Page 96 of The Alpha's Crimson Vow

“10 PM. I’ll stop by your office before heading to the airport,” she says.

“Plenty of time,” I murmur, nodding even though she can’t see me. “Alright, I’ll be here. I’m working late anyway.”

“As usual,” she teases. I hang up, setting the phone down beside me.

It’s only now, in the momentary pause, that I realize how late it’s gotten. The office is quieter than before, the usual hum of voices and footsteps reduced to nothing but the occasional distant sound of the cleaning staff. Outside my window, the city lights flicker against the darkening sky, cars weaving through the streets like moving stars.

Still, I have no plans to leave anytime soon. There’s too much left to do. I lean forward again, refocusing on my screen, fingers poised over the keyboard. A few minutes trickle by then, there’s a knock at the door.

I glance up, brows pinching together. Strange. Most of the employees would have gone home by now.

Alice? Maybe she wasn’t too far when I called.

I don’t overthink it. “Come in,” I say.

I blink. Once. Twice. And for a second, it feels like the entire room freezes. The air thickens, the faint hum of the city outside dulls, and all I can hear is the steady, rhythmic pounding of my own heart.

Standing in the doorway, like a shadow that shouldn’t be here, is Frank.

“Good evening, cousin,” he says, his voice smooth, practiced. The door clicks shut behind him, the soft sound sending an uneasy ripple down my spine.

His name leaves my lips before I can stop it. “Frank?”

It comes out almost breathless, laced with a surprise I wish wasn’t so obvious. My brain immediately races back to James’ email—his warning.I’m sure Frank was involved in your parents’ deaths, but there’s no proof yet.

I move in my seat, forcing my expression into something more neutral, more unreadable. My heart is still hammering, but I refuse to let it show.

“I wasn’t expecting to see you,” I say, my voice even.

Frank steps forward, his movements slow and deliberate, like he’s savoring every second of this moment. He helps himself to the chair across from me, his posture relaxed, his lips curved into an easy smile. But there’s something underneath it—something cold and sharp.

“That’s not a nice way to greet a cousin you haven’t seen in a while, Katherine.” His tone is light, almost playful, but there’s a weight behind it, something that makes my pulse quicken.

I inhale deeply, my fingers pressing against the edge of my desk. “How did you get past security?” My tone is curt, clipped.

He shrugs, completely unbothered. “Come on, Katherine. I’m a Lockhart, just like you. Plus, I’ve worked here long enough to call in a few favors.”

I don’t respond. Silence stretches between us.

Frank tilts his head slightly, studying me with those sharp green eyes. He’s smiling, his expression deceptively warm, but my instincts are screaming at me.You’re in danger.

“What do you want, Frank?” I ask, pointed, unwilling to entertain whatever game he’s trying to play.

He doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, his gaze drifts around my office, as if he’s just here for a casual visit, as if he has all the time in the world. Then—

“Wasn’t it your birthday a day or so ago?” he asks.

I don’t flinch, but my jaw tightens. “I doubt you came here to talk about my birthday.”

He holds my gaze for a long moment before letting out a soft chuckle. “You never really liked your birthdays growing up.” His voice is thoughtful, like he’s reminiscing, like we’re just two old friends catching up. “It was one of those things about you I always found strange. Everyone else got so excited, counting down the days, throwing parties. And then there was you. Always serious. Always distant. I remember you saying—what was it?—‘Birthdays are silly.’” He leans forward slightly, resting his forearms on his knees. “Even as a kid, you thought you were better than everyone else.”

I raise a brow, staring at him, but before I can respond, he keeps going.

“You know what else I remember?” His tone changes, a quiet edge slipping into it. “I remember how smart everyone said you were. It was all anyone ever talked about. Every Thanksgivingdinner, every Christmas visit—it was always Katherine this, Katherine that. The perfect, brilliant Lockhart heir.”

He exhales a small laugh, but there’s nothing funny about it. “I think that’s when I started to hate you.”

His voice drops lower, tighter, and there’s an unmistakable venom in it now, like something that’s been festering for years, waiting for the right moment to strike. My heart starts to pound.

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