Chapter 15 - The Cold War Escalates
Clara stared at the threatening note, the ink swimming slightly before her eyes. For a split second, the cold, suffocating terror of her past life—the crushing debt, the empty refrigerator, the landlord pounding on her door—threatened to drag her back under. But then a large, warm hand covered hers, pressing her fingers firmly against the cool mahogany table.
She looked up. Nico wasn't panicked. He wasn't angry in a chaotic way. He was terrifyingly, perfectly still. The air around him seemed to freeze, charged with the devastating, quiet fury of a predator whose territory had been challenged.
"Julian," Nico said the name like a death sentence. He reached across the table, took the note from her fingers, and calmly folded it, slipping it into his inner breast pocket.
"You know who sent this?" Clara whispered, her voice steadying as the warmth of Nico’s touch anchored her.
"A pathetic, desperate man who thinks he can hurt me by targeting the person I love most," Nico replied, his gaze locking onto hers with absolute, unshakeable devotion. "Clara, listen to me. This note is a mistake. It’s the final mistake Julian Vance will ever make."
"Nico, I don't want you to ruin yourself or start a war over a coward hiding behind a courier," Clara protested, her protective instincts kicking in for him.
May you like
Nico let out a low, humorless chuckle. "Ruin myself? Sweetheart, I built this empire out of the ashes of a family dynasty that was far more ruthless than Julian could ever dream of being. He thinks he’s playing chess. He doesn't realize I own the board, the pieces, and the table it rests on."
He reached across, cupping her cheek with his thumb, his expression softening instantly as he looked at her. "You finished your celebration dinner, Mrs. Vale. We are going home. And by tomorrow morning, Julian Vance will wish he had never learned how to spell your name."
