Chapter 58 Good Men and Bad Men
GOOD MEN AND BAD MEN
ASHLEY
I’m not in the mood for small talk—at all. But somehow, I manage to introduce Noah.
“This is my brother-in-law, Noah Grady.”
“The groom!” Agent Sugarbaker says brightly, her tone a little too chipper for the circumstances. She makes a few comments that tell me she knows all about the wedding. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised.
“Well,” she says, already turning, “I’m sure you’re anxious to speak with Beckett. If you’ll follow me.”
My heart actually slows down. Beckett is here. A part of me was half afraid that he wouldn’t be.
We walk down a sterile hallway, everything cold. Quiet. Grey.
I should be asking questions. Pressing her for details.
But I don’t want answers from her.
I want Beckett.
So we walk in silence. Me. Noah. Agent Sugarbaker.
We take an elevator. Another corridor. The air feels heavier the farther we go, like it’s pressing in on me. I can hear the buzz of fluorescent lights and the soft echo of our footsteps. Finally, we reach a steel door.
She turns to Noah. “Dr. Grady, you can wait here.”
He gives me a tight nod—then a thumbs up—and stays behind.
Agent Sugarbaker swipes a card. The lock clicks.
I hesitate for just a heartbeat before stepping through.
And there he is.
Wearing dark jeans and a navy pullover, he’s seated at a table, staring at a cup of coffee. His black hair… It’s damp, curling slightly at the ends like he’s just stepped out of the shower.
And then he looks up.
Our eyes meet—
The room disappears. The weight of the last twenty-four hours, the past month, the past year—it crashes into me and lifts at the same time.
“Ash.” It’s barely a sound. More like a breath.
His chair scrapes back violently as he stands, nearly tipping over, and my body moves before my brain catches up.
I’m across the room in three steps, my hands in his hair, my face pressed into his neck like I need proof that he’s real. Warm. Breathing.
He smells like soap and coffee and Beckett.
One of us is shaking. Or maybe both.
He cups the back of my head, fingers sliding into my hair, and I feel his mouth brush my temple, my cheek. A thumb sweeps beneath my eye.
“You’re here,” he murmurs, like he wasn’t sure I’d come.
I nod into his shoulder. “Of course I’m here, you idiot.”
Behind me, someone clears their throat.
Reluctantly, Beckett loosens his hold, though he doesn’t let go completely—one arm still wrapped tight around my waist. He glances over my shoulder, then back at me.
“You’ve met Sugar?” Something like a crooked smile tugs at his mouth.
I pull back just enough to get a better look at him. Really look at him. At the tension still braced in his shoulders, the exhaustion in his eyes.
“Briefly,” I say.
Agent Sugarbaker gives a polite nod. “I’m going to track down the reports I need you to sign,” she says briskly. “I’ll give you two a few minutes.”
The door closes behind her and with that, an expectant silence closes in.
Beckett lets out a long breath, then guides me down to the chair beside him. No—pulls me, until I’m seated close enough that our knees touch, his arm draped around my shoulders like he’s afraid I might disappear.
“I owe you an explanation,” he says.
I swallow. But… I’m ready to hear whatever he has to say.
“Start anywhere.”
He stares at the table for a moment, jaw tight. When he finally speaks, his voice is low. Careful.
“It started with the bonuses,” he says. “I was killing it, Ash. You saw the deposits. The market was hot, Aurum was everywhere. I mean, I was on top of the world. Everything felt... golden.”
I already know this, but I nod, waiting.
“And then last spring,” he goes on, “I was playing golf with Kyle—you remember Kyle Kemper?”
“I remember. The… CFO.” I may be ready to hear this but my mouth is dry.
He gives a hollow laugh. “Yeah. Well… We were on the back nine, I was under par. He’d had more than a few beers—and Kyle brings up Aurum.
He says something like—’we’re selling the dream.
Long as the story holds, so does the stock.
’ But it was weird, the way he was… was talking about it like we were both in on some joke.
‘Smoke and mirrors,’ he said. I had no idea what he was talking about.
But… smoke and mirrors in investing is never a good thing. ”
“Did you ask what he meant?”
Beckett shakes his head. “I played along. It sent up a red flag but I wanted to ignore it, concentrate on my game. Looking back, I don’t think I wanted to know,” he admits.
“But…?”
“But it didn’t sit right.” He holds my gaze. “I kept thinking about it that night. Kyle fed me that stock, and I trusted him, but I couldn’t let it go.”
“And?” I already know. The world already knows.
“The numbers didn’t match the hype,” he says, rubbing a hand over his jaw, voice tight now. “That story Kyle was talking about, it was a fairy tale.”
“So the stock—”
“Was being held up artificially,” he cuts in. “It looked like momentum, but it was just rotation. Money coming in at the bottom so it could be pulled out at the top.”
“And it wasn’t just Midtown.” Not according to the news…
“No.” He exhales slowly. “God, I should have seen it right away. It wasn’t just bad oversight—it was deliberate. It was a system. Feeding off of…” he swallows hard. “Feeding off of the small investors. People who trusted us. People who trusted… me.”
I squeeze his hand. “How many shares did you sell?”
His mouth presses into a thin line. “Just under a million.”
The number lands heavy.
My throat tightens. “So you went to the FBI without… telling me?”
His expression cracks. Not just guilt—devastation.
“I wanted to. God, Ash, I wanted to so bad.” He drags a hand down his face. “But I couldn’t… I couldn’t look you in the eye and tell you I’d destroyed everything. That I’d ruined our life. Failed you. Failed the boys.”
I can’t stop the tight little cry that escapes my throat. Because yes, I’m angry. But underneath that—deeper—I’m hurt.
He didn’t come to me. Instead, he’d carried all this alone.
“I went to the SEC. Took them everything I had—emails, trade history, flagged filings. I thought they were going to arrest me on the spot.”
“But they didn’t,” I whisper, still stinging. “You should’ve told me,” I say softly. “I was right there. Every day. In the same house. I was folding laundry and worrying about screen time—and you were involved in a financial crime.”
“I know. I know I should’ve.” Beckett drops his forehead to mine. “I’m so sorry,” he whispers. “God, I was so ashamed, Ash. I didn’t want to bring this mess home. To you.”
“You did anyway,” I say. No bite. Just truth.
He sees it in my eyes. “It was stupid. I know.”
And I understand. I think. “Why didn’t they arrest you?”
“They brought in the FBI. Then offered me a deal. In exchange for immunity or lesser charges, I had to work with them. Under a strict NDA. I couldn’t tell anyone.
Not you, not my dad… If I talked, it could compromise the case.
At best, make you an accessory. At worst, put you in danger.
I couldn’t turn it down, though… At that point, I didn’t have a choice. ”
My heart stutters. More understanding clicks into place.
“You’re the whistleblower,” I whisper.
He nods.
“Did you know they were going to arrest you?” My voice trembles now. “In front of the boys?”
“No,” he says fiercely. “I swear to you. I had no idea. They did it to protect me—to protect all of us—until all the suspects were in custody. It had to look real. Like I was just another one of them.”
Images flash—handcuffs, shouting, Max’s face, Blakey crying.
“That was…” My voice breaks. “That was one of the worst days of my life. I think—” I suck in a breath. “Right up there with the day Dad died.”
The words surprise me as much as him.
Silent tears slip down my cheeks. He sees them instantly, panic flashing across his face.
“Ash,” he whispers, crushed. He pulls me onto his lap and I fold into him.
“I’m so sorry,” he murmurs into my hair. “I wanted to tell you. God, I wanted to. Every day.”
I cling to him, grounding myself.
And… I think. We can work with this.
After a moment, I pull back just enough to look at him.
“So… what now?”
“Six other advisors have flipped,” he says quietly. “That takes the target off my back. So, I can go home.”
“Home?”
“If you’ll have me,” he adds. “I’m unemployed. Banned from trading. I’m not exactly a safe bet anymore.”
Something in his voice—raw, stripped bare—splits me open.
“But you love me,” I say, both a question and not.
His eyes widen.
“Always,” he says without hesitation. “God, Ash. I never stopped.”
I lift my hand and cradle his jaw. “Then you’re still the best bet I’ve ever made.”
He exhales like he’s been holding his breath for a year, the tension finally draining from his shoulders, his arms locked around me.
“No more secrets?” I whisper.
“None,” he says, pressing a kiss into my hair. “Never again.”
I look up at him, exhausted and steady all at once. “Let’s go home.” And then, “Beckett?
“I never stopped loving you, either.”