Julian showed up at the penthouse on a Thursday night.
Declan was working late. I was alone, curled up on the couch with a book, when the doorbell rang. I checked the monitor. My heart stopped.
Julian. Standing in the hallway, hands in his pockets, looking almost... nervous.
I shouldn't have answered. Every instinct told me to ignore it, to call Declan, to wait. But something in his expression made me pause. He wasn't smiling. He wasn't smug. He just looked tired.
I opened the door.
"Olivia." His voice was quiet. "We need to talk."
"About what?"
"About your father."
My blood went cold. But I stepped aside and let him in.
He walked through the living room slowly, taking it in. The photos on the walls. The flowers on the table. The evidence of a life built together.
"You love him," he said. It wasn't a question.
"Yes."
"Really love him. Not the contract. Not the money."
"Really love him." I crossed my arms. "Say what you came to say, Julian."
He turned to face me. For once, there was no performance. No charm. Just a man, stripped bare.
"I know about Victor Cross."
I went still.
"I know he's the one who ordered your father's death. I know he's in prison. I know you've been researching him." He paused. "I also know you haven't found everything."
"What do you mean?"
He reached into his jacket, pulled out an envelope. Held it out to me.
I didn't take it. "What is that?"
"Evidence. The real kind. Names, dates, locations. Proof that Victor Cross didn't act alone." His eyes held mine. "He had help. Someone inside. Someone who protected him for years."
"Who?"
"Open it."
I took the envelope. My hands shook as I pulled out the documents. Photographs. Statements. A name I didn't recognize.
"Marcus Webb," I read aloud.
"Former lawyer. Worked for Cross. Helped him hide money, hide evidence, hide from prosecution." Julian's voice was flat. "He's been in witness protection for fifteen years. Living under a new name. New identity. New life."
"And you know where he is."
"I do."
"Why are you telling me this?"
He was quiet for a long moment. Then: "Because I'm not the villain in this story. I never was."
"You tried to destroy Declan. You tried to destroy us."
"Yes." No defense. No excuse. Just acknowledgment. "Because I was jealous. Because he had everything I wanted. The company. The respect. The love." His voice cracked, just slightly. "Our grandfather loved him. Not me. Never me."
I didn't know what to say.
"I'm not asking for forgiveness." He set the envelope on the table. "I'm just asking you to know the truth. All of it. And to know that I'm done. No more games. No more schemes. I'm done."
He walked toward the door.
"Julian."
He stopped.
"Why now?"
He turned. For a moment, something flickered in his eyes. Pain, maybe. Loss.
"Because I saw the article. The interview. The way you look at each other." He swallowed. "I've never had that. I probably never will. But seeing it..really seeing it..made me realize what I've been doing. What I've become."
He opened the door.
"Tell Declan I'm sorry. For everything. I won't bother you again."
He left.
I stood there for a long time, staring at the closed door, the envelope on the table, the weight of everything Julian had just given me.
Declan came home an hour later.
He found me on the balcony, the envelope in my hands, the city glittering below.
"Olivia?" He crossed to me. "What's wrong?"
I handed him the envelope. "Julian was here."
His face went hard. "What did he want?"
"Read it."
He pulled out the documents. Read silently. When he finished, he looked at me.
"Marcus Webb. Witness protection."
"Yes."
"He knows where this man is?"
"Apparently."
Declan was quiet for a long moment. Then: "We find him."
"What?"
"Webb. We find him. We get the truth." He took my hands. "Your father deserves that. You deserve that."
"Declan, this man is in witness protection. We can't just"
"We can try." His eyes held mine. "I have resources. Connections. People who can dig where others can't. Let me help you."
I stared at him. At this man who'd started as a contract and become my partner in everything.
"You'd do that?"
"I'd do anything for you." He kissed my forehead. "That's what love is. That's what you taught me."
I cried then. Not sad tears. Something else.
"I love you," I whispered.
"I love you too." He pulled me close. "We'll find him together. I promise."
The next morning, we called Diana Reyes.
She arrived within hours, tablet in hand, expression focused. We spread the documents across the dining table and told her everything.
"Witness protection is complicated," she said. "But not impossible. If this man is still alive, I can find him."
"How long?" I asked.
"Weeks. Maybe months. Depends on how deep he's buried." She looked at me. "But I'll find him. That's a promise."
After she left, Declan pulled me close.
"Whatever happens, we face it together."
"I know."
"And when we find him"
"When we find him, I want to look him in the eye. I want him to know who I am. I want him to know that my father's daughter didn't stop."
Declan kissed my forehead. "Then that's what we'll do."