Chapter Forty-Seven
T he next day, I forced myself to leave my bedroom, having hardly slept.
I’d hardly eaten either, being too obsessed with figuring out a resolution that would keep anyone else from getting hurt.
Within hours, I rallied enough courage to do what had to be done, driving downtown.
I didn’t tell Cameron I was leaving because I knew he would stop me. And besides, Mia was home, and they deserved to spend some precious time alone together.
An hour later I was walking through the main foyer of Pulse360, amazed my ID still worked—or perhaps that was part of Jewel’s plan.
I wasn’t sure what I would say to her when I saw her—or if this course of action was as reckless as it felt. But I couldn’t let her get away with what she had done to Chad, and to Dean, even if I couldn’t come out and blatantly accuse her.
Jewel didn’t intimidate me.
Throughout my life, I’d had the privilege of meeting presidents, prime ministers, renowned scientists, and visionary business leaders. Perhaps it was my privilege that gave me the confidence to feel worthy in their presence, but it was more about searching out their knowledge, devouring the wisdom they offered, and admiring their desire to make the world a better place.
Jewel, however, preferred to wreak havoc. Not only at Pendulum, but internationally, too.
It was hard to comprehend how someone who already had everything—wealth, power, all the luxuries one could dream of—could still be driven to inflict such pain on others for the sake of having more. Jewel seemed to be bound by some dark hunger I couldn’t begin to understand.
Like any good journalist, I was going to ask her for a quote on her own story.
Asking her for an interview was the bravest thing I had ever done. Of course, she would probably refuse, until I showed her some of the evidence I had gathered—not all of it—not the stuff that would get me killed.
I returned to my desk to gather the few things I had left there, my heart racing at the thought of being back inside her hive.
Chloe sat in her cubicle, typing away, distracted by whatever she was working on.
“Hey,” I said. “Anything interesting going on?”
She paused her typing and then spun around in her chair to look at me. “You chose to come in, then?”
“Did you tell Jewel anything?”
She blushed and then looked annoyed. “Gonna tell me what else you found?”
That irritated me. “Have no idea what you’re talking about.”
The truth was scorchingly painful. What Chad had found had gotten him killed—and I had nearly died, too.
Chloe had abandoned us or double crossed us. It was hard to know for sure.
A lump caught in my throat. I couldn’t share what had happened to Chad…or me.
Saying goodbye to the place where you thought you’d be working for years felt surreal. I’d miss the familiar hum of this floor, the sound of talented journalists working to uncover stories, but now that excitement was tainted.
I thought about the small things I’d taken for granted, like the way Chad would toss the mail down onto our desks with that frustrated sigh. At first, it had annoyed me, that ritual of his, but now it was strange how much I missed him.
“Have you seen Chad?” Chloe looked toward the elevator, as though expecting to see him.
“I just got here.”
“Course you did,” she bit back.
I refused to take the bait. There were more important issues to fight against, and this tension was futile. Chloe would soon be forgotten.
But never Chad.
I felt a flash of grief as I glanced toward the coffee room where we had our first run in, where he told me what he knew, desperate for answers. I would carry that torch onward for him.
I planned to expose what had happened to his boyfriend, Dean—and I would strive to honor Chad’s life and work.
“What did you do when you left Dean’s place?” I asked, my tone accusatory.
She stared at me. “You did what you had to do with Greyson.”
“Did you tell Jewel we were going to Dean’s home before we even went?”
Chloe avoided my gaze, her face looking flushed. “How’s Greyson?”
I set my bag down. I needed to see how much Chloe had shared with Jewel about our trip to North Hollywood.
“What do you have on Greyson?”
That made her smile. “Why, gonna tell him?”
“Actually, I know a big secret about him,” I told her. “It would blow your mind.”
She looked intrigued. “You got the scoop!”
I rested my hand on the back of my office chair. “What do you think?”
“We can share credit?”
“On his story?”
She flinched. “I thought he was a friend.”
“What would you do to launch your career?” I asked, and there it was, that quick glance upward through the ceiling, toward Jewel’s office.
I knew she had called Jewel yesterday.
What she might not know, however, was that Jewel had sent in one of her thugs to grab the evidence. The same evidence I had escaped with—the notebook.
Chloe had unwittingly placed us in danger.
It was ironic that staff were rushing around searching for a big story and all the while there was one of the biggest scandals unfolding here within their ranks.
“Can you answer me this?” said Chloe. “Why would a French prime minister be interested in Greyson Grantchester?”
“How do you mean?”
“Over thirty years ago, Alexandre Beaumont hired a private investigator to find a boy. I believe he was searching for Greyson.”
“How is that relevant?” Of course I knew the answer. Greyson had shared that Beaumont had done the unthinkable to try to find him.
Beaumont had murdered his mother in cold blood.
“I was just trying to put the pieces together before you kidnapped him.”
“At the hotel?” I scoffed. “Greyson wanted to talk.”
She stabbed her finger into the air. “I did all this work, and you sabotaged me.”
“I’m sorry you feel that way.”
She looked annoyed. “Find anything else at Dean’s place?”
“Yes,” I said, “but as you’ll go straight to Jewel with it, I’ll never share it with you.”
“You’ll never be successful in this industry, because you don’t know what it is to mix with real people.”
That made me bristle. “Chloe, I may come from privilege, but I know the value of a life.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“Actions have consequences.” I raised my chin. “We both know the story is bigger than the both of us. The real story.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You’re gunning for me when the villain is your boss. Only you don’t want to see that because she’s told you she’ll help further your career. That puts you in a precarious place when it comes to morals.”
“You were about to sell out a friend.”
“No, I just wanted to hear what you had on him.” I picked up my bag. “I would never betray Greyson. Ever.”
“You are so fired,” she snapped.
“I know,” I said brightly. “And it feels delicious.”
“He was here, you know.” She smirked. “You just missed him.”
“Missed who?”
She turned away and began typing on her keyboard. “Greyson Grantchester.”
“What do you mean?” My reaction pleased her. “He came to see Jewel?”
She nodded. “Without an appointment.”
She really wasn’t the person I had believed her to be.
“I wish you all the luck,” I said, turning away, needing to put distance between us.
Outside the elevator, I stood with my heart thundering, waiting an eternity for the doors to open.
Once inside, it seemed to take forever to rise to the top of the building. I recalled the first time I had visited the executive floor.
I rushed out of the elevator as soon as the doors opened, hurrying down the hallway. I looked through the glass wall of her office and saw it was empty.
I caught the secretary’s attention.
She peered up at me from behind her desk.
“Is Jewel in today?”
She bristled. “Ms. Hadley will not be in today.”
I felt a flash of disappointment. I’d driven in especially to speak with her, stirred up my courage and gone over all the things I wanted to say.
I took a deep breath. “Did Greyson Grantchester come in to see her?”
“How do you know that?”
“I know him.”
She looked suspicious. “Mr. Grantchester had the same reaction as you when I told him she wasn’t here today. Told him next time he should make an appointment. I’ll say the same to you. We don’t have an open-door policy. What’s going on?”
“How do you mean?”
“Do I need to call her with a message?”
I tried to act nonchalant. “Jewel asked me to share a finding once it was substantiated.” The excuse sounded convincing.
“Email her.”
“She’s at home?” I asked casually.
The phone rang, annoying her. She took a message and then met my gaze.
“What was that, Ms. Cole?”
“I was just wondering if Ms. Hadley is working from home.”
“Jewel is in Paris.”
“Oh, France?” I gave a nod. “That’s right, she did tell me.”
“Mont-Saint-Michel.”
“The castle?” I asked. “I remember her saying it’s for the…”
“The gala for the Arcadia Accord,” she offered.
“Did you happen to mention this to Mr. Grantchester?”
She peered off as though searching the skyline for one of his creations. “Yes, he drove all this way. I figured he was owed an explanation of why the CEO wasn’t in.”
“So he knows where she went?”
“Mr. Grantchester told me he’s building a mausoleum for Ms. Hadley.”
“I’m sorry, what?”
“I’m guessing for a relative.”
A mausoleum. Not for a loved one. Not for a relative. No, the way she had conveyed his words, it was for Jewel—a resting place before she was ready to rest.
A cloaked threat that may never reach her.
Jewel’s secretary turned away to answer the phone again.
I flew out of the office, heading for the elevator, my stomach twisting with agony as I realized Greyson would have a five-hour head start to France.