Page 112 of Silence and Surrender

“I appreciate that.” I stood, straightening my tie. “It’s good to be back.”

The guards watched me leave, still alert but no longer on edge.

I walked back to my office through familiar corridors, nodding to employees who tried not to stare. My mind was already racing ahead to what I would tell Isabella when I returned home—the shipping manifests, the heightened security, the clear monitoring of my movements. All information that Interpol would need to complete their investigation.

I spent the rest of the afternoon reviewing documents. But beneath every action, I was playing my part perfectly, maintaining my cover while Interpol’s investigation continued in the background. Soon, they would have everything they needed to expose the hidden rot at the heart of Devereux Bank.

Chapter Forty-Four

Isabella

I heard Colton arrive home after midnight, moving silently through our darkened penthouse. The security system disarmed under his touch—a complex sequence of codes to keep us safe.

He found me in his study, where I’d curled up in his leather chair with multiple laptops surrounding me. I could feel his eyes linger on me, studying how the blue light from the screens cast shadows across my face and highlighted the new curves pregnancy had added to my frame.

“You should be sleeping,” he said softly, setting down his briefcase.

“I could say the same about you,” I replied with a tired smile. We both knew why he was late. Working past midnight was part of his cover—the driven lawyer who’d never leave at a reasonable hour, especially on his first day back. The longer he stayed, the more convincing his role.

“Had to maintain appearances,” he confirmed, loosening his tie. “But it worked. The security team is used to me keeping odd hours. No one questioned why I was still there when everyone else had gone home.”

He moved behind the chair, his hands settling on my shoulders. I could feel his concern in the gentle pressure of his fingertips as he found the knots in my muscles.

I leaned back into his touch, feeling some of the tension drain away. “How bad was it?”

“Exactly as expected.” His thumbs worked at the base of my neck, where worry had hardened into painful knots. “Rodger watching every move. Montgomery testing responses. Everything is proceeding according to plan.”

“Everything is wrong.” I closed my eyes as his hands moved higher. “The cameras in your office?”

“Positioned exactly where Sari said. Their surveillance is...thorough.”

I allowed myself a tiny smile. “Did they suspect?”

“They suspect something.” His voice stayed calm, though his hands tightened slightly on my shoulders. “But they can’t prove anything yet.”

I turned the chair to face him, meeting his gaze. In the dim light, I could see the fatigue etched around his eyes, the slight tension in his jaw that spoke of a day spent in careful performance. His usually clean-shaven face showed hints of stubble. “What did you find?”

He pulled a small drive from his pocket—anything larger would have triggered the bank’s security. “Server access logs for the past two months. Shipping manifests. Board meeting minutes.”

I immediately reached for the drive, but he caught my hand.

“Tomorrow.” He pulled me to my feet, and I swayed slightly with exhaustion. “You need rest.”

“I need to work.” But I let him lead me toward our bedroom. “Every day we wait—”

“Is another day we gather evidence.” He tenderly guided me through the penthouse, his arm around my waist supporting me. “Another day we build our case.” He pressed his forehead to mine, sharing breath, sharing pain. “But we do this right. We do this thoroughly. One mistake and they’ll know.”

I broke then, tears spilling as I clutched his shirt. He held me close while I breathed in his familiar scent mixed with the metallic tang of the bank.

“I hate this,” I whispered against his chest. “Hiding. Waiting while they—”

“I know.” He stroked my hair, and I felt my trembling slowly ease. “But we’re close. The server access Rodger granted today, it’s exactly what we needed.”

I pulled back enough to meet his eyes. “You’re sure?”

“Positive.” He traced my cheekbone with his thumb, wiping away tears. “Interpol’s program is already mapping their network. By next week—”

“A week?” Fresh tension filled my frame. “Colton, the shipping manifests—”

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