The Contract With Her Father's Billionaire Rival-Chapter 94. The Tools To Destroy Him.

The day had been hectic. Alaric had barely had time to sit or breathe without something demanding his attention.

But it was far from over.

He leaned forward and picked up his glass of scotch, but he didn’t drink it. His mind was too occupied to enjoy even the simplest pleasures.

His eyes were glued to his computer screen, trying to understand everything Detective Franklin had sent him.

The email didn’t make sense at first glance, and no matter how hard he tried, no matter how much he strained his eyes, he still didn’t get it.

Maybe it was the alcohol?

He hadn’t had much, but even a little might have clouded judgment on such a stressful day like this.

He dropped the glass and squinted, trying to comprehend the email again.

After two extra lines and still not getting it, he gave up and decided to call the detective. Maybe hearing the explanation out loud would make him understand.

But just as he was about to reach for his phone, it rang.

Trainer was on the line, and his stomach clenched as he answered.

"Hey, Trainer," Alaric said softly.

"Hey, Boss. I was calling to let you know I’m back home, sir," Trainer said.

His tone was calm, but there was a quiet sadness beneath it.

Guilt swirled inside Alaric, and he let himself feel it. He owed Trainer more than just an apology.

He couldn’t believe he had sent away his best bodyguard, the one who had always been there for him, just because of Lucian Crawford. That decision now felt reckless and stupid in hindsight.

He felt terrible for not listening to Nicolette before he made that awful decision, and now it was eating him up inside.

When he checked out the article Richard had sent, he wished the floor would swallow him for his mistake.

"That’s great to hear," he finally replied.

He meant it, even if the words felt like it wasn’t enough. "And I am sorry again, Trainer. I should have listened to your side before doing all that." His voice cracked with regret.

"I was supposed to protect your wife, sir," Trainer said in a low voice, and Alaric could hear the pain there. "And I’m sorry I couldn’t take care of her."

"It’s not your fault. Don’t blame yourself for it."

It was Lucian’s fault, and then his for making Lucian’s plan work.

He had handed his enemy the tools to destroy him.

"Moving forward, sir," Trainer said. "I promise to give in my everything to protect your wife, sir."

There was genuine sincerity in Trainer’s tone, and Alaric believed him. Loyalty like that was rare, and he wouldn’t take it for granted again. Trainer had always been good for years, always eager to do his job.

"I believe you, Trainer. Thank you for coming back," Alaric replied.

A part of him finally began to forgive himself.

Trainer laughed softly. "You’re welcome, sir."

"Is my wife home?" he asked, his heart fluttering.

"Not yet, sir."

He missed Nicolette so much. Just talking about her made his heart pound with want. Memories of her smile flooded his mind.

He knew she missed him too; he had heard it in her voice, even though she hadn’t said it.

And knowing Nicolette—she might never say it.

Alaric leaned back in his chair, his head reeling with thoughts. There were too many regrets to count, and they all circled back to her.

"Okay, Trainer. Talk to you later."

"Yes, boss," Trainer said and ended the call. 𝒻𝘳ℯℯ𝑤ℯ𝒷𝘯ℴ𝓋ℯ𝘭.𝑐ℴ𝑚

Alaric dropped his phone and reached for his glass. This time, he took a sip, hoping it would calm him.

Then a thought crossed his mind. He would love to make things right before Nicolette got back home. Something to make her day better.

He picked up the phone again and texted Tom.

"Those paintings, items, and flowers you got for my wife before, I would love for them to be available at home before she gets back."

He wanted to recreate what he had intended to do before.

Tom replied immediately. "Yes, sir."

Guilt settled in his heart as the memory of everything came crashing down.

He allowed it.

He allowed himself to feel because he knew he should feel guilty.

Lucian had ruined everything, and he had allowed him.

Speaking of Lucian.

The name alone made his stomach twist.

His thoughts drifted to the missing painting, the investigation, and then Detective Franklin.

Just as he was about to pick up his phone again, his office phone rang.

He picked it. "Hello."

"Hello, monsieur, Detective Franklin is here to see you sir," Jeanne said on the phone.

"Let him in," Alaric said, ending the call. Some moments later, there was a knock on the door. "Come in please." His voice was steady, though his pulse quickened.

The door opened, and Detective Franklin and another officer entered.

Alaric got to his feet. "Hello Detectives," he said, extending his hand. "Have your seat please." He gestured to the chairs opposite his desk.

The detectives shook him one after the other and sat.

Detective Franklin spoke first. "We haven’t gotten back from you concerning the email we sent, so we decided to come over."

"Yes, I didn’t understand it," Alaric admitted as he sat down too. "I didn’t see it on time as I was busy, but when I did, I have been staring at it all morning. And I still don’t understand it."

He hated feeling lost, especially when stakes were this high.

The other detective chuckled. "I figured the legal jargon I added might be hard to understand." He offered a half-smile, trying to ease the tension.

"What we are trying to say is that we found Ian," Detective Franklin said.

Alaric’s eyes widened, relief surging inside him. "Really? That’s excellent news!"

But the looks on the detectives shattered the joy in his chest. Their hard expressions hinted at complications.

What’s wrong this time?

He raised his brow, confusion now replacing the relief. "What happened? I thought we were supposed to be excited he is found?"

"We are excited. It’s just... for another reason," Detective Franklin said, his expression unconvincing.

"Ian has been found, sir," the other detective said, "and he was with all the paintings."

Alaric shook his head, the confusion had now tripled within him. "I don’t understand."

"When we found Ian, he was with all of the paintings," the detective explained. "We are waiting for your permission before we move to the next phase, which is why the email was sent." He spoke slowly, as if trying to guide Alaric through the maze of the situation.

Still, nothing they said was making sense.

Ian was a suspect, and then he turned into a victim. And now he was a suspect again?

The back-and-forth made his head spin.

Alaric was still deeply confused. "Is Ian a suspect or a victim? I don’t seem to... be..." His voice trailed off in uncertainty.

Detective Franklin stood up. "We apologize for the confusion, Mr. Allens, but it would be nice if you could come with us to the station, please."

Without hesitation, Alaric stood up as well.

"Alright. Let’s go."

He didn’t know what to expect anymore, but he had a feeling whatever was waiting at the station might change everything.