Chapter 909
Aaron bowed respectfully in front of Matthew’s portrait, his expression so solemn it almost had me fooled into thinking he was here purely to pay respects. But after the whole car garage showdown? Yeah, this was definitely more than a funeral visit.
“Mom,” Jace said softly, stepping up to Lindey. She barely looked at him, her eyes glassy with tears. “Go change and stay by my side for the memorial,” she murmured.
Jace, looking steadier now, left to change. When he came back, fresh and composed, he quietly stood by her side, the picture of a dutiful son.
The room wasn’t exactly packed, though. Makes sense—when a family’s power crumbles, the people who once flocked around them tend to scatter. The Johnston empire had been on a downhill slide ever since Jace handed the reins to Wayne. And with Wayne’s sketchy dealings with the Dragos? Let’s just say people were keeping their distance. After all, Matthew was already gone. Paying respects or not wouldn’t change anything.
When Aaron finished his perfectly timed tribute, Wayne’s voice cut through the air: “Escort Mr. Ace out.”
It was no surprise. He didn’t actually think Aaron would leave, right? This was classic power-play territory. Aaron shot Lena a quick glance before replying, “No rush. I’ll wait for my family.” Lena picked up on it instantly. Sliding her arm through mine, she added, “I’m staying with Rea.”
I wasn’t planning to leave anyway—not when Lindey clearly needed all the support she could get. With us sticking around, Aaron had the perfect excuse to stay planted too.
Wayne’s glare darkened, his frustration simmering just below the surface. But he couldn’t blow up. Not here. Not now.
“Perhaps you’d prefer the lounge,” Wayne said, his voice icy.
Aaron gave a polite nod, exchanged another look with Lena, and stepped out. But his guys didn’t move. They stood like statues by the doors, making their presence very known.
Wayne’s face turned this weird mix of gray and blue, his fury barely contained. Then, a man rushed in, whispering something urgently in Wayne’s ear.
“Thorsten Drago is here.”
Of course he was. Thorsten and Matthew had been thick as thieves, their schemes the reason my parents were gone. While I’d always appreciate the Johnstons taking me in, that didn’t erase the pain—or the fury.
Thorsten strolled in wearing casual white, his face showing zero sadness or respect. Guys like him, with blood on their hands, treated emotions like they were optional. Whether he was here to “pay respects” or scheme with Wayne, it was all part of some calculated move.
Lena and I both got the vibe instantly. The second Thorsten walked in, we couldn’t stop watching him. Not that he cared. He didn’t even glance our way, treating us like we weren’t there.
He went through the motions, giving Lindey a small nod. “Lindey, my condolences,” he said.
Lindey nodded politely. “Thank you.”
That should’ve been it. Thorsten could’ve left, but instead, he turned to Wayne. “Come outside. I need to talk to you.”
Thorsten wasn’t one to tiptoe around tension, and the way he said it made his confidence crystal clear. But Wayne didn’t budge. “If it’s important, we can talk later. I’m not leaving right now.” Thorsten’s expression hardened. The tension in the room spiked, and before anyone could blink, Thorsten’s hand whipped out, landing a backhand slap across Wayne’s face.
Wayne stumbled, struggling to keep his balance.