Money Power 26

Landon’s POV

I didn’t fly halfway across the world to talk. I came to tear the truth out by force.

By the time the Remington estate came into view through the tinted window of the black SUV, my knuckles were still raw, blood dried and cracking from the hit I’d laid into the wall before I left.

I didn’t wait for the driver to park. The second the brakes hissed, I was out.

The estate guards didn’t stop me. They knew who I was, and more importantly, they knew better than to get in my way when I moved like this.

Carla had called me just before takeoff. Her voice was shaky, hushed like she didn’t want anyone hearing her.

She said she’d seen Marian enter my penthouse the night Emery walked out, carrying a bottle of champagne and wearing a silk robe under her coat. She left hours later, claiming she’d forgotten something.

Carla didn’t buy it. And now, neither did I.

The moment I crossed the front hall, I went straight for the surveillance wing. I didn’t bother giving the staff a glance. I didn’t need to. The building recognized my access.

My name was etched into its bones.

I scanned my ID and pushed through the steel door that read Internal Surveillance and Communications. Inside, the room went silent. Three techs stared at me, mid-keystroke.

“I want access to the last two weeks of logs,” I said flatly. “Emails. Visitor records. Every camera feed across every wing.” One of them hesitated, opening his mouth like he might object.

“I’m a Remington,” I said, stepping closer. “I don’t need clearance. I am the clearance.” He said nothing after that.

I took the terminal and began working fast. It didn’t take long. The files weren’t erased, just buried under a chain of layered archives that only someone with legacy access could crack.

Lucky for me, that was exactly what I had.

The email chains were dressed up in polite subject lines: Dinner Plans, Board Notes, but the content underneath stripped away every doubt I’d held onto.

Make sure she sees you.
He won’t come back until she breaks. Make her break.
Champagne and silk always did the trick. Don’t forget the red lipstick.

My jaw locked. I kept scrolling. Dozens of them. My mother. Marian. Coordinating. Planning. Timing.

They hadn’t just hoped to push Emery away, they staged it. Down to the lighting, the robe, the goddamn champagne flute left on the counter.

They weaponized her trauma. Used it like a lure, a trigger they knew would undo her.

And I let it happen. I wasn’t even in the city when she found Marian in that apartment.

I stepped back from the screen, fists clenched. My lungs burned like I’d been holding my breath the whole time. I hadn’t protected Emery. I’d walked her straight into an ambush.

I turned to the techs, voice sharp. “Print every message. Every timestamp. I want hard copies. Bind them if you have to. I’ll collect them in one hour.”

“Yes, sir.”

I didn’t wait for confirmation. I left the room and cut across the north corridor to the east atrium, where I knew she’d be.

Marian always preferred the light there. She said it was flattering, even though she never stayed long enough to appreciate it.

She was seated by the tall windows, nursing a coffee, looking like she didn’t have a single regret in the world.

She looked up when I entered, smile easy. “Landon. That was quick.”

I didn’t return it. I walked up and stopped directly in front of her.

“You think this is a game?” I asked, voice low but tight with control.

Her smile faded slightly. “What are you talking about?”

“You staged that night,” I said. “You used Emery’s trauma like a script. Champagne, silk, an unlocked door. You wanted her to walk in on it.”

“I was trying to help you see what was real.”

“No,” I said. “You were trying to break her. You wanted to shatter whatever strength she had left so you could step into the void. And you did it with full support from my mother.”

Her jaw tightened. “She left you. I didn’t. Doesn’t that count for anything?” I stepped in. Close enough that she leaned back without meaning to.

“If anything happens to Emery or that baby,” I said, voice like stone, “you won’t just lose your board seat. I’ll drag your name so deep through scandal you won’t even get invited to a charity dinner, let alone a Remington gala.”

She swallowed but didn’t speak. I wasn’t finished.

“You’re done. No more calls. No more visits. Stay away from her.”

“And if I don’t?” she said, but there was no defiance in it now.

I didn’t blink. “Then I won’t just expose you. I’ll make sure you wish I had.”

She didn’t respond. I turned and walked back through the corridor, jaw clenched so tight it ached. Just before I hit the hall, I said it one more time, quieter this time, but just as certain.

“If anything happens to her, you’ll wish all you lost was this company.”