All Chapters of OWNED IN THE DARK: Chapter 191 - Chapter 200

CIARAThe windshield wipers fought a losing battle against the rain.Every sweep cleared the glass for only a second before another wall of water crashed down, blurring the highway into a smear of headlights, asphalt, and darkness. I had pulled onto the shoulder five miles from the North Shore gates, but I couldn't bring myself to keep driving.The engine idled quietly beneath me.The only other sound was my own breathing.James Harvour is alive.Luke's words refused to leave my head.This bastard got Catya killed and tried to murder his own son. I had buried him in my heart, signed the papers that declared his life over, and somehow found the strength to never remember his barbaric self but no…he just had to come back.Now everything I thought I knew had been ripped apart in the space of a single phone call.I tightened my grip on the steering wheel until my fingers ached.How many people had known?How long had they been keeping this from me?Questions circled endlessly through my

CIARA The white gates of St. Jude Academy came into view just as the last of the rain faded into a thin gray mist.I slowed the Mercedes to a stop and sat there for a moment, my hands resting on the steering wheel. The campus looked exactly the way it always had..perfect hedges, spotless walkways, old brick buildings standing proudly against the overcast sky. It was peaceful. After the last twenty-four hours, the silence felt almost unreal.I stepped out of the car and pulled my jacket tighter around my shoulders. It kept me warm.The oversized coat settled over me like a shield. For the first time since leaving the estate, I let myself breathe.Not because the danger was gone.Because I was about to see my son.The receptionist recognized me immediately and rose from her desk."Good morning, Miss Sterling"I managed a small smile."Good morning.""The headmaster is expecting you."Of course he was.Nothing happened around this family without someone making a phone call first.The h

CIARA The phone vibrated against the polished marble of my new kitchen island, a sharp, insistent buzz that cut through the quiet hum of the city outside my studio windows. I ignored it, my fingers tracing the rim of the coffee mug. The coffee was black, bitter, and exactly what I needed. Adam was safe. Mathew had him. That was one weight lifted, even if a thousand others remained.The phone buzzed again. I sighed, swiping the screen without looking at the caller ID. "What?""Good morning to you too, Your Majesty," Luke's voice, smooth and laced with its usual sarcasm, came through the speaker. "Or should I say, Madame Chairwoman? Heard you tore the old guard a new one. Henderson is still probably nursing his pride.""I did what was necessary," I said, staring out at the grey London sky. "The company was stagnating.""Stagnating is a polite word for being led by dinosaurs to their financial extinction," he countered. "Which is why I'm calling. I've been doing some digital archaeology

CIARA The warehouse on the Isle of Dogs was the last place I expected to find Catalina.Then again, I probably looked just as out of place.She stood a few feet away in a cream trench coat that screamed designer money. It was far too elegant for a damp, abandoned warehouse that smelled of rust, dust, and old engine oil. The hem was already streaked with grease from the security door she'd forced open, and her perfectly manicured hand was wrapped around my shoulder in a grip far stronger than I would have given her credit for."Ciara," she hissed, her voice echoing through the empty building. "You arrogant idiot. Did you really think you were the only person capable of tracing a digital signature? Just because Mathew secured North Shore doesn't mean you suddenly own the family legacy."I didn't even blink.My flashlight remained steady in my hand as a slow smile tugged at my lips.It wasn't a happy smile. It was the kind that made people nervous.Poor Catalina had no idea that while s

CIARA The basement flat in Wapping felt nothing like the polished offices where my family liked to pretend they did business. There was no marble, no crystal, no expensive artwork hanging on pristine walls. Just old brick darkened by age, exposed copper pipes that groaned whenever the heat kicked in, and a single industrial light swinging lazily from the ceiling.It smelled of damp concrete, machine oil, and burnt espresso.I'd left the coffee machine running the moment I dragged Catalina inside.She sat in the middle of the room on an old metal folding chair, looking like she'd been dropped into someone else's nightmare. Her cream trench coat, probably worth more than most people's monthly salary, was streaked with black grease and mud from the back of my Ducati. Her perfectly manicured hands were secured behind the chair with thick industrial zip ties…the same ones Louis used to fasten shipping crates.Her right thumb had swollen into an ugly shade of purple.Mine wasn't much bette