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Chapter 64: Liam's Investigation

Author: Evve
last update publish date: 2026-01-01 23:28:17

The "war" wasn't being fought with supply chains anymore. It was being fought in the dark.

Liam Cross sat in the back of his Maybach, the city of New York sliding past the tinted windows like a film noir. It was raining again, a relentless, gray drizzle that matched his mood.

He wasn't going to the office. He was going to a small, unmarked building in Hell’s Kitchen.

It was the office of Blackwood & Associates. Private Investigators.

Liam had used Blackwood before. For corporate espionage. For
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    The evidence board in the FBI briefing room was no longer a collage of conjecture. It was a map of hell.Aurora sat at the metal table, her hands resting on the cold surface. She felt strangely weightless, as if the gravity in the room had been turned off to accommodate the sheer mass of the truth hanging on the wall.Agent Rivera stood by the whiteboard. She held a black marker, but she wasn't writing. She was drawing lines.Thick, black lines connecting Henry Cross to Isabella Voss."We found the logs," Rivera said. Her voice was devoid of inflection. "Encrypted drives from the old Cross Industries server archives. They were supposed to be wiped in 2010 during the server migration. They weren't."She tapped a printed email taped to the board.FROM: HC_EXEC (Henry Cross)TO: IV_CONSULT (Isabella Voss)DATE: July 14, 2004 SUBJECT: The Obstacle.The acquisition is stalled. The target is recalcitrant. Fix it. Permanent solution authorized.Aurora stared at the date. July 14th. One month

  • Runaway Heiress: The Billionaire’s Forgotten Bride   CHAPTER 417: THE FATHER'S SIN

    The study was cold.Liam sat in the leather chair that had once been his father’s favorite. It was a massive thing, upholstered in oxblood leather, designed to make the person sitting in it feel like a king.Tonight, it felt like an electric chair.On the desk in front of him lay the FBI file Rivera had left behind. The photos of the charred timber. The chemical analysis of the accelerant. The acquisition papers for Vale Tech, signed by Henry Cross in September 2004.Liam stared at the signature.It was bold. Looping. Arrogant. The signature of a man who believed he could rewrite reality with a pen stroke.I killed them, Isabella’s note had said.But Isabella was just the match. Henry was the hand.Liam closed his eyes. He tried to breathe, but the air in the penthouse felt thin, recycled, tainted.He thought about 2004. He had been twenty-one. A senior at Yale. He remembered driving a new Porsche. He remembered complaining to his father about his trust fund allowance. He remembered s

  • Runaway Heiress: The Billionaire’s Forgotten Bride   CHAPTER 416: THE MOTIVE

    The FBI Evidence Response Team didn't just bring boxes. They brought silence.It had been a week since the confirmation of arson. A week of forensic technicians swarming the site of the old guest house in the Hamptons, sifting through twenty years of dirt to find the ghosts of accelerants.But today, the evidence wasn't ash. It was paper.Aurora sat in the penthouse living room. Agent Rivera sat opposite her, flanked by a forensic accountant named Miller.Liam stood by the window. He was watching the river, his back rigid. He looked like a man bracing for a tsunami."We found the 'why'," Rivera said.She didn't soften it. She didn't offer a preamble. She slid a thick file across the coffee table.SUBJECT: JONATHAN VALE.ASSET VALUATION: 2003-2004.Aurora looked at the file. She remembered her father as a man who smelled of scotch and sadness. A man who built things but couldn't hold them together."My father was a developer," Aurora said. "A mid-level developer. He wasn't a target.""

  • Runaway Heiress: The Billionaire’s Forgotten Bride   CHAPTER 415: THE REOPENING

    The penthouse had turned into a waiting room again.But this time, they weren't waiting for a baby or a verdict or a stock price. They were waiting for a ghost to speak.Aurora sat in the study. The screens on the wall were dark, except for one. It showed a secure feed from a lab in Quantico. Not a live video—that wasn't allowed—but a status dashboard Agent Rivera had granted them access to.CASE ID: 2004-VALE-HAMPTONS.STATUS: EVIDENCE PROCESSING.ITEM 4B: CHARRED TIMBER SECTION.ITEM 9A: SOIL SAMPLE (PRESERVED).It had been seventy-two hours since they handed over the ring. Seventy-two hours of silence.Aurora wasn't pacing. She wasn't crying. She was sitting in Liam’s leather chair, her hands folded on the desk, watching the cursor blink.She felt like she was standing on the edge of a construction site where the demolition charges had been set but the detonator had jammed. The explosion was coming. She just didn't know if it would clear the ground or bury her."Aurora?"Liam walke

  • Runaway Heiress: The Billionaire’s Forgotten Bride   CHAPTER 414: OPENING THE CASE

    The fluorescent lights in the FBI field office hummed with a sound that felt like a drill against Liam’s molars.He sat on a hard plastic chair that was bolted to the floor. The table in front of him was gray laminate, scarred by decades of handcuffs and nervous fingernails. It was the same table where they had played the recording of Ethan’s bravery months ago.That day, the room had felt like a victory lap. Today, it felt like a morgue.Aurora sat next to him. She wasn't vibrating with the frantic energy of the breakdown anymore. She was perfectly, terrifyingly still. She wore the black turtleneck like a cassock. Her hands were folded on the table, resting on top of a clear plastic evidence bag.Inside the bag, the scorched gold ring looked like a piece of shrapnel.Agent Rivera walked in. She carried two coffees in Styrofoam cups. She looked tired—the kind of tired that comes from chasing ghosts who have better lawyers than you do."Mr. Cross," she said, setting the coffees down. "

  • Runaway Heiress: The Billionaire’s Forgotten Bride   CHAPTER 413: THE LINE

    The kitchen was bright. Brutally, insolently bright.The morning sun reflected off the stainless steel appliances and the white marble island, creating a glare that made Liam squint. But he didn't look away from his wife.Aurora stood by the espresso machine. She was wearing the black turtleneck and trousers she had changed into—the uniform of an executioner. Her hands were steady as she reached for her car keys on the counter."I'm going to find her," she said again. Her voice was flat. It had no bottom. "And I'm going to kill her."It wasn't a threat. It was a schedule. A blueprint.Liam didn't jump up. He didn't block the door. He didn't shout.He pulled out a barstool and sat down.He folded his hands on the cold marble. He looked at the keys. He looked at her."Sit down, Aurora," he said."I'm leaving, Liam.""You're leaving," he agreed. "But not yet. Sit down."She hesitated. Her hand hovered over the keys. The scorched gold ring on her pinky finger caught the light—a dull, ugly

  • Runaway Heiress: The Billionaire’s Forgotten Bride   Chapter 87: Ethan's Innocence

    The cabin in the Adirondacks was not a "glass castle."It was a fortress of timber and stone, nestled deep in a forest that smelled of pine needles and damp earth. It was primitive, as Liam had promised. No internet. No cable. Just a landline, a fireplace, and silence.For two days, it had been a s

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  • Runaway Heiress: The Billionaire’s Forgotten Bride   Chapter 96: AVA's Victory

    The car ride home was silent.But it wasn't the heavy, suffocating silence of the past. It was a silence born of exhaustion and a strange, humming sense of peace.Aurora sat in the back of the black SUV, her head resting against the cool leather. Her eyes were closed, but she could still see the li

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    The Atlantic Ocean was not a polite body of water.It was a violent, gray, churning expanse that slammed against the Montauk shoreline with a deafening, rhythmic roar.It was the sound of erosion. The sound of things being worn down, grain by grain, until nothing was left but the bedrock.Liam Cros

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  • Runaway Heiress: The Billionaire’s Forgotten Bride   Chapter 91: The Culprit

    The rain had stopped, but the air in the small apartment in Queens was heavy with the smell of damp plaster and impending disaster.Liam Cross stood in the center of the room, the laptop open on the table, the map of his son's life taped to the wall. The word BURN was scrawled in red marker next to

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