman, did you secretly grow to resent her?”

Every question found a weak point.

Every camera recorded the slightest change in his livid face.

The gentle, honorable image he had spent years cultivating shattered beneath their scrutiny.

He looked stripped naked.

I stood outside the crowd, watching quietly.

Once, seeing him cornered like this would have broken my heart. I would have rushed in and put myself between him and every accusation.

Now I felt nothing.

It wasn’t enough.

Not even a hundredth of what he had done to me.

For a moment, I wondered whether he might experience the smallest trace of shame.

Then his eyes changed.

He calmed almost instantly.

And began performing again.

“This is a malicious setup!” he declared, neck rigid, face flushed with righteous anger. “Someone is deliberately targeting me. Please don’t let yourselves be manipulated.”

The words came more smoothly as he continued. Innocence and wounded dignity returned to his face.

“My love for my wife is genuine. I swear it. If I’ve ever wronged Stella, may lightning strike me dead. May I die a terrible death.”

His shamelessness was almost impressive.

If acting required commitment, Julian deserved every award.

He suddenly looked toward me with blazing anger.

For a second, it felt as though he could see me.

I knew he couldn’t.

I turned.

Lucian stood in the open elevator a few yards behind me.

He met Julian’s gaze without a flicker of concern.

Their eyes seemed to collide through my body. The air tightened with hostility.

Lucian looked at him as though he were trash.

I followed him downstairs.

The lobby’s access controls had been disabled. Several stern men in black guarded the entrances and lowered their heads respectfully when Lucian passed.

So that was how the reporters had gotten upstairs so easily.

He had let them in.

Watching his back, I finally understood.

The real purpose of the investment trap wasn’t simply to have Julian arrested.

Financial crimes were serious, but the evidence would be examined carefully. He might not remain in custody once the investigation progressed.

Lucian wanted something more immediate.

He wanted Julian exposed in public.

Humiliated.

His reputation destroyed.

Nothing could hurt Julian more.

He was deliberately tormenting him.

That surprised me.

Lucian hated trouble. He didn’t waste time on people he considered worthless, and he had always despised Julian.

He could have dealt with him directly. Bringing down the entire Whitmore Group wouldn’t have been especially difficult.

Why choose the most elaborate way to make him suffer?

“Sir. It’s nearly time,” Miles reminded him discreetly. “The castle sent another message half an hour ago. They’re waiting for you.”

Blackwood Castle.

The residence of the family’s successive heads, currently occupied by Edmund Blackwood.

During my battles with Lucian, I had investigated the family extensively and discovered almost nothing. Even learning Edmund’s name had required considerable effort.

Beyond that, there was simply no way in.

Few people even knew where the castle stood.

Impatience crossed Lucian’s eyes.

Before he could answer, Adrian called.

“We found her.”

Lucian had ordered him to search the whole city. Alive or dead.

Had they found what remained of me?

I pressed close to listen.

His fingers tightened around the phone.

“Alive?”

He didn’t ask where I was.

He asked whether I was alive.

Standing beside him, I realized he was trembling.

Adrian drew a quiet breath.

“No. And the body… it’s bad. But it might not be Stella.”

Still trying to soften it.

I smiled bitterly.

It probably was me.

“Bad” hardly covered it. My heart removed. My skin stripped. My bones taken.

Even experienced detectives might struggle to look.

Lucian closed his eyes hard.

Several seconds passed.

“Send me the address.”

It arrived as the call ended.

Miles reached for the rear door.

Lucian was already behind the wheel.

Miles blinked, hurried around toward the passenger side, and barely took a step before the Maybach shot away.

He was left standing in the wind, staring after us.

Fortunately, being a ghost meant I could keep up.

I looked at Lucian’s face, then at the climbing speedometer.

For the first time since dying, I wanted a seat belt.

I had learned something new about him.

When this man lost his mind, even a ghost had reason to be afraid.