Chapter Eighteen: The Cleaner And The Shadow

CADE ESTATE

The headlines broke before dawn.

Big shot Attorney Exposed in International Trust Laundering Scandal.

Vale & Partners Investigation for Fraud, Offshore Schemes.

Federal Inquiry Targets Manhattan Power Lawyer.

The networks feasted on it, anchors sharpening their teeth on Roderick Vale’s downfall. Reporters camped outside his office, his home, even the Whitmore Hotel where he had foolishly hidden. Paparazzi caught him ducking into a black SUV, face pale, lips tight, no tie, no polish—the image of a man cornered.

What the cameras didn’t show was the other story—the quiet one, the one Ethan Cade had written himself. His name never once appeared in the headlines. Not even in the footnotes.

Because Ethan hadn’t been careless enough to let it.

He had made Vale the sole villain in the scandal, the lightning rod, the sacrificial lamb. And the storm obliged.

By mid-morning, Vale was ruined. By evening, his firm was in shambles. And Ethan Cade, immaculate as ever, stood untouched, his empire not even nicked.

It was a masterstroke.

"You managed to extract yourself entirely." Sienna said impressed.

"For a 'big shot' lawyer, Voss is an idiot. I simply outed him before he dragged me into whatever shit he had going on."

" How are you sure he won't snitch on you? He can trace everything back to you."

" He's too stupid to do that and if he does... I've taken care of it. Not that the world would believe him anyways."

Sienna looked at her cunning husband with a mix of awe and fear. Ethan Cade wasn't one to be messed with. If he found out what she was hiding from him, she wondered what he'd do to her.

"You're Vicious."

"I know darling, I didn't keep my spot at the top by being mediocre."

" I can see that." She went over the table to kiss him.

---

VOSS ESTATE

Rain slicked the glass walls of the study in thin rivulets, the storm that had threatened finally breaking over Los Angeles. The Pacific roared just beyond the cliffs, thunder hidden somewhere in the dark belly of the sky.

Amara sat in her armchair, black silk robe gathered loosely at the waist, a glass of red wine balanced in her hand. Across from her, Kaylee leaned over a laptop, screens glowing with newsfeeds, encrypted chatter, and the occasional burst of celebratory media hysteria over Vale’s spectacular implosion.

Kaylee smirked without humor. “They’ve practically crucified him. Every channel, every blog, even the gossip rags. He’s radioactive.”

“Of course he is.” Amara’s voice was calm, but her gaze was sharp on the screen. “Ethan wouldn’t settle for anything less.”

Kaylee shot her a look. “You almost sound impressed.”

Amara swirled her wine. “Impressed? No. But I respect a man who knows how to make fire dance without burning his own hands.”

The storm outside deepened, wind rattling the French doors. Amara rose, pacing toward the glass, the sea’s black skin flashing with foam.

“Vale thought threats could buy him safety,” she said, tone low. “But threats only work if the person you’re cornering still believes you have teeth.”

Kaylee closed the laptop with a snap. “Ethan pulled them right out of his mouth.”

Amara turned back, a ghost of a smile on her lips. “Exactly. He let Vale bury himself and then gave the world the shovel.”

She moved to the desk, fingertips brushing over the leather-bound journal she’d left there earlier, Milo’s name still imprinted in her thoughts. Her voice sharpened.

“Don’t underestimate him, Kaylee. Ethan Cade isn’t just ruthless—he’s patient. He plays with angles no one else even sees. That’s what makes him dangerous.”

Kaylee studied her, brow furrowed. “Then how do we use it?”

Amara sat again, crossing one long leg over the other, robe falling open just enough to gleam pale skin in the lamplight. Her smile turned feral.

“We turn his strength into a weakness. He believes he cleaned house today. That he eliminated a threat and erased every trace of his involvement. Fine. Let him believe it. Because the more invincible a man thinks he is, the easier it is to make him bleed.”

Kaylee leaned forward, eyes alight. “So you want to ride his cover-up?”

“I want to ride the shadow of it,” Amara corrected. “Every story Vale told to save himself is now dust. But somewhere in the ashes are pieces Ethan can’t fully bury. A word, a signature, a timestamp. We’ll find it.”

"So... Will you tell me what happened during the dinner?"

" Nothing happened."

" Amara."

" Kaylee."

She let out an exasperated sigh.

" Be careful Amara."

" I am being careful Kaylee. He pushed me and my son off a cliff. I know what he's capable of."

The fire cracked in the hearth, thunder rolling closer. For a moment neither spoke, the storm filling the silence.

Then Amara’s voice cut through. “The number.”

Kaylee blinked. “What number?”

“The one that wouldn’t stop buzzing Sienna’s phone that day.” Amara’s gaze hardened. “The Nevada line. I told you to trace it.”

Kaylee shifted, uneasy. “I did.”

“And?”

Kaylee hesitated, fingers fidgeting with the laptop clasp.

“Kaylee.” Amara’s tone left no room for delay.

Finally Kaylee met her eyes. “It wasn’t easy. Whoever owned it used three shells, bounced it through unregistered relays, scrubbed every trail. Took me days to crack.”

Amara leaned forward, wine forgotten. “But you did crack it.”

Kaylee exhaled, tension bleeding into the storm outside. “Yes. And you’re not going to like what I found or maybe you will...”

Amara’s pulse slowed, a predator’s patience in her veins. “Tell me.”

Kaylee swallowed, her voice barely above the rain.

“The number… it’s tied to someone you know.”

Amara’s grip on the armrest tightened, the room’s shadows pressing closer.

“Who?” she demanded.

Kaylee’s lips parted, the word on the edge of release—

And the thunder outside swallowed it whole.