5: His Downfall.

Caleb’s POV

How dare this bitch? How dare she interfere in my fucking life. I'm going to end her rotting ass!

Delilah had walked away— but not on my watch. I'm going to make her regret this. Everything is over. The pitiful stares I received from others were just enough to make my skin boil.

The respect I’d spent years commanding now lay splattered on the marble like the champagne she threw in my face.

I have to get out of here, to think, to regroup. Luckily, I kept a driver on speed-dial for nights like this — a man who waited and never asked questions. Having so many enemies can make you jittery — I never expected it to be my wife.

I stood frozen, the taste of bitterness and betrayal clinging to my lips. How could Delilah do this to me?

My fists clenched at my sides as I watched her descend the stairs—shoulders high, head tilted, like she hadn’t just torn the Weston legacy apart in front of foreign investors and politicians. I invited top dignitaries! Funny enough I've never done so before… but she convinced me to throw such an elaborate party this time.

This was her effing plan!! To expose me in front of the world.

“Caleb, what just—”

I ignored the voices. I certainly ignored my mother’s trembling hiss in my ear.

“You bastard…” someone muttered. “He cheated on her while she was pregnant?”

“She destroyed him—”

Oh shut up! As if you're perfect!

I rushed downstairs after her before she could leave the building

I was going to find her and make her pay.

Make her regret humiliating me in front of the world.

“Delilah!” I barked, spotting at the base of the stairs. “You think this is over?! You think you won?!”

But before I could move further, cold metal pressed against the back of my neck.

I froze.

The rage in my chest turned to ice.

“Don’t even think of following her,” a voice rasped behind me.

I knew who he was. Thorne.

The brother I’d buried in every sense but blood.

“Thorne,” I hissed. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

He pressed the gun harder against my skin.

“What I should’ve done years ago,” he said, stepping around me, eyes glinting like steel under the dim light.

He was dressed in black.

“Get out of my way,” I snarled. “She’s my wife.”

“No,” Thorne said. “Not anymore.”

I lunged forward—his hand was faster.

The barrel of the gun met my sternum.

“Try it,” he said, lips barely moving. “I’d love an excuse to end the family tree here.”

My breath heaved. “You were always jealous—always waiting for a moment to come after me—”

“No,” Thorne said coldly. “I never wanted your fucking life, Caleb. But you made the mistake of touching the one thing I ever wanted.”

His jaw tightened.

“You humiliated her. Killed her spirit. Fucked another woman while she carried your child. And now you want to cry about loyalty?” His voice dipped lower. “You don’t deserve the air in your lungs.”

I grit my teeth, furious, humiliated, shaking with loss I didn’t even understand. “She’s mine,” I spat.

“Not anymore,” Thorne said, stepping back, lowering the gun.

“And if you ever try to touch her again…”

He leaned in, voice barely above a whisper.

“I will bury you where no one will find the pieces.”

And just like that, he walked away, leaving me breathless, powerless, and still bleeding from the wounds she carved with a smile.

The gun’s heat still haunted my chest.

I stared at the dented service door behind the bar — the one I’d used once to dodge a nosy reporter. It smelled of bleach and old wine. Small things stick.

I clenched my fists, teeth grinding so hard I thought my jaw would snap. I should leave now.

Everything. Everything was slipping. How is that possible?

My marriage.

My image.

My legacy.

Just when I was about to leave, my phone rang. My father’s name flashed across the screen.

Weston Sr.

I inhaled sharply, straightened my jacket, and wiped sweat from my brow.

Of course, he’d seen the footage and I'm sure he was calling to demand answers.

I answered. “Dad—”

“Sit the fuck down, Caleb.”His voice was icy.

I sat at the base of the stairs like a hopeless man.

“Dad, listen—Delilah, she’s sick. Unstable. She—”

“You cheated on her. Lied to her. Humiliated her. Stole money using her name. And worst of all—you did it while she carried your child.”

Silence thundered in my ear. “I didn’t—”

I didn't know what to say because it's true.

“Don’t insult me,” he snapped. “I saw the damn footage. Everyone has.”

He exhaled heavily, the sound crackling like thunder. “You know, when I arranged your marriage to Delilah, it wasn’t for show. I knew her father. He saved my life once. I promised him I'd protect her.”

My stomach twisted. “You were supposed to love her. Build something strong with her. Instead, you treated her like a fucking tool. You were supposed to keep her… you were supposed to!”

“Dad, please—”

“No. You don’t get to plead now. Listen very carefully, because this is the last courtesy I’m giving you.You remember Weston International?”

My eyes narrowed. “The company’s mine. You said that—”

“Not anymore,” he interrupted coldly. “You want to keep it? Earn it. Because I’m putting Thorne in.”

My heart stopped. “What?! Thorne? Are you out of your mind?!”

“No. I’m finally thinking clearly. Thorne used to be reckless. Wild. But tonight, he showed more integrity, maturity, and control in ten minutes than you’ve shown in a decade. The board will know. The shareholders will vote. And may the better Weston win.”

No…no…no!!!!

“Dad, you can’t do this to me! I’ve run the company for years! He’s a fuck-up! A dropout! He doesn’t know business! He's not even your real son!”

“Maybe not. But he knows character. And right now, that’s what matters more.”

The line went dead.

I stared at the phone like it had personally betrayed me.

My lungs tightened.

Thorne.

That bastard.

He gets her.

He gets the company??

I slammed my fist into the nearest wall, breathing hard, trembling.

And then, as if the heavens were also against me,a voice echoed behind me.

“Caleb Weston?”

I turned.

A cluster of uniformed officers stood at the base of the staircase. Their badges gleamed. Their eyes held no sympathy.

The officer stepped forward, holding up a warrant.

“You’re under arrest for financial fraud, money laundering, embezzlement, and obstruction of justice. You have the right to remain silent…”

The words blurred and the worst part, people from the party had come downstairs to watch.

Phones were up. Flashing. Whispering. No fucking way.

Cheryse stood in the doorway, pale and horrified, holding her son.

Estelle was being held back by security, shouting “This is madness! He’s my son!”

Everything was crumbling down.. The sensible thing would have been to stand and answer, to take whatever the law chose and fight later. But old nights teach small men to keep ugly margins.

I shoved the officer in front of me and bodies slammed together, a waiter’s tray spinning, champagne splashing across my chest. Hands clawed at my sleeves and missed as the crowd opened and closed around me like lungs.

I just kept pushing, kept running toward the far side of the room where the red EXIT glowed above that dented service door I’d slipped through once before.

“Stop him!” someone screamed but I was already barreling forward.

Everything shrank to one need—just move, just get out—as my palm shoved the door open and cold air slapped my face, and then I saw it, the black car idling at the curb with the driver waiting.

Oh thank God! His eyes widened as I ran faster, my fingers already reaching for the handle because my life was on the line.

“Drive! Fucking drive!” I said breathlessly.

I'm never going to prison!

But up ahead, I saw Thorne smiling wickedly, with a gun in hand. Shit. “Where do you think you're going, little brother?"