Free Web NovelChapter 231: I JUST MIGHT DESTROY YOU
Finnegan
Abigail’s blue eyes shone up at me, excitement rushing through them. This was it. If we could get Owen Smith, then we could make my brother pay for his crimes.
A bitter taste filled my mouth. I hadn’t seen Devin in fifteen years, and here I was trying to put him in prison. I had believed he was dead, and now I was going to haul him to jail.
My Dad would have been devastated to see all this. But then his death had set so much of it in motion. If he had willed the company to Devin instead of me, maybe my mother and my blockhead of a brother wouldn’t have gone this far at all.
Or maybe they would have gotten even worse.
"Send the coordinates to Arnold. He’ll have the men on it," I told Matt over the phone, squeezing Abigail’s hand.
"Yes, Boss," Matt replied curtly, and I ended the call. freeweɓnøvel.com
"We’ve found Owen," Abigail breathed, her eyes widening. "That’s great, right? We can now officially reopen my parents’ case!"
"We can," I smiled, brushing strands of hair away from her damp forehead. "Seems like we might win this after all."
The next day at work, sometime after lunch,
The Head of PR, Spencer, sat across from my desk looking like he was one bad headline away from a heart attack.
"Sir, with all due respect," he said, gesturing at his tablet screen. "Mrs. Wolfe has been on every major talk show and gossip segment for the past week, talking about ’fighting for her marriage and putting your daughter first."
"The silence from our side is starting to damage the company’s image. Investors are asking questions. The board is uneasy. If you could agree to one interview to steer the public narrative—"
"I don’t have to say anything," I cut him off coldly. "My private life is not some Keeping Up with the Kardashians episode neither will I subject my Angel’s life to public scrutiny."
Spencer swallowed. "But sir, perception matters. Right now, the narrative is that you’re a cold, distant husband who abandoned his family. We need to counter that."
I leaned back in my chair. I had far more pressing matters to deal with than Victoria throwing tantrums across the country.
Abigail was a few floors below, representing me in a meeting with the design team. A small smile settled on my lips at the thought of her.
I’d bet she was running the meeting like the professional she was. Abigail rarely let personal things bleed into her work, and I admired that about her.
"Focus on actual company matters," I said, eyes narrowing at Spencer. "Not my marriage. That’s final."
He opened his mouth to push again when my phone rang. Victoria’s name lit up the screen. I dismissed Spencer with a sharp wave, and he practically fled the office.
"What do you want, Victoria?"
Her voice came through hot with anger.
"Really, Finnegan? You told your security not to let me into the building? I’m still your wife!"
"My workplace isn’t a stage for your games," I said flatly. "If you want to address anything, speak to my lawyers. Stop wasting my time."
She laughed bitterly. "Don’t push me to the wall, Finnegan. You have no idea what I’m capable of when I’m backed into a corner."
I smiled coldly. "Try me, Victoria. Keep playing this game, and I’ll make sure the world sees exactly who you really are — the cheating, manipulative woman who destroyed her own marriage. Push me, and I just might destroy you."
She made a small sound on the other end, but I ended the call before she could respond, dropping the phone onto the desk with a sharp crack of irritation.
The office door swung open, and Abigail walked in, pulling it shut behind her. My eyes swept over her navy dress, and I tapped my thigh, beckoning her. "Come here."
She giggled, her cheeks warming as she crossed the room and straddled my lap, her knees settling on either side of my hips.
The moment her weight settled against me, the tension knotted in my shoulders began to loosen. I buried my face in the crook of her neck, breathing her in, arms cinching tightly around her waist.
Abigail’s fingers slid into my hair, stroking gently. "Something bad happened?" she murmured.
"The usual," I groaned against her skin. "How was the meeting?"
She kept working her fingers through my hair in slow strokes, sending a quiet shiver down my spine.
"It was alright. I spent the first thirty minutes watching the design team tear into each other over what the next vehicle should look like. Let’s just say if you see an armadillo-looking design in your email, that’s because your team couldn’t decide between making the car look like a rat or a tortoise."
I burst out laughing, my shoulders shaking against her skin. "Abigail, come on."
"I’m serious," she grumbled.
I pulled back just enough to look at her, hands sliding down to grip her hips. "An armadillo-looking car doesn’t sound so bad."
She twisted her lips in mock disgust. "Why would anyone want to drive an armadillo?"
"Trust me, if I build one, the whole world will be driving it," I grinned.
"Cocky much?" she teased, and in response I leaned in to brush her lips with mine before murmuring against them.
"I don’t know, you tell me."
"Oh my gosh, you’re terrible," she swatted at my chest, then drew her bottom lip between her teeth. "Any news from the men who went to get Owen?"
"Not yet," I murmured. "I told them to be extremely careful. If it’s a trap, they pull back immediately."
Abigail’s expression softened into a pout. "Good. I don’t want anyone else getting hurt because of me."
My phone rang again — this time, the head of the security team stationed at the house with Angel and River.
I answered immediately, praying this wasn’t the call I dreaded, that nothing had happened to my daughter.
"Boss... we have a situation here."
