All Chapters of Ashes Of Sterling - A Tale Of Revenge: Chapter 31 - Chapter 40

“Katherine Carter.” The name hit the room like a slap. Not loud. Not fast. But sharp enough to make every molecule in the air turn still. There couldn't be a Katherine Carter looking for Derek. I am Katherine Carter. Whoever this person was, it wasn't me. I felt Derek’s hand tense in mine. Not a twitch. A clench, like someone had just grabbed him by the throat and whispered his sins out loud. I turned my head slowly to look at him. His jaw was locked, eyes fixed ahead. “What did she say her name was?” I asked, even though I’d heard it loud and clear. The assistant shifted uncomfortably. “Katherine. Carter. She insisted.” Derek’s voice was barely above a whisper. “That’s not...” No. Not possible… because the real Katherine Carter stood right next to him. And I felt cold. Colder than I had in years. “Derek?” I said, stepping in front of him now, placing myself squarely between him and the door, between him and the ghost. “Is everything alright? Do you want me to go with you?”

Levy’s fingers danced over the keyboard like they were born to make trouble. He hummed, HUMMED, while breaking into Benjamin’s encrypted files, which felt a little like someone whistling while defusing a bomb. I paced behind him, arms crossed so tightly my shoulders ached. “Please tell me you’re not just reading his grocery list,” I muttered. “Depends. If by ‘grocery list’ you mean off shore financial trails, then yes. Lots of avocados and federal crimes,” Levy replied, eyes glued to the screen. “This guy’s folder naming system is so lazy I feel personally offended. There’s a folder actually called ‘lifeline’. Who does that?” I leaned over. “Anything useful?” “Define useful. Do you want morally compromising, criminally actionable, or ‘huh, I always suspected he was the kind of guy who leaves one second on the microwave timer and walks away’?” “Levy.” “Fine, fine. Let’s talk treasure. Because your boy Benjamin, he’s been hiding something big.” He tapped a key, and the screen fill

Aurora gave me some clarity on what I wanted to do with Camilla. I wasn't gonna send the pictures to the press or Camilla, no. When the time comes, I will hand Aurora the gun and let her finish her mother. Perhaps to someone, this would feel a bit too dark, setting a daughter against her own mother, but the way I see it, I would simply give Aurora the satisfaction of giving Camilla exactly what she deserves.The boutique is more temple than store. Marble floors, gold framed mirrors, and glass racks spaced far enough apart to make each dress feel sacred. No music plays, only the gentle hush of stylists whispering in French and the click of Louboutin heels moving across polished stone.Aurora doesn't browse, she glides. Eyes scanning, fingers occasionally grazing fabric like she’s sifting through weapons in an armory. “We’re not going for pretty,” she says without looking at me. “We’re going for unforgettable.”A stylist appears from behind a velvet curtain, clipboard in hand, all cheekb

If I wanted to talk to Thomas Rivera, first I need more evidence to support Jack's case. I dont only want him to investigate Castillo Holding, I can use him to clear an innocent man's life. I need to carefully select what I can give him from what I found in Benjamin's files, and see what I can take from Clara, not forgetting about what I already had on Duke. I need to make the perfect case to give to Rivera. If I want Thomas Rivera on this, I have to give him a reason. Not a conspiracy, not a hunch, a case. Something solid enough that he can’t ignore it, but careful enough that it doesn’t trace back to me. He’ll ask why now. Why me. Why I care.I have to make him believe the only motive I have is justice. And that’s not entirely a lie.But first, I need to survive this party. Aurora was right, this dress was made for me. Every line hugged in the right places, every seam stitched with the intent to be seen. But standing in front of the mirror now, I couldn’t help but wonder if I wanted

His hand hangs in the air, suspended like a question I wasn’t ready to answer. I swallow, steadying the air in my lungs, collecting scattered thoughts with the precision of someone who can’t afford to be careless. Slowly, deliberately, I raise my hand to meet his, but he doesn’t shake it. No. Instead, his cold fingers close over mine, and with unnerving grace, he lifts my hand to his lips. The contact is brief, but deliberate. A performance. A claim. My skin chills where his mouth brushed it.I smile, perfectly measured, and dip my head in return. Victor releases my hand and turns his sharp gaze to Derek. “I must say, Derek,” he says, voice smooth as silk and sharp as glass, “you’ve made an excellent choice.” Derek’s hand finds the small of my back again, protective, proud, unaware.“The choice was hers,” he replies simply, his smile full of warmth.Victor nods once, lips twitching at the corners, but something flickers behind his eyes, approval, perhaps. Or calculation. Maybe both."I