Serena’s POV

As the morning sun filtered through the heavy curtains of our London townhouse, I found myself staring at my laptop screen, a chill running down my spine despite the warmth of the room.

"Ryan," I called out, my voice barely above a whisper. "You need to see this."

Ryan appeared in the doorway of our bedroom, his hair still damp from the shower, a towel draped around his shoulders. The moment he saw my expression, his casual demeanor shifted, instantly alert.

"What is it?" he asked, crossing the room in three long strides.

I turned the screen toward him, revealing a series of emails I’d received from an anonymous sender who identified themselves only as "Triton." The subject line read: "The Truth About Ethan’s Accident."

"These are financial transactions between the Parker family and a known criminal organization," I explained, my finger tracing across the screen. "Look at the dates—three payments. One before Ethan’s accident, one immediately after, and a final installment just last week."

Ryan’s jaw tightened as he leaned closer, his eyes narrowing as he analyzed the documents. "How did you get these?"

"I have... connections from before we met," I admitted, thinking of Triton. "After the accident seemed too convenient, I asked for help tracing anything unusual connected to the Parkers."

"These are encrypted banking transactions," Ryan muttered, scrolling through the detailed records. "Offshore accounts, shell companies—this is professional-grade money laundering."

I nodded grimly. "And look at this." I clicked on another file, revealing a series of text messages recovered from a burner phone. "They explicitly discussed ’taking care of the Quinn problem’ and making it ’look like an accident.’"

Ryan straightened, pulling out his phone. "We need to call Detective Inspector Harris immediately. This is attempted murder."

Within hours, we were seated in a sterile conference room at Scotland Yard, the evidence spread before Detective Inspector Harris, whose weathered face remained impassive as he examined each document.

"This is certainly compelling," he finally said, looking up at us. "But I must ask—how exactly did you obtain these records? Banking information of this nature requires proper warrants, and these text messages..."

"The source wishes to remain anonymous," I replied firmly, meeting his gaze without flinching. "But I can assure you, everything was obtained legally."

Ryan’s hand found mine under the table, a silent show of support.

"Inspector," Ryan added, "we understand the procedural concerns. However, these documents provide you with enough probable cause to obtain official warrants. The lives of the Quinn family remain at risk while the Parkers walk free."

The inspector leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled before him. After what felt like an eternity, he nodded once.

"I’ll have my team verify what they can through official channels. In the meantime, we’ll place additional security around Mr. Quinn’s hospital room."

As we left Scotland Yard, the weight of what we’d discovered pressed heavily on my shoulders. "Do you think it’s enough?" I asked Ryan as we slipped into the back of our town car.

"It has to be," he replied, his fingers intertwining with mine. "The Parkers have been ruthless in their pursuit of the Quinn assets, but they’ve made a critical error. "

That evening, as I sat beside Ethan’s hospital bed, I couldn’t help but notice how much stronger he looked. Maya had stepped out to get coffee, giving me a rare moment alone with my brother.

"You seem worried," Ethan observed, his voice stronger than it had been just days before.

I attempted a smile. "Just thinking about business matters."

"Serena," he said, reaching for my hand with surprising strength, "we’ve lost too many years to secrets. Tell me what’s happening."

"We’ve found evidence that the Parkers arranged your accident," I said quietly. "It wasn’t random, Ethan. They tried to kill you to gain control of LUXE while the company was vulnerable."

I expected shock, perhaps fear, but instead, a grim satisfaction crossed his features.

"I suspected as much," he admitted. "The timing was too perfect—right after I refused their final buyout offer." He squeezed my hand. "Have you taken this to the authorities?"

"This morning. Detective Inspector Harris is investigating."

A commotion in the hallway interrupted us. Maya burst into the room, her face flushed with excitement, followed by a tall man in a police uniform.

"They’ve arrested them!" Maya exclaimed, rushing to Ethan’s bedside. "Silas Parker and his son were just taken into custody!"

The officer stepped forward, introducing himself as Sergeant Williams. "Detective Inspector Harris sent me to inform you that we’ve executed search warrants on Parker Industries and their personal residences. We’ve recovered additional evidence confirming their involvement in the attack on Mr. Quinn."

Relief washed over me like a physical force. I sank into the nearby chair, my hand still clutching Ethan’s.

"What happens now?" I asked.

Sergeant Williams gathered his files, his expression grim but satisfied. "Silas Parker will remain in custody pending trial. Given the severity of the charges–attempted murder, corporate espionage, financial fraud–he’s facing significant prison time. The prosecution is confident."

As the police officer left, I sank into the leather chair in Ethan’s hospital room. My brother was sleeping peacefully, his condition improving daily under Dr. Thompson’s care.

"We got them," I whispered to his sleeping form. "They can’t hurt you anymore."

My phone buzzed with a message from Ryan: *Flight delayed. Meeting with Henderson Group pushed to tomorrow. How’s Ethan?*

I quickly typed back: *Sleeping. Police just left. It’s over.*

Ryan’s response came seconds later: *Not quite. Damage control begins now.*

He was right, of course. The Parker scandal had sent shockwaves through London’s business community. As one of the oldest trading partners of Blackwood Industries in Europe, their spectacular downfall threatened to destabilize several of Ryan’s key business relationships in England.

Over the next few days, Ryan was barely present at the townhouse, working tirelessly to reassure partners and stabilize relationships that had been built over generations. Each night he returned looking more exhausted than the last, his eyes shadowed with fatigue.

"Thompson says Ethan might be discharged next week," I told him one evening as he loosened his tie, collapsing onto the sofa beside me. "Limited mobility, of course, but he can continue his recovery at home."

Ryan nodded, his fingers absently tracing patterns on my knee. "That’s good news. How are the Quinn holdings?"

"In better shape than we expected," I replied, leaning into his warmth. "With Silas behind bars, their stock took a nosedive. I’ve been working with my mother to buy back the shares they acquired during Ethan’s hospitalization."

Ryan’s eyebrows rose slightly. "Your mother? I thought she was—"

"Uninvolved in business matters?" I finished with a small smile. "Apparently not. Hazel Quinn might present herself as a society matron, but she’s every bit as shrewd as my father was. She had contingency funds I knew nothing about."

The truth was, watching my mother negotiate with Parker’s stunned board members had been a revelation. We’d reclaimed nearly all of Quinn’s compromised assets in less than a week.

"Maya and I have been discussing Dreamland’s future too," I said, reaching for my tablet to show Ryan the plans we’d drafted. "We’re going to integrate the London studio into LUXE’s structure as their high-end custom design line. It gives us institutional backing while maintaining creative independence."