Falling for my Brother’s Rival

Closing In

Noah’s Pov

Renee called just after midnight, her voice tight with the kind of urgency that immediately pulled me fully awake, the phone nearly slipping from my hand as I sat up in the darkness of my bedroom, Sophia stirring beside me at the sudden movement.

“I found something,” she said without preamble. “A connection between Victor Kane and the offshore accounts used to pay Daniel Foster. It took some digging, layers of shell companies designed specifically to obscure ownership, but the trail eventually leads back to a holding company registered under Victor’s late wife’s maiden name.”

“That’s enough to tie him directly to the payments?”

“It’s enough to raise serious red flags with federal investigators, especially combined with everything else you’ve already gathered. I’m sending everything over now, but Noah, there’s something else you need to know.”

Something in her tone made my stomach tighten. “What is it?”

“Whoever’s monitoring this situation isn’t just watching Sophia anymore. There’s evidence someone’s been tracking your movements too, cell tower data suggesting surveillance around your apartment, your training facility, even this coffee shop where we met a few weeks ago.”

I glanced toward the window instinctively, an uneasy chill settling over me despite the warmth of the apartment. “How long has this been happening?”

“Based on what I can trace, at least since the trade was announced. Possibly longer.”

After ending the call, I sat in the darkness for several minutes, turning over the implications until Sophia finally reached for my hand, her voice heavy with concern. “Noah, what’s wrong?”

I explained everything Renee had discovered, watching her expression shift from confusion into fear as the full scope of Victor’s surveillance became clear, extending far beyond just her, encompassing every corner of both our lives with a thoroughness that felt increasingly suffocating.

“He’s been watching all of us,” she whispered. “This whole time.”

“Which means he already knows we’re building a case against him.”

“If he knows that, why hasn’t he done something already? Why wait?”

I didn’t have an answer for that, though the question lingered uncomfortably as morning arrived and we gathered again at Mason’s apartment, spreading fresh evidence across his dining table alongside everything already collected, the three of us working with renewed urgency once I explained what Renee had uncovered overnight.

“We need to move faster,” Mason said, pacing the length of his living room with barely contained energy. “If he knows we’re closing in, he’ll either try to destroy evidence or escalate whatever he’s planning.”

“I’ve already contacted a federal prosecutor,” Renee said, joining us later that afternoon with a folder thick enough to require both hands to carry. “Given the scope of what we’ve uncovered, financial fraud, witness tampering, potential involvement in your father’s murder, they’re willing to open a formal investigation immediately.”

“How long before charges could actually be filed?”

“Realistically? Weeks, possibly longer, depending on how quickly they can secure additional corroborating evidence and build an airtight case that will hold up against whatever legal team Victor inevitably assembles.”

Weeks felt like an eternity given everything already happening, though none of us had any real choice but to trust the process, however frustratingly slow it felt compared to the mounting danger surrounding us.

That evening, exhausted after another long day spent organizing documentation, Sophia and I finally returned to my apartment, both of us desperate for even a few hours of normalcy amid everything unraveling around us. She fell asleep quickly, curled against my side, while I remained awake far longer, staring at the ceiling as my mind refused to quiet.

Sometime past two in the morning, my phone buzzed against the nightstand, an unknown number flashing across the screen, and against every instinct telling me to ignore it, I answered anyway, stepping quietly into the living room so as not to wake Sophia.

“Noah Steele.” The voice on the other end was calm, measured, carrying an unmistakable air of quiet authority that immediately set every nerve in my body on edge. “I’ve been hoping we might finally speak directly.”

My grip tightened around the phone. “Victor Kane.”

“I see my reputation precedes me.” He chuckled softly, an unsettling sound entirely devoid of genuine humor. “I understand you and Mason, along with young Sophia, have been quite busy lately, digging through matters best left undisturbed.”

“You murdered my father. You orchestrated Tyler’s death. And now you’re targeting Sophia and our unborn child.”

“Such serious accusations. I’d be careful throwing around claims you can’t fully substantiate, at least not yet.”

“We have enough evidence to bury you, Victor.”

“Do you?” His voice remained infuriatingly calm, almost amused. “I’ve spent decades ensuring my interests remain protected, Noah. I wouldn’t be quite so confident if I were you.”

“Is that a threat?”

“Consider it a friendly warning, one final courtesy before circumstances become considerably less pleasant for everyone involved.” A pause stretched between us, deliberate and unsettling. “Tell me, how is Sophia feeling these days? Pregnancy can be such a delicate, vulnerable time. I’d hate for anything unfortunate to happen before she has the chance to fully understand her own history.”

Fury surged through me with an intensity that made my entire body tremble. “If you go anywhere near her—”

“Relax, Noah. I have no interest in unnecessary violence, provided everyone remains sensible about how they proceed from here.” His tone shifted, colder now, stripped entirely of its earlier amusement. “Call off your little investigation. Convince Mason and Sophia to abandon whatever they believe they’ve uncovered, and I promise, this entire situation disappears quietly, exactly the way it should have remained buried years ago.”

“I’m not calling off anything.”

“Then I suppose we’ll simply have to see how this plays out.” Another pause, heavier this time, filled with quiet menace that sent ice through my veins. “You should know, Noah, Sophia isn’t the only one with secrets buried in her past worth protecting. Ask her about the accident that supposedly destroyed all her baby photographs. Ask her what really happened to the house she claims burned down before she turned two.”

My breath caught. “What are you talking about?”

Victor’s voice dropped lower, almost gentle, deliberately cruel in its calm delivery. “Some secrets, Noah, run far deeper than even you’ve managed to uncover.”

Then, before I could respond, before I could demand any further explanation, the line went dead.