Chapter 302: For His Little Girl

The door opened, and James Preston walked in.

He stood a little over six feet tall and was built like a man who had spent most of his life working outdoors rather than sitting behind a desk. Broad shoulders, weathered hands, silver beginning to show at his temples, and the kind of quiet presence that made the room seem smaller the moment he entered it.

His eyes found Alexander.

“There’s my boy.” He walked over and gave his son’s shoulder a firm pat.

“You didn’t have to come here, Dad,” Alexander said, pulling out a chair for him.

James lowered himself into it with a grunt and rubbed one knee. Then his eyes moved to the man behind the desk.

“Freddy.”

The Majority Leader grimaced.

“James.”

“I knew your father,” James said, almost conversationally. “Good man. He understood the value of boots with mud on them. Knew what it meant to work before sunrise and come home smelling like cattle.”

The senator shifted uncomfortably.

James looked around the office. “You grew up around people like us, Freddy. Ranchers. Farmers. People who keep our state fed.” His gaze returned to the senator. “Somehow, somewhere along the way, you forgot who we are.”

“James, I assure you—”

“You think I’m threatening you because this concerns my daughter?”

The senator fell silent.

James leaned back. “I’m not.” His voice remained calm. “I’m telling you what happens if you bury this investigation.”

The senator’s expression tightened.

“Tomorrow morning, every cattle operation under my family’s control stops shipping through my state.”

Alexander watched his father carefully.

“Every feed contract. Every transportation contract. Every processor agreement. Every agricultural investment we have there—we reconsider all of it.”

The senator’s face changed.

James continued as though he were discussing business over breakfast.

“And then I’ll make sure every rancher who has ever depended on us understands exactly who decided that BioQuant was more important than the rule of law.”

“That’s economic blackmail.” James smiled faintly.

“No, Freddy. That’s business.” James rested both hands on his cane. “I can move my business. I can move my capital. And I can move people.”

The senator swallowed.

“You have spent twenty years building a political machine in this state.” James’s eyes hardened. “I can spend six months dismantling it.”

The senator opened his mouth, but Alexander’s phone buzzed.

He glanced down. His expression changed.

“Dad.”

James looked at him. Alexander turned the screen toward him. A transaction record…a very large transfer… An offshore account had just sent money to an account connected to the Majority Leader.

James studied the screen for several seconds. Then he looked at the senator.

“So that’s how we’re playing this.”

The senator’s face went pale. “James, you don’t understand—”

“Oh, I understand perfectly.” James leaned back, his expression almost thoughtful. “Dorian lost his company today. He didn’t lose his money.”

The senator said nothing. James continued, his voice carrying the same easy drawl. “He’ll buy himself time with money. He’ll buy people willing to speak for him. He’ll try to make this investigation disappear.”

He gave a small shrug. “And if that’s what you want to help him do, I’ll make sure everyone knows about it.”

The senator’s hands tightened on his desk. “You won’t leave this state. Your family has been rooted here for generations.”

James looked genuinely puzzled. “Why wouldn’t I? And I can do more.”

He began counting the possibilities on his fingers.

“I can withdraw our political donations from you and every ally who stands with you. I can fund primary challengers against them. I can support opposition candidates in every district where it matters.”

He lowered one finger.

“I can speak to the other agricultural families in this state and let them decide whether they want to continue supporting a political machine that protects pharmaceutical companies accused of corruption.”

Another finger.

“And I can make the handling of BioQuant a national issue.”

The senator’s face had gone visibly pale.

James leaned forward slightly. “You’ve spent twenty years building influence here, Freddy.” His voice softened. “Don’t make me spend six months taking it apart.”

The senator stared at him. “You’re willing to ruin the markets over one woman?”

James’s expression changed. The faint amusement disappeared.

“One woman?”

He looked at the senator for a long moment.

“She’s my little girl.”

His voice was quieter now.

“The last gift my wife left me. And that beast bruised her and tried to kill her.”

The room fell completely silent. James rose slowly from his chair. “So you have tonight to decide what kind of man you want to be.”

He adjusted his jacket.

“The man who allowed a federal investigation into a pharmaceutical company accused of corruption and murder to be buried…”

He paused at the door.

“Or the man who decided the law mattered more than the man who paid him.”

The senator stared at him. James opened the door. Then he glanced back.

“You don’t have to fear me, Senator.”

A faint smile touched his lips.

“You have to fear what happens when I stop protecting you.”

He walked out.

Alexander followed him, leaving the Majority Leader alone behind his desk, staring at the evidence of the payment on his computer.

For the first time that night, he wondered whether protecting Dorian Blackwood was worth losing everything he had built.

—–

Maximilian dimmed the lights, drew the curtains, and carefully tucked Catherine beneath the blankets.

She was sleeping deeply, utterly exhausted from everything that had happened that day. He lingered for a moment, watching her peaceful face, before quietly closing the door behind him.

Once he was outside, he took out his phone and dialled Bobby.

“Any news about the person I asked you to find?”

Bobby chuckled on the other end. “I was just about to call you. I’ll send you the location.”

A message came through.

Then Bobby’s voice lowered. “The situation is pretty dire. Are you sure this is the right person?”

Maximilian opened the photograph Bobby had sent. His expression changed as he studied it. “Exactly the person I’m looking for.”

He saved the location. “I’ll be there.”

After ending the call, Maximilian sent Sebastian a message instructing him to station several men outside Catherine’s door. Only then did he leave the hotel.

He had one more thing to take care of.

—–

By the time William Rathbourne finished the board meeting, Dorian Blackwood had officially been removed from control of BioQuant.

It hadn’t taken much convincing.

With BioQuant’s stock collapsing and its reputation in ruins, the board members were desperate for someone capable of injecting fresh capital into the company. William had the money, the connections, and, most importantly, a plan for rebuilding what remained.

They had chosen him.

William hadn’t even waited for the ink to dry before arranging a private jet to Capitol Hill.

He needed to speak to the politicians who could still be useful to BioQuant. He also intended to meet with the FBI Director. Now that he held the chairman’s position, he could present himself as the man trying to stabilize the company and cooperate with the investigation.

At least, that was what he told Dorian about the travel. And he believed him.

Fitzgerald accompanied his father.

When the jet landed, they descended the private aircraft and made their way toward the terminal.

William was halfway through a conversation with Fitzgerald when he suddenly stopped. His eyes had fixed on someone ahead.

For a moment, he simply stared. Then recognition struck.

“Sir!”

William’s voice changed completely. He quickened his pace.

“Sir! Mr. Preston!”

Fitzgerald blinked. His father was almost running.

“Sir…”

The older man ahead stopped. William finally caught up with him.

“Mr. Preston,” he said, slightly breathless. “It’s been too long.”

James Preston slowly turned around. His gaze settled on William. It appeared that James didn’t recognize William.

But William’s face lit up with something Fitzgerald had never seen there before.

Reverence.

Not the polite respect his father showed powerful businessmen. Not the careful diplomacy he used with politicians.

Something much deeper.

Something almost like a young man seeing the person he had once desperately wanted to impress.

Fitzgerald stared at his father.

His father, who could walk into a boardroom and make seasoned executives nervous, was standing before this man like an eager student.

What on earth was going on?

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