Chapter 180: Alexander Arrested
[I have done as you asked. Now, leave me and my son alone.]
The message fired off into the void. He stared at it, jaw clenched. The weight in his chest didn’t lift. If anything, it grew heavier.
The phone buzzed almost instantly. Xavier never made him wait.
[Good. Now, prepare for the next thing I asked of you. You’re going to summon me to the prison for an official statement. I want it on the record.]
Dominic’s lips pulled tight. A bitter taste filled his mouth. He leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling like it might have answers. His hand shook as he set the phone down again.
He exhaled slowly. "Goddamn kid..."
Xavier wasn’t finished. Not even close.
And Dominic knew, whether he wanted to or not, he’d have to play along.
Outside, the convoy pulled into the towering black gates of Celestial Penitentiary, the so-called fortress for the worst of the worst. Cameras swarmed outside, flashing like lightning storms, recording every second of Alexander Sterling’s grand "fall from grace."
But once the armored doors slammed shut behind him, the noise of the world cut off like a blade.
Inside, the air was different.
Guards in pristine black uniforms escorted him past endless steel doors and reinforced glass, their boots clicking in perfect rhythm. But unlike the usual rough handling that prisoners received here, Alexander’s escort was calm. Respectful, even. Nobody shoved him, nobody barked orders.
He was led down a polished corridor, past empty cells deliberately cleared out for his arrival.
At the end of the hall, a door hissed open.
The "cell" waiting for him wasn’t a cell at all. It was a furnished suite—white walls, leather sofa, private bed, desk stacked with untouched books. There was even a flat screen mounted on the wall and a minibar stocked with top-shelf liquor.
Alexander froze for a second, almost not believing it.
One of the guards cleared his throat. "Orders from the top. Temporary holding until things calm down. You’ll have privileges the... others don’t."
Alexander turned slowly, scanning the spotless room, then back at the guard. His lips curled. A faint, shaky laugh escaped him.
"I knew it... I knew Dominic wouldn’t let me rot with the animals."
The guard gave no reply, just stepped out and sealed the door.
Alexander dropped into the sofa, running a hand through his hair. For the first time since the world turned on him, his shoulders relaxed. He poured himself a drink with trembling hands, downed it in one go, and let the glass clatter against the table.
"Still Alexander Sterling," he muttered under his breath, convincing himself. "Still untouchable."
But even in that silence, even in the luxury prison suite, he couldn’t shake it—the faint sense that this wasn’t salvation. It was a cage.
A while later, the door slid open with a hiss, and Alexander’s head snapped up. He half-expected another guard, but instead it was Dominic Hart, tall and broad-shouldered in his crisp police blues, the man’s presence carrying the weight of authority and... familiarity.
Alexander’s face lit up with relief, almost desperation. He stood too fast, nearly knocking over the empty glass.
"Dominic! Finally... I knew you wouldn’t abandon me."
Dominic stepped inside, the door locking behind him with a heavy clunk. He didn’t smile, didn’t extend a hand. He just studied Alexander for a moment, his sharp eyes unreadable. Then he spoke in his calm, even tone.
"I told you I’d take care of everything. And I meant it."
Alexander exhaled sharply, pacing in front of the sofa. "You saw what happened out there. They’re tearing me apart. Social feeds, the press, even half the underworld’s acting like I’m already dead. I need—"
Dominic raised a hand. "I know. Which is why you need to stay put. This place is more secure than any mansion you own. No assassins, no vigilantes, no mobs. Just walls and guards that answer to me."
Alexander narrowed his eyes, lowering himself onto the sofa again. "So what’s the plan?"
Dominic stepped closer, his voice lowering like he was speaking a secret. "The higher-ups want blood. The people want a spectacle. Right now, you are the fire that keeps them distracted. But that won’t last. In a week, maybe two, they’ll turn on someone else. That’s when I’ll slip in the replacement."
"Replacement?" Alexander repeated.
Dominic nodded. "Someone to take the fall. A convenient scapegoat. We’ve done this before, Alex. You know how it works. Fabricate evidence, bury the right files, pay off the right hands. We’ll drag some poor bastard into the light, and all of this?"—he gestured vaguely toward the outside world—"vanishes."
Alexander smirked, his ego beginning to patch itself back together. "Yes... yes, you’re right. It’s the cycle. And when it’s over, I come back stronger."
Dominic didn’t respond right away. He just studied Alexander like he was measuring something... maybe his arrogance, maybe his usefulness. Then, finally, he gave a small nod.
"Exactly. Stronger."
Alexander leaned back, confident again, swirling the last drops in his glass. "Good. Then let the world laugh now. Because when I walk out of here, I’ll make them choke on it."
Dominic said nothing. But as he turned toward the door, his jaw tightened—just enough for someone paying attention to see.
Meanwhile, Xavier had just stepped out of the shower, towel slung loose around his shoulders, hair dripping down his neck. He leaned against the kitchen counter, scrolling absently through a stream of notifications, when his phone buzzed with a secured alert.
It was from Dominic Hart.
[He’s settled. I’ve convinced him. Get ready—the official summon will be pushed through by tomorrow. Be at the prison for your statement.]
Xavier smirked, tossing the towel over a chair. He typed back lazily, one-handed.
[Good dog. Make sure everything is airtight. I don’t want the idiot sniffing out the leash yet.]
The reply came back after a pause.
[Understood.]
Xavier locked the phone and let it clatter onto the counter. He poured himself a glass of whiskey, savoring the burn as he leaned back and stared at the ceiling.
"Tomorrow, huh?" he muttered to himself, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
The whole city was watching Alexander Sterling’s downfall in real time. Tomorrow, Xavier would be stepping right into the center of the stage—on his own terms.