Chapter 9 - The Final Desperation
While Nadine and Julian were building their future on the coast, Grant Wescott was drowning in the ruins of his past.
Sitting in his messy, alcohol-stained apartment in Soho, Grant stared at his computer screen.
Wescott Capital was bankrupt. The board had authorized a emergency restructuring plan that sold all remaining corporate assets to Cross Holdings for pennies on the dollar.
His father had suffered a mild stroke from the stress and was currently recovering in a private clinic. Camille Drake had left him three days ago, packing her bags and taking two hundred thousand dollars worth of jewelry he had bought her on his corporate card.
Grant had lost everything—his money, his title, his social standing, and his future.
And he blamed one person.
Nadine.
"She ruined me," Grant muttered to himself, his eyes bloodshot, his hands shaking as he poured another glass of cheap bourbon. "She walked out on me. She humiliated me in front of the whole city."
His twisted, arrogant mind couldn't accept the simple truth: he had ruined himself through his own greed, vanity, and cruelty. He genuinely believed that if he could force Nadine to speak to him—if he could intimidate her one last time—he could reverse his fortune.
On Monday morning, Grant waited outside the private underground parking garage of Fletcher Packaging.
He sat inside a rented sedan, a heavy iron crowbar resting on the passenger seat beside him. He was desperate, unhinged, and completely stripped of his polished upper-class composure.
At 8:15 AM, the emerald Bentley rolled into the garage, parking in the reserved executive bay.
Nadine stepped out, holding a leather folder and her coffee cup, looking gorgeous in a burgundy wrap dress.
As she walked toward the private executive elevator, a shadow lunged out from behind a concrete pillar.
"Nadine!" Grant screamed, his voice wild, erratic, and terrifying.
Nadine spun around, her heart jumping into her throat.
Grant stood five feet away, his suit rumpled, his hair unwashed, holding the iron crowbar in his shaking hand.
"Grant?" Nadine breathed, taking a cautious step back toward the elevator wall. "What are you doing here? Security is going to—"
"Security isn't coming!" Grant yelled, taking a erratic step forward. "You ruined my life, Nadine! You and that criminal Julian Cross! You stole my family's company! You humiliated me!"
Nadine forced herself to remain calm, her hazel eyes locking onto his erratic face. She realized instantly that he was dangerous—driven mad by the loss of his unearned privilege.
"You ruined yourself, Grant," Nadine said firmly, keeping her voice steady. "You brought your mistress to our wedding. You tried to trap me with my father's debt. You made your choices."
"I was going to give you a life!" Grant screamed, raising the iron bar. "You were nothing before me! Just a fat, quiet girl living in your father's shadow! Nobody wanted you!"
Nadine stood tall. She didn't cringe. She didn't beg. She looked at him with cool, absolute disgust.
"I am a powerful woman, Grant," Nadine said coldly. "And you are a pathetic coward."
Grant roared in rage, lifting the bar to strike—
THUD!
A massive hand grabbed Grant’s wrist from behind, freezing the heavy iron bar in mid-air with effortless, terrifying strength.
Grant gasped in horror as he was spun around like a rag doll.
Julian Cross stood behind him.
Julian’s face was an absolute nightmare of dark, lethal rage. His storm-gray eyes were cold enough to freeze blood, his broad frame towering over Grant like a judge delivering an execution sentence.
Without saying a single word, Julian twisted Grant’s wrist until a sharp CRACK echoed through the concrete garage.
Grant shrieked in agony, dropping the iron bar onto the floor.
Julian grabbed Grant by his collar and slammed him face-first into the concrete pillar.
BOOM!
Grant collapsed onto his knees, crying, clutching his broken wrist, blood pouring from his nose onto his ruined shirt.
Julian stood over him, stepping on Grant’s hand with his heavy leather shoe, leaning down until his face was inches from Grant’s trembling ear.
"If I ever see your face within five miles of my wife again," Julian whispered in a dark, raspy tone that made Grant freeze in absolute terror, "I won't call the police, Grant. I will make you disappear so completely that even your father won't remember your name. Do you understand me?"
Grant nodded frantically, sobbing against the concrete floor. "Yes! Yes! I'm sorry! Please!"
Julian lifted his shoe, turning away from the pathetic mess on the floor.
Three armed security guards rushed out of the elevator doors, instantly pinning Grant to the ground.
"Take him outside and hand him to the precinct commanders," Julian ordered flatly. "Ensure he is charged with aggravated assault and felony harassment."
Julian walked over to Nadine, pulling her into his arms, checking her face and arms with frantic, loving concern. "Did he touch you, my love? Are you hurt?"
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Nadine wrapped her arms tightly around his broad chest, burying her face into his coat, feeling his steady, powerful heart beating against her cheek.
"I'm fine, Julian," she whispered softly, looking up into his eyes with a warm, triumphant smile. "I'm completely fine."
