Chapter 18
Alec Benjamin had thought victory would feel cleaner.
The court had ruled in his favor, the papers were signed, and the house—his father’s house, was no longer under Bruce Ford’s name. He had spoken the words in public, claimed the triumph with poise, and watched the whispers spread through the city. By all appearances, he had won.
Yet as he stood in the quiet of his own apartment, glass in hand, unease gnawed at him. The view from his window stretched across the dark streets, but his mind was elsewhere, circling the memory of Bruce’s face when he had seen the judgment.
Bruce had looked less like a beaten man and more like one cornered. There had been fury there, a rage too sharp to accept defeat.
Alec sipped his drink, the bitterness catching on his tongue. He had told him
