Chapter 196
“What about the sabotage investigation? Do you have any suspects?”
“I’m not at liberty to discuss details of an ongoing investigation. What I can say is that Vane Group will make all relevant security footage and records available to competition officials and, if necessary, to law enforcement. We will not allow this matter to be swept aside or minimized. The person or persons
responsible will be held accountable.
His eyes swept the room one final time, and for just a second–so brief I might have imagined it–his gaze locked with mine. “Thank you all for your time.
That concludes this press conference.”
He stepped away from the podium before anyone could shout another question, moving toward the stage exit with Sloane hurrying to keep pace beside him. The room descended into controlled chaos as reporters rushed to file their stories, as participants clustered together in shocked groups, as the Vane Group staff began efficiently ushering people toward the exits.
I stood frozen in my corner, my mind racing to process what had just happened. Julian had publicly severed his company’s financial ties to the competition. He’d committed to a full investigation. He’d promised compensation. He’d done everything possible to remove himself as a factor in how people judged my participation.
And he’d done it all without once looking at me, without acknowledging me, without giving anyone ammunition to claim he was doing it for personal reasons rather than professional ones.
It was the most Julian thing imaginable–cold, calculated, strategically perfect. And somehow, impossibly, it felt like the most emotionally honest thing he’d
ever done.
“Miss Vance?”
I turned to find Atlas standing beside me, his expression professionally neutral as always. “Mr. Vane would like a word with you. Please follow me.”
My heart hammered against my ribs. “I don’t think-”
“Please,” Atlas said, and something in his tone suggested this wasn’t really a request. “It will only take a moment.”
I glanced around the room, but no one was paying attention to us. Everyone was too busy processing the bombshell Julian had just dropped, too caught up in the implications for their own interests to notice one more participant being led away by Vane Group staff.
Against every instinct screaming at me to refuse, to leave, to protect myself from whatever came next, I nodded.
Atlas led me through a side door, down a corridor lined with abstract art that probably cost more than most people earned in a lifetime, and finally to a door marked “Private–Authorized Personnel Only.” He knocked once, opened it, and gestured for me to enter.
The room beyond was clearly a VIP lounge of some kind–leather furniture, a full bar, floor–to–ceiling windows overlooking the city. And standing by those windows, his back to the door, was Julian.
He’d removed his suit jacket and loosened his tie, and somehow that small concession to comfort made him look more vulnerable than I’d seen him in months. His shoulders carried a tension that hadn’t been visible on stage, and when he turned at the sound of the door closing, I saw exhaustion in the lines around his eyes that the cameras probably hadn’t caught.
We stared at each other across the expanse of expensive carpet. The silence stretched between us, heavy with everything we’d said and hachi’t said, everything we’d done and couldn’t undo.
172
7:13 pm
Chapter 196
P
Finally, he spoke. “Congratulations. Second place. You earned it.”
I couldn’t accept it–couldn’t let his words settle into something warm and dangerous in my chest. Instead, I looked away from those exhausted eyes and asked the question that had been burning through me since he’d stepped up to that podium.
“Was this for Sloane?”
He went very still. “What?”
The press conference. Withdrawing the sponsorship. All of it.” I forced myself to meet his gaze, to keep my voice steady even as my hands trembled at my sides. “Was it to protect her? To make sure no one could accuse her of winning because of your money?”
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Sara Lili is a daring romance writer who turns icy landscapes into scenes of fiery passion. She loves crafting hot love stories while embracing the chill of Iceland’s breathtaking cold.

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