Julian was seated in his home office,which was also his study, totally oblivious to the chaos on the headlines.
In reality he wasn't really worried about the 'Vegas vow' shenanigan. All that weighed on him was what it could lead to? An inquiry into the business he just acquired, investigations that would expose ethical issues and if stretched too far, the criminal liability.
The second text, was much more sinister, even though he didn't want anyone digging around his company, as he had skeletons to hide obviously.
The glow of his tablet threw harsh light across his study. He leaned back in the leather chair, staring through the screen and into memory.
Two weeks ago, in that same chair, Charles had sat across from him, steady as a stone, denying everything.
Julian had slid the forged documents across the desk, his signature duplicated perfectly. Charles's expression hadn't flickered.
"Someone's trying to frame me," Charles had said then, voice even, almost bored. "You know me better than that."
Julian definitely knew him better, than to expect a confession. Confronting him again would only tip him off.
So Julian had quietly hired a Mark, a private investigator. He was unconnected to Blackwood or Stonehenge. All he had to do was tail Charles, to track movements, to unravel the puppet master. He knew he was just a pawn being used.
He couldn't trust anyone.He'd started to pace, the way he did whenever his mind was clouded. He abruptly leaned against the study's windows, Julian's mind played through possibilities.
A rival board member, a grudge-bearing employee, an informant planted or a coordinated attack from his competitors outside.
Oh the frightening possibilities were endless. His gut told him Charles wasn't acting alone. A forged signature this precise was just one thread in a larger weave.
The doorbell chimed, a low, elegant tone that didn't suit emergencies.Julian didn't need the butler's voice from the hallway to know who had arrived.
Camila Blackwood, his mother, never called ahead. She simply announced herself by her perfumes and simply materializing where she needed to be.
She entered without waiting for permission, her jewelry, gleaming beneath the recessed lights. Her black gown looked like she was in mourning.
"Mother," Julian said, setting the tablet face down. "To what do I owe the pleasure?
"Camila gave him a look that translated into don't play dumb.
She closed the study door softly, the way one might seal a vault.
"We're holding a press conference," she said. "Tomorrow morning."
Julian's jaw tightened. "You came here to inform me or to discuss it?"
"There's no time to discuss when the family name is at stake." She crossed the room and sat on the arm of the sofa, back straight."I'm handling it."
"You're bleeding in public," she replied coldly. "Handling it is what you tell shareholders when the boat has already had its fill of water."
He exhaled through his nose. The truth was, she wasn't wrong. But he hated being cornered, not even by someone who shared his blood.
"Do you want me to stand there and feed them talking points? That will just invite more questions."
"What it invites," Camila said, "is the perception that Blackwood isn't ashamed of his decisions. We take life on our own terms."
Julian rubbed his temple, thinking of the private investigator's last message. Charles is meeting an unknown woman tonight. Will report back. He couldn't show Camila the doubt, the gears turning behind his still face.
Camila's gaze sharpened. "Your wife is still not back?"Julian looked up. "Ashley needed time to breathe. She's not used to reporters clawing through her trash."
"A contract marriage does not excuse disappearing acts," Camila said, voice soft but laced with steel.
"She should be here. Beside you. That's what the world needs to see."
"She's stronger than you think, I think she needed that break" Julian said.
Camila arched a brow. "Strength isn't silence. Strength is showing up."
"She will, when she's ready." His voice carried more certainty than he felt. "Ashley is equal to the task. You don't have to doubt or hound her like you did yesterday, despite my warnings."
Camila's lips curved faintly not quite a smile, not quite approval. "Equal to the task of being your wife?""Yes." He pulled out his phone under the desk's shadow. His thumb hovered, then moved almost on its own. He typed, Where are you. He didn't punctuate it. It felt too desperate and hit send without lifting his eyes from his mother.
Camila watched him, always watching. "Julian," she said quietly, "Like I told your wife, appearances aren't decoration. You of all people should know this."
Of course he knew and he also knew Ashley had been thrown rudely into their word. He wasn't going to deny her the space she needed to centre herself. He'd avoided calling her, so she'd take all the time to recharge, draw strength from her loved ones without him getting in the way.
He met her gaze squarely. " Sometimes you need a heartbeat."
For a second, Camila's expression softened. Then she stood, smoothing her gown. "Be ready at ten. The press conference is non-negotiable. I'll brief the PR team on my way home, your cousin will be here early to prep with you both, if she decides to come home."
Julian rose too, though slower, every inch of him standing well over six-foot. "Do you ever get tired of orchestrating everyone's moves?"Camila gave a small, sharp laugh. "I'd get your wife home if I were you."
He quickly glanced at his phone, but the screen stayed stubbornly blank, no reply from Ashley. His pulse beat a little faster.
He imagined her at Brooke's office, home, venting, or maybe in her car, needing space. But the timing gnawed at him.
Camila reached the door. "Don't underestimate how quickly allies become liabilities," she said lightly. "And don't let sentiments blind you to strategy."
Julian thought of Charles's smooth denial, the PI's quiet pursuit, the forged signature's perfect lines. He thought of Ashley's laugh, the one he'd only heard when he wasn't looking. And hated the suggestion that she was anything but loyal.
Camila exited the study. A moment later, he heard the distant hum of her car exiting the manor.Julian stepped to the window, watching the driveway's curve illuminated by the security lights.
His phone remained silent in his hand, a cold rectangle against his palm.
Headlights crested the hill, Ashley's car, its wipers carving rhythmic arcs through the drizzle. She slowed as Camila's car approached from the opposite direction. For a heartbeat, their vehicles faced each other at the gate, two worlds crossing.
Camila's window lowered just enough for her eyes to meet Ashley's through the glass. No words passed, but Julian could almost hear the silent exchange, challenge, curiosity, maybe warning.
Ashley's headlights angled toward the house as Camila's taillights disappeared down the drive. The gate closed firmly behind them with a quiet mechanical sigh.
Julian stayed at the window, the tablet forgotten on the desk, the leak momentarily pushed aside. Now, Ashley's arrival felt like a promise fulfilled, he caught himself relieved now that she was home.