Chapter 7
CHAPTER
SEVEN
PRESLEY
Vincent and Miranda are still out in the hallway, arguing about something in low voices. The walls in this place may look solid, but they carry sound. I can hear just enough to know I don’t like the tone.
Aria’s sitting beside me, flipping through her notes on the recovered jewels, but her eyes aren’t really on the page. I can tell she’s thinking about the same thing I am — the fake security, the missing minutes of footage, the way everyone’s suddenly acting like the case is closed.
I lean in slightly, keeping my voice low. “There’s something else I haven’t told you.”
She looks up, wary. “That’s not exactly the sentence I like to hear right before a briefing.”
“Relax,” I say, though my pulse is anything but. “It’s not about you. It’s about Talia Brandt.”
Her brow furrows. “What about her?”
I glance toward the closed door, then back at her. “I think she’s having an affair. With Vincent.”
Aria blinks. “What?”
“Think about it,” I say. “Talia comes to the Jade Petal once a week — always on Thursday nights, always alone. She orders bottle service, racks up a bill north of five grand, and every single time, it’s comped. Not discounted, not reduced — completely written off.”
She tilts her head, eyes narrowing. “And you know this how?”
“Because I review the weekly comp logs,” I tell her. “Anything over a thousand gets flagged to my department for approval. And every time I see her name, it’s marked as ‘executive authorization.’ That means Vincent.”
Aria folds her arms, processing. “She’s the wife of your biggest competitor. Why would he risk that?”
“That’s what I’ve been asking myself.” I tap my finger against the table. “She could easily go to the Citadel — her husband’s property — and spend twice as much there without raising eyebrows. But she doesn’t. She comes here. Over and over again.”
“And you think it’s because of Vincent.”
I nod. “She’s got a reason for choosing this casino specifically. It’s not about convenience, or luxury — she already has both. It’s about someone.”
Aria leans back slowly. “So what, you think this affair ties into the fake jewels?”
“I don’t know yet,” I admit. “But if Vincent’s seeing Talia behind Dalton Brandt’s back, that’s a direct line between the two casino empires.
And if they’re working together — or covering for each other — that could explain everything.
The fake recovery, the confession, the sudden push to end the investigation. ”
Aria’s quiet for a moment. Then, softly: “You think Vincent planted the story about the janitor.”
“I think Vincent wanted it to go away,” I say. “And Talia had the leverage to help him do it.”
She exhales, running a hand through her hair. “Presley, if that’s true—”
“Then we’re not just chasing a jewel thief anymore,” I say. “We’re standing in the middle of a cover-up.”
The door handle clicks. Voices outside stop.
I look at Aria one last time before Vincent and Miranda step in. “Play it cool,” I murmur. “We don’t want them to know what we know.”
She nods once, eyes steady.
Vincent sits across from me, jacket off, sleeves rolled, that permanent air of authority wrapped around him like armor. Miranda’s beside him, flipping through a file she’s already memorized, pretending to be bored.
Aria’s next to me, straight-backed, calm, professional. She opens her folder, ready to speak, and I can tell by the look in her eyes that she’s about to lay it all out—every hole, every inconsistency, every reason this case shouldn’t be over.
Which means it’s time for me to do something stupid. Before she can start, I stand. Her head snaps toward me, confusion flashing in her expression. “Presley—”
I give her a small shake of the head. Just trust me.
“Before we get into the details,” I begin, voice smooth, practiced, steady, “I wanted to give a quick overview of where we stand.”
Vincent leans back in his chair, satisfied. He loves a presentation.
I keep my tone neutral. “Our joint investigation has been thorough. We’ve rechecked entry logs, verified shift schedules, and mapped every service corridor within range of the transfer point.
We’re still reviewing footage—especially from the night of the exchange—but we haven’t gotten through all of it yet. ”
Miranda nods, uninterested. “And you don’t expect to find anything else, correct?”
I pause, letting the silence stretch just enough to sound professional. “At this stage,” I say finally, “there’s no active threat to the assets. The recovered jewels match the recorded measurements, and the internal reports all align with the timeline provided by both casinos.”
I can feel Aria’s eyes on me. She knows I’m lying. Knows exactly what I’m doing. But she doesn’t stop me. She just folds her hands in her lap and lets me keep going.
Vincent smiles faintly. “Excellent. So the issue’s resolved, then.”
Miranda closes her folder with a soft snap. “It’s been a long few days. I think it’s safe to say we can put this to bed.”
I nod. “Agreed.”
Aria adds smoothly, “We’ll finish cataloging the last batch of footage just for documentation, but yes—everything appears consistent.”
I glance sideways at her. She’s a perfect liar when she wants to be.
Vincent stands, signaling the meeting’s end. “Good work, both of you. I’ll have PR finalize the closure statement this afternoon.”
Miranda smiles thinly. “Glad that’s over.”
We all exchange the usual polite nods and shake hands like this is just another day at the office. But the second we step into the hallway and the door shuts behind us, Aria rounds on me.
“What was that?” she hisses.
“Damage control,” I say quietly. “If we’d told them what we actually found, we’d have no chance of finding the real thief.”
She studies me for a long moment, jaw tight. “You should’ve warned me.”
“I couldn’t. You would’ve argued, and we needed them comfortable.”
She exhales through her nose, eyes narrowing. “So now they think it’s over.”
“Exactly,” I say. “Which means they’ll stop watching us. There’s something else.”
She doesn’t look at me, just keeps her eyes forward like she’s taking notes. “Of course there is,” she says under her breath. “You going to drop this one in the middle of a staff meeting too?”
“Relax,” I whisper. “No one’s listening.”
“I’ve been keeping a secret from you. About Miranda.”
That gets her attention. Her pen stills mid-note. “What kind of secret?”
“She’s in debt. Big time. A hundred thousand dollars owed to the Jade Petal. And rumor has it, that’s just the local tab.”
Aria turns slightly toward me, her whisper sharp. “You’re serious?”
“Dead serious. The heads of these hotels—Vincent included—are a tight-knit club. They let each other slide on gambling debt as long as it stays quiet. But Miranda’s been pushing it.
I’ve heard she owes even more at other casinos.
Word is, she’s been taking out short-term credit through front companies just to keep herself afloat. ”
Aria’s eyes flick briefly toward Miranda. “That’s dangerous. Especially for someone in her position.”
“Exactly.”
“Do you think she stole the jewels?”
I exhale slowly. “I don’t know. But think about it—who was in that room when the new security measures were approved? Vincent. Miranda. You. Me. That’s it. And we know the fake detector was installed intentionally. We know the jewels that were ‘recovered’ are fakes. Someone here made it happen.”
Aria’s voice drops even lower. “And you’re saying the only other two people who could have done it both have a motive.”
I nod once. “Vincent’s affair gives him access. Miranda’s debt gives her desperation.”
Aria leans back, crossing her arms, eyes distant. “And we’re the only ones who don’t have anything to gain.”
I smirk faintly. “Unless you’re secretly fencing diamonds out the back of the Citadel.”
She glares at me. “Not funny.”
“I have a plan,” I say, quiet but firm.
Her eyes meet mine, unreadable for a second. “To do what?”
“To uncover who the real thief is,” I say. “But I need you to trust me. Completely.”
She tilts her head, skeptical but steady. “Trust you?”
“Yeah,” I nod. “No second-guessing, no splitting off to follow your own hunch. We do this together. Start to finish.”
She watches me for a long moment. I expect pushback, maybe even a smirk. But instead, she surprises me.
“I trust you, Presley.” Her voice is soft, certain. “Just tell me what you need. I’ll follow your lead.”
I wasn’t ready for how much those words would hit me. Before I can stop myself, I reach out and take her hand. It’s not flashy. Not dramatic. Just solid, warm, and real. She doesn’t pull away.
“Come on,” I say. “We’re going to the police station.”
She raises an eyebrow. “To do what?”
“To talk to my high school buddy. We’re going to need his help.”