Chapter 3
I stared at Brooke for several seconds.
“You reported her?”
“She left her assigned floor.”
“To help me.”
Brooke shrugged.
“That’s not my problem.”
Isabella’s supervisor shifted uncomfortably.
“Mr. Vance, this is an internal staffing issue.”
“No.”
Brooke laughed.
“You don’t own the staff.”
I turned toward the supervisor.
“What’s your name?”
“Martin Hale.”
“How long have you worked at the Aurelia?”
“Eleven years.”
“Then you should probably know who owns it.”
His face changed.
Brooke frowned.
“What are you talking about?”
I looked around the ballroom.
The Grand Aurelia had been purchased eighteen months earlier by Northstar Hospitality.
Northstar was controlled by Vance Capital.
Most employees never needed to know the ownership chain.
Martin apparently didn’t.
“Call your regional director.”
His face became pale.
“Sir?”
“Now.”
He stepped away.
Brooke stared at me.
“You own this place too?”
“Part of it.”
“How much do you own?”
“That question suddenly matters?”
Her face tightened.
“That isn’t fair.”
I almost laughed.
“Which part?”
“You hid everything.”
“I hid nothing.”
“You let me think—”
“That I was useless?”
People nearby had started listening.
Good.
Brooke lowered her voice.
“I never said that.”
“You didn’t need to.”
She looked away.
That silence told me she knew exactly what she had done.
Isabella approached cautiously.
“Mr. Vance.”
“Ethan.”
She blinked.
“What?”
“My name is Ethan.”
Her cheeks reddened slightly.
“Ethan. Please don’t get anyone fired because of me.”
That surprised me.
“Martin was about to fire you.”
“I know.”
“And you’re worried about him?”
“I’m worried about everyone.”
She glanced toward several banquet workers.
“If management thinks I caused trouble, they’ll blame the whole team.”
Again.
No self-interest.
Even when she had every reason to think only about herself.
Martin returned.
He looked terrified.
“The regional director would like to speak with you.”
“Later.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Isabella is not being disciplined.”
He nodded quickly.
“Of course.”
“And neither is anyone else.”
“Yes, sir.”
Brooke rolled her eyes.
“This is ridiculous.”
I turned to her.
“You were willing to cost someone her job because she showed me kindness.”
“That’s not what happened.”
“It is exactly what happened.”
“She broke rules.”
“Because she helped a disabled guest.”
Brooke’s expression faltered.
People were definitely listening now.
She hated that.
Public humiliation had been entertaining when she controlled it.
Not anymore.
Chad shouted from near the ballroom entrance.
“This is a setup!”
Two security officers stood beside him.
His phone had apparently been taken by an attorney who arrived from our legal team.
I walked toward him.
Brooke followed.
“Ethan, don’t do this.”
“Do what?”
“Destroy him.”
Chad laughed bitterly.
“You hear that? She still cares.”
Brooke glared at him.
“Shut up.”
Interesting.
Their united front was cracking quickly.
I stopped several feet away.
“Chad, investigators will determine what happened.”
“You’re making accusations without proof.”
“I froze funding.”
“You embarrassed me in front of everyone.”
I raised an eyebrow.
“So now public embarrassment matters?”
His jaw clenched.
“You think this makes you powerful?”
“No.”
“Then what?”
I looked around at the room.
“Power is not needing everyone to know you have it.”
That silenced him.
A woman approached from the crowd.
Vanessa Cole.
An investigative reporter.
I knew exactly why she was walking toward us.
“Mr. Vance, can you confirm there’s an investigation into Mercer Development?”
“No comment.”
“Is it true Vance Capital controls the debt?”
“No comment.”
“Is Chad Mercer being removed?”
“No comment.”
Chad snapped.
“There is no investigation.”
Vanessa looked at him.
“So you deny financial misconduct?”
His attorney appeared.
“Mr. Mercer won’t be answering questions.”
Too late.
Phones were already out.
The story was spreading.
Brooke grabbed my arm again.
“Please.”
This time I saw genuine panic.
“Can we talk privately?”
I looked at Isabella.
She was helping clean broken glass from a table.
Back to work.
As though nothing extraordinary had happened.
I nodded toward a side lounge.
“Five minutes.”
Brooke followed me inside.
The second the door closed, her composure collapsed.
“Did you know?”
“Know what?”
“That Chad was stealing.”
“Not until tonight.”
She pressed both hands to her face.
“I swear I didn’t know.”
“Okay.”
“You don’t believe me.”
“I don’t know what to believe about you.”
That hurt her.
Good.
Not because I wanted revenge.
Because truth should hurt when lies had become comfortable.
She paced.
“Chad told me Mercer Development was expanding.”
“It was.”
“He said he was buying out investors.”
“With stolen money, apparently.”
She stopped.
“I didn’t know.”
“You’ve said that.”
Brooke stared at me.
“Why didn’t you tell me you could walk?”
There it was again.
Not why didn’t you tell me about the company.
Not are you recovering.
Why didn’t you tell me.
Because the truth threatened the story she had built around leaving me.
“I wanted to know who stayed when they thought I couldn’t.”
Her face hardened.
“So this was a test.”
“No.”
“It was.”
“My recovery was private.”
“You were testing me.”
“I didn’t ask you to leave.”
She flinched.
“I was scared.”
“Of what?”
“Our future.”
I laughed once.
“You mean my wheelchair.”
“That’s not fair.”
“It’s accurate.”
She started crying.
“You don’t understand.”
“Then explain.”
She looked at me.
“My mother spent fifteen years caring for my father after his stroke.”
That surprised me.
“She disappeared inside his illness. Everything became medication, appointments, bathing him, feeding him.”
Her voice broke.
“I was terrified that would become my life.”
For the first time, I understood something.
Not agreed.
Understood.
“You could have told me.”
“I know.”
“Instead you vanished.”
“I know.”
“And then started dating Chad.”
She wiped her face.
“He made things feel easy.”
“Until tonight.”
She closed her eyes.
“Yes.”
I felt no satisfaction.
Just sadness.
The relationship I had mourned was finally standing in front of me exactly as it was.
Brooke had loved the version of me that required nothing difficult from her.
Maybe she had loved me genuinely once.
But when life changed, she chose escape.
That was her right.
The cruelty afterward was not.
“I don’t hate you,” I said.
Her eyes opened.
She looked almost hopeful.
“But I don’t trust you either.”
The hope disappeared.
Someone knocked.
Rebecca entered without waiting.
“Ethan.”
Her face told me something else had happened.
“What?”
“We reviewed preliminary records.”
Brooke went still.
Rebecca looked at her.
“You may want counsel.”
Brooke’s eyes widened.
“Me?”
I turned toward Rebecca.
“Why?”
She handed me a printed transfer record.
A company controlled by Chad had transferred $250,000.
Recipient:
BROOKE HAMILTON CONSULTING.
I stared at the page.
Brooke went white.
“I can explain.”
I looked up.
“What exactly did he pay you for?”
She backed away.
“It wasn’t what you think.”
“What do I think?”
She opened her mouth.
Nothing came out.
Rebecca remained calm.
“The payment occurred six weeks ago.”
Brooke shook her head.
“It was for branding work.”
“Did you perform branding work?”
“Yes.”
“How much?”
She hesitated.
Rebecca answered.
“The company reports no marketing deliverables.”
Brooke looked trapped.
Then my phone buzzed.
A message from an unknown number.
Check Brooke’s purse.
I stared at it.
Another message arrived.
She has the drive Chad wants.
I raised my eyes.
Brooke noticed.
“What?”
I looked toward the silver clutch sitting on the lounge table.
Her eyes followed mine.
Then she moved toward it.
Too quickly.
May you like
Rebecca stepped between us.
And for the first time that night, Brooke looked more frightened than Chad.
