Page 42 of The Art of Loving You

I frowned. “What do you mean?”

Ella stiffened beside me, but I barely noticed—every nerve in my body was suddenly on high alert.

D’Angelo picked up a stack of papers and flipped through them as if double-checking before saying the words. “I just got an update from the courthouse. As of ten minutes ago, Alistair Devereux has been denied bail.”

The words slammed into me like a punch.

“What?” I barked. “Why?”

D’Angelo hesitated, glancing at Ella before answering. “Because the case just got bigger. New evidence was presented, and the judge determined that if your father is released, he’s a flight risk.”

I felt my pulse hammer in my skull. “What evidence?”

D’Angelo’s mouth tightened. “They haven’t released that yet. But whatever it is, it’s serious. He’s not getting out anytime soon.”

For a second, I just stood there, trying to process.

No bail.

My father wasn’t just being investigated anymore—he was being buried. I reached for my phone, already dialing Frank Curtain’s office, but before the call could connect?—

The front door burst open.

FBI agents. Three of them, moving with sharp precision, their badges flashing like blades in the dim light.

“Lucas Devereux?” the lead agent called, stepping forward. His suit was crisp, his stance rigid. No hesitation. No confusion.

Ella gasped beside me, clutching my arm.

I barely had time to react before the agent continued, his voice cutting through the stunned silence: “You are under arrest for aiding and abetting in an art theft ring.”

The room tilted. The air vanished. For a split second, nothing made sense.

I barely felt the agent gripping my arm, spinning me around as he pulled a pair of handcuffs from his belt.

“This is a mistake,” I growled, my breath coming faster now. “I haven’t?—”

“You have the right to remain silent,” the agent said smoothly, locking one cuff around my wrist before snapping the other into place. “Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law.”

“Lucas!” Ella’s voice cut through the chaos, sharp with panic. I turned my head just in time to see her reaching for me, her face pale, her eyes wide and pleading.

Before I could respond, I felt a shove between my shoulders. “Let’s go.”

I dug my heels in. “Wait. At least let me?—”

“Move.”

Agent Dimmel pushed me forward, and I had no choice but to go.

My mind raced. What the hell was happening? This was about my father. Not me. But as I was dragged toward the door, another realization struck me. Someone had set this in motion. Someone had given them exactly what they needed to come for me.

Was it my father?

Had he cut a deal—traded me in for his own skin?

I gritted my teeth, fury rising like a storm. I had barely taken three steps when Ella’s voice rang out again, desperate and fierce. “I love you!”

I turned my head as far as I could, searching for her. She stood frozen near the desk, her hands curled into fists, her entire body trembling. “I love you, too, Ella!”

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