Chapter 10
Callum was out of bed before the alarm finished its first cycle.
"Stay here," he said, already pulling on clothes. "Security's responding."
"Like hell I'm staying here."
He looked at me. Saw my face. Didn't argue.
We moved together to the monitor room, where four screens showed different angles of the building's exterior. On camera three, a figure in a dark hoodie was pressed against the service entrance, fumbling with something at the lock.
"That's not a professional," Callum said. "That's someone desperate."
His head of security, a man named Torres, spoke through the comm. "Sir, we have visual. Male, approximately six foot one. Want us to intercept?"
"Detain him," Callum said. "Carefully. I want him conscious and talking."
I watched on the screen as three security officers converged from different angles. The figure didn't even see them coming. They had him on the ground in seconds, hood pulled back.
Dylan.
His face was gaunt, hollow-eyed. He was carrying a crowbar. Just a crowbar. No plan. No backup. Just rage and a piece of metal.
"Bring him to the ground floor holding room," Callum said. "Call the police. Don't touch him."
We took the elevator down in silence. My heart was hammering, but my mind was clear.
When we walked in, Dylan was on his knees, hands zip-tied, security flanking him. He looked up and saw me.
The hatred in his eyes was almost physical.
"You took everything from me," he said. His voice was ragged. Hollow. "Everything."
"You took it from yourself," I replied.
"I built that company! I worked for years—"
"You embezzled. You cheated. You lied." I counted them off. "To your investors, to my family, and to me. This isn't revenge, Dylan. This is consequence."
He turned his gaze to Callum. Something ugly twisted his features.
"And you. You think you won? You think she actually loves you? She married you for the money, same as she was marrying me."
Callum didn't react. Didn't flinch. Just looked at him like he was studying something insignificant.
"The difference," Callum said, "is that I'm worth loving."
Dylan lunged. Got exactly nowhere. Security held him down as he thrashed, screaming things that barely counted as words.
The police arrived twelve minutes later.
Breaking and entering. Criminal trespassing. Possession of a weapon with intent. Combined with the pending fraud charges and the existing restraining order violation from my parents' house, Dylan was looking at serious time.
As they loaded him into the squad car, he locked eyes with me through the window.
I held his gaze until the car pulled away.
Then I turned to Callum. He was watching me, not the car.
"It's over," he said.
"Is it?"
"The fraud case will seal it. With tonight's charges added, no judge is giving him bail. His lawyers already abandoned him when the money dried up. This is done."
I exhaled. A long, slow breath I felt like I'd been holding for years.
Callum pulled me into his arms. Right there in the building lobby, security still milling around, cameras still rolling.
"You're safe," he said against my hair. "I've got you."
I let myself lean into him. Let myself feel it.
For the first time in four years, I wasn't bracing for the next hit.
When we got back upstairs, the adrenaline had faded and exhaustion hit like a wall. Callum guided me to the couch, wrapped a blanket around my shoulders, and put a cup of tea in my hands.
He sat beside me, close but not crowding.
"Serena."
"Hm?"
"I know we got married fast. And I know the circumstances were insane. But—" He paused. "I don't want this to be just a strategy that worked out. I want this to be real."
I looked at him. This man who'd given me his name, his assets, his protection, and his patience without asking for anything back.
"It's already real," I said.
His smile was worth everything.
Then his phone buzzed. He glanced at it.
"What now?" I groaned.
He showed me the screen. An email from the District Attorney's office.
**WARRANT ISSUED FOR DYLAN LAWSON. FORMAL CHARGES: WIRE FRAUD, EMBEZZLEMENT, CRIMINAL HARASSMENT. TRIAL DATE SET.**
"Now," Callum said, "it's really over."
"Stay here," he said, already pulling on clothes. "Security's responding."
"Like hell I'm staying here."
He looked at me. Saw my face. Didn't argue.
We moved together to the monitor room, where four screens showed different angles of the building's exterior. On camera three, a figure in a dark hoodie was pressed against the service entrance, fumbling with something at the lock.
"That's not a professional," Callum said. "That's someone desperate."
His head of security, a man named Torres, spoke through the comm. "Sir, we have visual. Male, approximately six foot one. Want us to intercept?"
"Detain him," Callum said. "Carefully. I want him conscious and talking."
I watched on the screen as three security officers converged from different angles. The figure didn't even see them coming. They had him on the ground in seconds, hood pulled back.
Dylan.
His face was gaunt, hollow-eyed. He was carrying a crowbar. Just a crowbar. No plan. No backup. Just rage and a piece of metal.
"Bring him to the ground floor holding room," Callum said. "Call the police. Don't touch him."
We took the elevator down in silence. My heart was hammering, but my mind was clear.
When we walked in, Dylan was on his knees, hands zip-tied, security flanking him. He looked up and saw me.
The hatred in his eyes was almost physical.
"You took everything from me," he said. His voice was ragged. Hollow. "Everything."
"You took it from yourself," I replied.
"I built that company! I worked for years—"
"You embezzled. You cheated. You lied." I counted them off. "To your investors, to my family, and to me. This isn't revenge, Dylan. This is consequence."
He turned his gaze to Callum. Something ugly twisted his features.
"And you. You think you won? You think she actually loves you? She married you for the money, same as she was marrying me."
Callum didn't react. Didn't flinch. Just looked at him like he was studying something insignificant.
"The difference," Callum said, "is that I'm worth loving."
Dylan lunged. Got exactly nowhere. Security held him down as he thrashed, screaming things that barely counted as words.
The police arrived twelve minutes later.
Breaking and entering. Criminal trespassing. Possession of a weapon with intent. Combined with the pending fraud charges and the existing restraining order violation from my parents' house, Dylan was looking at serious time.
As they loaded him into the squad car, he locked eyes with me through the window.
I held his gaze until the car pulled away.
Then I turned to Callum. He was watching me, not the car.
"It's over," he said.
"Is it?"
"The fraud case will seal it. With tonight's charges added, no judge is giving him bail. His lawyers already abandoned him when the money dried up. This is done."
I exhaled. A long, slow breath I felt like I'd been holding for years.
Callum pulled me into his arms. Right there in the building lobby, security still milling around, cameras still rolling.
"You're safe," he said against my hair. "I've got you."
I let myself lean into him. Let myself feel it.
For the first time in four years, I wasn't bracing for the next hit.
When we got back upstairs, the adrenaline had faded and exhaustion hit like a wall. Callum guided me to the couch, wrapped a blanket around my shoulders, and put a cup of tea in my hands.
He sat beside me, close but not crowding.
"Serena."
"Hm?"
"I know we got married fast. And I know the circumstances were insane. But—" He paused. "I don't want this to be just a strategy that worked out. I want this to be real."
I looked at him. This man who'd given me his name, his assets, his protection, and his patience without asking for anything back.
"It's already real," I said.
His smile was worth everything.
Then his phone buzzed. He glanced at it.
"What now?" I groaned.
He showed me the screen. An email from the District Attorney's office.
**WARRANT ISSUED FOR DYLAN LAWSON. FORMAL CHARGES: WIRE FRAUD, EMBEZZLEMENT, CRIMINAL HARASSMENT. TRIAL DATE SET.**
"Now," Callum said, "it's really over."