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CHAPTER 76: THE INTERNAL DEBATE
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2026-06-18 19:08:58
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Apex of Love CHAPTER 76: THE INTERNAL DEBATE
Sleep refuses to arrive.Julian sprawls beside me, his breathing deep and even, his hand heavy on my hip. The fairy lights still tremble on the terrace beyond the glass, tiny white bulbs shivering in the January wind. The old train station squats in the distance, its clock still dead at 4:17.Tomorrow, we meet Gabriel DeVries. Tomorrow, Julian learns what his uncle has been clutching for thirty-six years.I slip from the sheets, careful not to stir him. The marble floor bites my bare feet. I wrap myself in his robe, the black silk one steeped in his scent, and drift to the living room window. The Penobscot Building pumps its steady red beat. The Spirit of Detroit statue hurls its bronze arms toward the frozen sky. A salt truck grinds down Woodward, its orange lights sweeping the glass in slow, deliberate arcs."What are you doing awake?"I spin. Julian fills the bedroom doorway, barefoot and rumpled, his hair a disaster. He looks younger like this. Less the apex predator and more the
Apex of Love CHAPTER 75: THE BIRTHDAY
My birthday lands on a Tuesday, and I forget it completely.I'm buried at my desk at Blackmore, drowning in the Ann Arbor case, when Yvonne plants a cupcake on my keyboard. It's chocolate, slightly crushed, a single candle jammed through the frosting."Happy birthday," she says. "Don't work past six. That's an order.""How did you know?""Your employment file. Also, Julian phoned this morning. He wanted to know if I'd release you early." She grins. "I said yes. Go home. Consume cake. Execute whatever billionaires and their forensic accountants execute on birthdays."I'm still gaping at the cupcake when my phone rattles. Julian.Dinner tonight. My place. Seven o'clock. Wear something that makes you feel like a star.I grin and type back. That's very specific.I'm a very specific man. See you tonight.The day drags on. At five, I clear my desk. At six, I'm planted in my apartment, glaring at my closet. The emerald dress hangs in the back, still carrying the faint ghost of the first gala
Apex of Love CHAPTER 74: THE MUTUAL FRIEND
The diner on Fort Street hums with the early afternoon lull. Betty sloshes coffee into my mug and lifts an eyebrow at the empty seat across from me.He's running late," I say. "Board meeting.""Those board meetings. They ever end?""Not if he can help it."She snorts and moves on. The coffee scalds my tongue. Outside, a salt truck grinds down Fort Street, its orange lights sweeping the window in slow, deliberate arcs. The old Sanders bakery sign glows faintly in the distance.Dani drops into the booth across from me, her scarf dripping melted snow, her cheeks slapped red by the wind. "Sorry I'm late. Parking in this city is a nightmare.""You could have taken the QLine.""I could have done a lot of things." She grabs my mug and takes a long gulp. "You look wrecked.""I feel wrecked. The press conference. The DeVries case. Yvonne has me buried in the Sterling audits.""That's not what I mean." Dani thunks the mug down and drills her eyes into me. "You've got that look. The one you had
Apex of Love CHAPTER 73: THE PRESS CONFERENCE
The Detroit Public Library on Woodward Avenue swallows the press conference whole. Julian chose the old main branch with its Italian Renaissance columns and vaulted ceilings painted by Edwin Blashfield, murals showing Detroit rising from fire and industry. A place built to hold stories, he told me last night. A place where truth belongs.The room heaves with reporters. They crush shoulder to shoulder, cameras bristling at the back, the air electric with held breath. I'm stationed near the front, Marcus and Elara flanking me. Victor Croft occupies a chair in the back, his silver hair catching the light, his hands folded like a man preparing for a blow.Julian strides to the podium. He wears a simple black suit, no tie, his collar open. He looks younger like this. Softer. But his eyes, when they rake the room, are January-gray and unblinking."My name is Julian Croft," he begins. "Most of you know me as a businessman. Some of you know me as the man who published his foster care records
Apex of Love CHAPTER 72: THE FINAL BOARD VOTE
The Croft Industries boardroom stinks of ozone and burnt coffee. We occupy one side of the polished table, a wall of legal documents and forensic reports stacked between us and the twelve members who tried to destroy Julian's empire.I'm stationed in the corner, a silent witness, as Julian pushes to his feet. He's wrapped in charcoal, his tie yanked tight, his January-gray eyes raking the room like a predator measuring prey. But his voice, when he speaks, is level. Controlled. The voice of a man who has already won."Ladies and gentlemen," he says, "I'll keep this short. You've seen the evidence. You've read the reports. Gerald Marks confessed to conspiracy, witness tampering, and attempted kidnapping. The investigation you fired at me was constructed on fabricated evidence, spoon-fed to you by a man who's been planning to bury me for months."Harold Sterling, the lead board member, squirms in his chair. "Mr. Croft, we've acknowledged the errors in our process. We're prepared to ter
Apex of Love CHAPTER 71: THE UNRAVELING OF ELARA
Victor Croft's house in Indian Village is a brick colonial with ivy strangling the walls and a brass lion's head snarling from the door. Gas lamps flicker along the cobblestone street, the last of their kind in Detroit. The kind of house that has watched the city burn and rebuild and burn again.Julian's fingers are rigid in mine as we climb the front steps."You don't have to walk through that door," I say."Yes, I do." He crushes my hand. "I've spent thirty-six years wondering who my mother was. Today, I found out."Victor yanks the door open before we knock. He's dressed in a dark sweater, his silver hair combed back, his January-gray eyes bruised with exhaustion. He looks nothing like the predator who choreographed the board investigation. He looks like a man who has been holding his breath for three decades."Come in," he says. "Coffee's ready."The house wraps around us, warm and hushed, stuffed with books and old photographs in tarnished frames. Victor guides us to a study wher
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