CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
CADE
ONE MONTH LATER
Truth be told, I pushed her there.
It was just... easier to compartmentalize what happened between us, and to brush it aside.
The clamor of holiday cheer left no room to linger on.
.. her. I was grateful for the distraction.
And for the open bars that trailed me to every Palm Beach holiday party.
A few bourbons or a glass of wine dulled the sharp edges of my thoughts, making it easier to let things lie.
But God, no matter how much I ignored it, her betrayal still cut deep.
I'd never felt anything like it, a raw wound that festered even as I tried to bury it under the noise.
Over those thirty days we'd been apart, I'd hated her for what I thought she'd done, loathed the way she'd played me like a fool.
And yet, in the quiet moments, I'd missed her with an ache that wouldn't quit.
There were nights I'd stare at my phone, tempted to call just to hear her voice, to feel that spark again.
But then I'd see those damn emails in my mind, hear David's voice echoing about dodging a bullet, and convince myself I was better off, that the regret gnawing at me was a weakness I couldn't afford.
And shortly after lunch on January 3rd, Chris Rowan pinged me on the office Slack. You free right now? Can I swing by?
My schedule was clear, so I told him to come up when he was ready. His message was cryptic, even for Chris, who usually kept things straightforward. He wasn’t one to make demands on my time, and his texts typically carried deference to my role as head of the company. This felt different.
Five minutes later, he stood at my office door. I waved him in, pointing to one of the two chairs across from my desk.
“Still recovering from the Jennings party?” I asked, recalling New Year’s Eve at Paul Jennings’s annual bash at the Beach Club, hosted with his third wife, Maya. Chris had been sprawled on a patio couch, two beers in, gazing at the Atlantic. “That looked like a rough one.”
“Nothing a day of sleep couldn’t fix,” he said.
“I can’t sleep after drinking like that. Always wake up at three AM with a splitting headache.”
Chris shrugged. “Years of practice, I guess.”
I nodded, my eyes catching the yellow notepad in his hand. “What’s up?”
“A lot.”
“That’s one hell of an opener.” I leaned back. “And I’m betting it’s all on that notepad.”
“Yes.”
I sighed. “You know I can’t stand vague.”
Chris shifted, glancing away before meeting my eyes. “I got some information over the holidays. Wanted to dig into it myself before bringing it to you.”
“Good.”
“Henry in IT flagged some issues with the office email. I asked him to look further into it over the weekend, even though he was off. He did us a solid.”
“And?”
“And we’ve got a mole.”
I let out a sharp laugh. “A mole?”
Chris didn’t crack a smile, and my amusement fizzled. “It’s David.”
My hands hit the desk, pressing hard into the wood. “What the hell are you talking about? First Bella is responsible for fucked-up shit, and now you’re saying David’s done stuff too? What the hell?”
“I wrote the timeline down, so I could make sense of it myself.” Chris slid the notepad across my desk, the cover flapping open from the force.
“It’s all there. The issues with the city commission, the zoning problems, the whole Promenade media mess.
.. traces back to him. David is the one behind it. ”
I snatched the notepad, my fingers trembling as I flipped through the first few pages. Even a cursory glance revealed Chris’s meticulous work, the pages so thorough it felt like a blade, sharp and undeniable. “He’s... he’s my best friend.”
The words burned in my throat, heavy with years of trust. Late nights. Shared secrets over beers. Golf. This was David, who’d stood by me when this company was hardly mine, and who knew my fears, my flaws, my everything. Fuck this.
Chris’s jaw tightened, his eyes steady but not unkind. “I know you trust him.”
“Trusted,” I spat, the past tense like acid on my tongue. My gaze hardened, locking onto Chris. “You never did, though, did you?”
“Something about him always felt...strange.” Chris leaned forward. “Page five. That’s the worst of it. He hacked Bella’s FanZone account. Planned to use it to blackmail her. And you.”
The air left my lungs, my jaw dropping as the words sank in. “Are you fucking serious?”
The man who’d toasted my successes, who’d laughed with me at Jennings’s parties, who’d been closer than a brother?
The betrayal clawed at my chest, a raw, jagged wound.
He hadn’t only undermined the company, he’d targeted Bella and then weaponized her against me.
Every memory of him twisted, tainted now.
Was every time he spoke to me a mask for this?
And why?
“I wish I wasn’t serious,” Chris said, his voice low, steady, an anchor to make sure I didn’t do something drastic. The way things were going, I very well could.
“But you’re sure?” My voice cracked, desperation seeping through. I wanted him to be wrong, needed him to be wrong.
“Triple-checked. I kept digging, hoping I’d find something to clear him.” Chris paused. “There’s nothing.”
“It sounds like I need to fire RepuMang immediately,” I said, the words thick around my anger and frustration.
“It’s a big screw up from them. Massive oversight.”
I snapped the notepad shut, my hands shaking.
Setting aside their huge mistake, this truth about David was a wrecking ball.
It wasn’t just the Promenade. This was personal.
He’d targeted Bella, dragged her into his scheme, and for what?
I needed to hear it from him. I needed to look him in the eye and understand how he could do this.
The notepad sat on my desk like a live grenade, its pages brimming with truths I couldn’t unsee.
Chris’s words echoed in my skull. David.
It’s David. My best friend. My brother in all but blood.
The man who’d stood by me through every deal, every late night, every victory, and every failure.
My chest burned, a molten mix of rage and grief, as if someone had ripped out my ribs and left me hollow.
How could he do this? My fingers twitched, itching to tear the notepad apart, to shred the evidence that turned my world upside down.
But I needed it. Needed it to confront him.
To see his face when he realized the game was up.
“Get David in here,” I said to Chris, my voice cold, barely recognizable, like it belonged to someone else—someone harder, someone who hadn’t just had his trust shattered. “Now.”
Chris nodded, his face grim, and stepped out to make the call.
The silence in the office was suffocating, the hum of the air conditioner a mocking whisper against my pounding pulse.
I stared at the notepad, its yellow cover glaring back, taunting me with the weight of betrayal.
David. Bella. The Promenade. My life’s work, my heart, my future.
It was all tangled in his lies. My hands clenched the arms of my chair, the leather creaking under my grip, grounding me just enough to keep from hurling the desk across the room.
Ten minutes later, the door opened, and David sauntered in, his usual swagger dialed up, a smug tilt to his lips.
But his eyes darted to the notepad, then back to me, a flicker of wariness breaking through his polished facade.
He knows something’s wrong. The thought sent a fresh wave of fury through me, my blood roaring in my ears.
“Cade,” he said, his voice smooth, too smooth. He flashed that easy smile, the one that had closed deals and charmed investors. “What’s this about? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“Sit.”
The word sliced through the air, sharp enough to cut glass.
I leaned forward, my elbows digging into the desk, my gaze locked on his.
Don’t you dare play innocent with me. He hesitated, his smile faltering for a split second, then dropped into the chair across from me, legs crossed, casual as ever.
I slid the notepad toward him, slow and deliberate, watching every twitch of his face. “Explain this.”
He glanced at the pages, his jaw tightening, but his expression stayed cool, almost defiant. “What’s this supposed to be? Some kind of report?” His tone was light, dismissive, as if he could wave this away like a bad joke.
“Don’t act dumb.” My voice trembled, rage clawing up my throat, threatening to choke me. I pressed my palms against the desk. “You hacked Bella’s FanZone account. You tried to blackmail her. To hurt me. Why?”
David’s face paled, but only for a moment.
Then his eyes flashed as if I were the one who’d crossed a line.
He leaned back, folding his arms, his posture screaming confidence, like a man who’d never imagined getting caught.
“Cade, listen to me,” he said, his voice low and patronizing, as if he were explaining something to a child. “I did what needed to be done.”
What needed to be done? The words hit like a punch, stealing my breath. My vision blurred at the edges, the room shrinking to just him and me, the air thick with his arrogance.
“You were my brother,” I said, standing, my hands braced against the desk, knuckles white. “I trusted you with everything. My company, my life, my... Bella. How could you do this? How could you go after her? For what?”
He didn’t flinch. Instead, he tilted his head, his eyes gleaming with a righteous certainty that made my stomach churn.