The Devil In The Headlines.
Ronan’s Point Of View.
“Dammit!”
The words tore from my throat in a hoarse, breathless growl as I stared down at my phone. My fingers tightened so hard around the device, the glass creaked. The headline burned into my vision like a bad dream that refused to fade:
Zyrah Lancaster Released Overnight. Charges Dropped. Case Sealed.
I read it once, then again, and a third time, slower. My stomach twisted as a cold sweat crawled down my spine like ice under skin. My mind, usually sharp, calculated, and ten steps ahead, felt like static.
She was out?
How?
What the hell happened?
I was shaking with rage as blood rushed violently through my veins making me.look like I was running insane.
No!
Hell no!
This wasn’t possible!
She was supposed to rot in that freaking jail, I made sure of it, tied every knot, and greased every palm, as I handed over every false document with clean precision, thinking that she was gone and out of my life for good.
She was supposed to be gone.
I started pacing, the sharp clicks of my shoes hitting the marble floor like the ticking of a bomb. My office, sleek, spotless, brutal in design, felt like it was closing in on me. The towering skyline outside my window blurred behind the heat rising in my chest.
She was in jail for less than twenty-four hours.
One night, that’s all she did.
And now she was free? Released like nothing happened?
No fucking way.
I grabbed my phone again, heart pounding, rage crawling under my skin like fire ants. My thumb stabbed at the screen as I dialed Detective Halvorson, the man I paid a small fortune to make this problem vanish.
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At once, he answered with a grunt, unaware of the storm waiting on the other end.
“Halvorson,” I snapped, not even giving him time to breathe. “What the hell happened?”
“Mr. Lancaster,” he said quickly, already nervous. “I was just about to reach out…”
“Don’t lie to me,” I barked. “I’m staring at a news headline right now. Zyrah is out, released without a trial, and a court date. Nothing! She only spent a night in a cell and now she’s strutting through the streets like nothing hap- pened.”
There was silence at the other end.
My teeth clenched.
“I asked you a question.” I roared in rage.
“She… she was bailed out,” Halvorson said, stumbling. “I don’t know who did it, the system logged it as an anony- mous override, there was no ID, neither was there a trail, it was just gone, the case file wiped, charges pulled, security footage sealed.”
My head pounded. “You told me she was done. You told me she’d be buried so deep no one would even remember her name.”
“I thought she was. Ronan, I swear, this, this came from way above me. Like… federal clearance, or would I say judi- cial override.”
“Bullshit.” I stopped pacing and slammed my hand down on the desk. A glass of water tipped and shattered, I didn’t even flinch. “You’re telling me someone just ghosted her out of jail? Overnight? Like she’s some kind of goddamn VIP?”
“I, I don’t know what to tell you,” Halvorson stammered. “This wasn’t part of the agreement, someone with a hell of a lot of pull came in and wiped it clean.”
My mind raced.
Who the hell would do that for her?
Who even knew where she was?
No one was supposed to know.
She never spoke about her past, never brought up her family because she mentioned that her parents are dead.
She had no last name, no pedigree, no power so how the hell did this happen.
“Let me make one thing very clear,” I said, voice low and lethal. “I paid you more than enough to make sure she van- ished. I didn’t just pay for her silence, I paid for her erasure.”
“I… I understand, but…”
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The Devil In The Headlines.
288 Vouchers
“Do you? Because right now, I’m the one looking like a fool in the middle of a goddamn headline.” I yelled at the phone.
“I’ll fix it.”
“I don’t want apologies,” I hissed. “I want answers, I want surveillance, and I want to know who walked into your sta- tion with enough authority to make a criminal case evaporate overnight. I need to know where the hell she is now.”
“Yes, sir. I’ll get my team on it immediately, we’ll track her down…”
“You have twenty-four hours,” I snapped. “If I don’t get a name and a location, you’ll wish you’d stayed on traffic du- ty.”
The line clicked dead before he could stammer a reply.
I stood there, staring out over the city, hands braced on the desk, breath sharp and uneven.
Zyrah,
I thought I’d destroyed her.
I clenched my jaw.
My footsteps echoed against the marble floor, over and over again like a drumbeat I couldn’t escape. I was pacing, again, my bedroom was dim, curtains half-drawn, city lights barely cutting through the early morning haze. My mind was racing, lungs tight, throat dry,
How the hell did she get out?
It made no sense.
No sense at all.
I turned sharply on my heel, rage knotting in my chest so thick I could barely breathe.
And then I heard the door.
The sound of soft feet padding across stone, the click of the bathroom light as a familiar perfume drifted in just before her voice followed.
“Ronan?” Seline’s voice was groggy but soft, too soft for the chaos inside me. “What are you doing? It’s not even 6
a.m.”
I didn’t answer.
She stepped into view wearing one of my robes, her long legs bare, wet hair cascading down her shoulders. She blinked at me, confused. Clearly, she thought we’d be spending the morning tangled in sheets, not unraveling the world.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, stepping closer.
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The Devil In The Headlines.
288 Vouchers
Me and seline had spent the night together to celebrate my divorce and Zyrah rotting in jail.
I didn’t speak at first.
“FUCK!” I roared.
The word exploded from my chest and echoed like thunder through the penthouse.
Then I launched my phone across the room. It smashed against the wall with a sickening crack, screen shattered, case splintered, pieces skidded across the floor like shrapnel.
Seline jumped back, her eyes wide.
“What the hell, Ronan?!” she gasped. “What is going on?”
“Check your goddamn phone,” I snapped, voice shaking with fury. “Go online right now.”
Seline frowned. “My phone? What the hell are you talking about?”
Fire flared inside me, “Do not ask me any stupid question, Seline. Check your goddamn phone!”
Still confused, she hesitated for a moment before backing toward her handbag. She fumbled inside, pulled out her phone, unlocked it, then froze. Her mouth opened slightly, lips parted in disbelief, she stared at her phone, then scrolled.
“No!” she screamed.
“This isn’t possible,” she muttered, nearly breathless. “How the hell is she out?!”
Her hands trembled as she looked up at me, panic flooding her perfect face. “Who released her?! She was supposed to be done! She was, she was finished!”
I bit down hard on my lower lip, jaw clenched so tight I could feel my teeth grind.
“Detective Halvorson,” I growled. “I just got off the phone with that bastard.”
Seline’s brow furrowed. “What did he say?”
“He said nothing, that he doesn’t know who pulled the strings. That someone, an anonymous, wiped the record, bailed her out, killed the charges like it was a traffic ticket, like this whole thing never even happened.”
Seline shook her head, stepping toward me slowly. “You think he’s lying?”
“No,” I muttered. “I think he’s a coward, a puppet, he was too rattled to fake it. Whatever this was, whoever this was, it’s bigger than him, and it sure as hell is bigger than we planned for.”
Seline’s lips pressed into a hard line. “It’s not the detective’s fault.”
I turned on her fast. “What?”
She held her ground, eyes sharp now. “It’s not about him, it’s about who helped her. That’s the real threat, Ronan.
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Whoever that person is… they’ve got serious power, money, and influence. This isn’t some street lawyer with a grudge, this is organized.”
I rubbed my hands over my face, trying to breathe past the weight in my chest.
Seline stepped closer. “If we don’t figure out who’s backing her, this could ruin everything. You know that, right?”
“Ruin it?” I snapped. “They’re trying to burn it to the ground.”
“Then we better get ahead of it,” she said. “Now.”
I didn’t answer.
I just crossed the room and began throwing on my clothes, slacks, shirt, belt, jacket, my fingers moved fast, angry, like suiting up for war.
Seline narrowed her eyes. “Where are you going?”
I didn’t stop moving. “The office, I need access to my network, my analysts, and my legal team. If she’s back in the city, I want eyes on her, cameras, bank records, I want a goddamn drone if it comes to that.”
“She’s not going to stop,” Seline said quietly.
“No,” I agreed. “She’s not.”
I paused at the door, one hand on the handle, and looked back over my shoulder.
And then I left, door slamming shut behind me, with the weight of everything I’d built hanging by a thread.
“Fuck!”
“Fuck!”
I hit the steering wheel of car as I gripped it so tight my knuckles cracked. The engine of the black McLaren growled under me as I swerved into the private lot of Lancaster International. My jaw clenched so hard it hurt as my chest was tight, and my thoughts were a goddamn storm.
She was supposed to be buried, out of sight, and mind, totally forgotten.
But she’s not.
She’s on every news page.
No explanation, no delay, neither was there a goddamn warning. Just boom, and she was free, like the last three years didn’t happen, like I hadn’t paid enough money to wipe her off the f**king map.
I slammed the car door and stormed toward the building.
That’s when I saw them.
Reporters, dozens of them standing in front of my company like f**king vultures waiting to pick the meat off my
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bones.
“Mr. Lancaster, any comment on your ex-wife’s release?”
“Did you pay off the police?”
“Are the fraud allegations coming back to haunt you?!”
I didn’t say a word or did I blink, I just kept walking, my eyes locked straight ahead like if I looked at them, I’d break someone’s nose.
Security flanked me, finally earning their paycheck, and cleared the way as I shoved through the front doors, inside, silence fell like a guillotine.
My employees froze in silence at the sight of me, conversations died mid-word.
But their eyes?
Every damn one of them watched me.
I could hear them thinking.
“Is it true?”
“She’s free?”
“He looks pissed.”
Whispers crawled behind my back like roaches, I didn’t care enough to lash out, not yet because I had bigger prob- lems.
I stabbed the elevator button and stepped inside alone, the mirrored walls reflecting my rage back at me, I looked like a man at war, and I was.
The moment the doors opened, I stormed out and shoved open my office doors.
Papers were stacked on my desk, calls were waiting, and I didn’t give a damn.
I ripped through folders, scattered files, trying to find something, anything, to give me control. Legal records, share- holder reports, security updates, my fingers were trembling with rage.
She was never supposed to crawl back out of that pit.
I was halfway through flipping a folder when I heard a knock on the door of my office.
I didn’t look up.
“Get the f**k out!” I roared, voice deep and unhinged. “I said no interruptions!”
There was a pause.
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Then came a slow, familiar voice.
“Ronan, It’s Howard Grayson.”
Shit!
I exhaled hard and ran a hand through my hair before yanking open the door.
“Howard, fuck. Sorry. I’m under a mountain of shit right now.”
The man stepped inside like he owned the place. Tailored suit with calm eyes. The same unshakable presence he al- ways had, he sat down slowly, without asking.
“You look like hell,” he said flatly.
I dropped into the chair behind my desk and leaned forward, elbows on my knees, staring at the carpet like it had an-
swers.
“I don’t even know what the hell’s going on anymore.”
Howard nodded once, then raised an eyebrow. “I saw the headlines this morning.”
I grunted. “Yeah. So did every asshole in this city.”
“She’s out.”
I looked up. “You mean my ex-wife is out.”
That caught him, his brow lifted slightly, but he didn’t press it.
A fucking smart man.
“So?” he asked. “Did you release her?”
I barked a laugh. “You think I’d pull that level of stupid? After everything I paid to have her buried, Howard, not bailed. I don’t know how she got out, but it wasn’t through me.”
He leaned back slowly. “Then who?”
“Your guess is as good as mine,” I snapped. “She had no friends, no money saved, no f**king name to stand on. She was supposed to disappear, the damn detective I paid off says it was anonymous, a high-level case wiped, sealed, and gone.”
Howard stared at me for a long moment, then said slowly, “How does a woman with nothing walk out of jail like roy- alty?”
I slammed my fist on the desk. “I don’t know! But I swear to God, I’ll find out. Someone’s backing her, and when I find out who, I’ll make sure they regret ever breathing near my f**king name.”
Howard stood, adjusting his cuffs with deliberate ease. “While you’re figuring it out, get your house in order.”
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I frowned. “What do you mean?”
“Your employees,” he said. “They’re talking, gossiping, and rumors in the hallways. It makes you look like you’ve lost the wheel, and you can’t afford that, Ronan.”
I stood too. “I’ll handle it.”
He gave me one nod. “See what you do, Investors don’t bet on men who look like they’re bleeding.”
With that, he turned and walked out, his shoes echoing down the hall.
I stood alone in my office, fists clenched, rage boiling under my skin like lava.
Then I screamed.
“FUCK!”
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I slammed the chair against the wall and I watched it crack but I didn’t care.
Zyrah was supposed to be done, and now she was walking free.
“Ronan, you have to do something to clear your name from the press, very fast.”
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