Chapter One Hundred Eleven: The Call

The call came on a Tuesday morning.

I was in my office when my phone buzzed. I didn't recognize the number. I almost didn't answer. But something made me pick up.

"Elena Voss."

"Miss Voss. My name is Andrew Pratt. I'm an attorney with the Department of Justice."

I sat up straighter. I set down my pen.

"What can I do for you?"

"It's about Julian Ashford. He's filed an appeal."

I didn't react. I just listened.

"His legal team is arguing that the evidence presented at trial was obtained illegally. They're claiming that the recordings, the documents, the witness statements—all of it—should be thrown out."

"On what grounds?"

"They're claiming that you and your husband used unauthorized surveillance methods. They're claiming that the evidence was gathered without proper warrants. They're claiming that the entire investigation was a violation of his rights."

I was quiet for a moment. Then I said, "That's ridiculous."

"I know. But it's also a legal argument. And it's going to be heard."

"When?"

"Three weeks. The appeals court has agreed to review the case."

I didn't respond.

"Miss Voss?"

"I heard you."

"What do you want to do?"

I considered the question. I thought about Julian. About the trial. About the evidence. About everything we'd done to put him away.

"Fight it," I said. "We fight it."

---

I told Adrian that afternoon.

He was in his office. He was on the phone. He hung up when he saw me.

"You look upset," he said.

"Julian filed an appeal."

He didn't react. He just looked at me.

"On what grounds?"

"That the evidence was obtained illegally. That the recordings, the documents, the witness statements—all of it—should be thrown out."

He leaned back in his chair. He folded his hands.

"Who's representing him?"

"His old legal team. The ones from the trial."

He nodded. He didn't look surprised.

"We expected this," he said.

"Did we?"

"I did. Julian has nothing left. He's going to fight until the end. It's what he does."

I sat across from him. I folded my hands on his desk.

"We need to be ready."

"We are."

I looked at him. He looked at me.

"I'm not going to let him get away," I said.

"He won't."

"How do you know?"

He held my gaze. Neither of us spoke.

"Because I know you," he said.

---

The next three weeks were chaos.

Felix worked around the clock. He reviewed every document. Every recording. Every witness statement. He made sure everything was airtight.

Marcus pulled old files. Dana tracked down witnesses. Leo coordinated with the authorities. Sarah worked on the media strategy.

I worked from my office. I read every brief. I studied every argument. I prepared for the hearing.

Adrian stayed close. He didn't hover. He didn't push. He just stayed close.

On the night before the hearing, I found him on the balcony.

He was standing at the railing. The city stretched out in front of him. The sun had set. The lights were on.

I stood beside him. He didn't turn.

"Tomorrow," I said.

"Tomorrow."

"We fight."

"We fight."

I looked at him. He looked at me.

"I'm not afraid," I said.

"I know."

"Then stop looking at me like that."

"Like what?"

"Like I'm going to break."

He held my gaze. Neither of us spoke.

"I'm not looking at you like you're going to break," he said. "I'm looking at you like I can't lose you."

The city hummed below us. A siren wailed in the distance. A light flickered on a far-off building. I listened to the sounds of the night.

"You won't," I said.

He didn't respond. He just looked at me.

The city hummed below us. The lights flickered. The sky was clear. I listened to the sounds of the night.

"Okay," I said.

He didn't reach for me. I didn't reach for him. We stood at the railing, two people who had spent years chasing the same ghost, and watched the city breathe.

Tomorrow, the headlines would run. Tomorrow, the world would move on.

But tonight, the balcony was quiet, and the sky was clear, and for once, I didn't want to be anywhere else.