Chapter 68
Sixty-Eight
C ooper
“If you love her, let her go, and if she really loves you, she’ll come back.”
That right there is the shit advice my father gave to me when I went to him, begging not to go through with our plan.
At first, he told me it couldn’t be undone, then he said that garbage about letting her go, and finally he realized I was dead serious about making Sybil my wife one day.
He told me not to worry. He claimed he would handle it.
I should’ve fucking worried.
I ache to follow Sybil home, demand we work things out, but I respect her enough to give her the time she’s asked for.
She’ll come back, right? I don’t even want to think about what it will feel like to lose her again. The idea of it is soul-crushing.
I head to Arden and Ethan’s penthouse and fill them in.
They take it as well as can be expected.
It’s not every day you find out your mother never actually had an affair, and it’s certainly not every day you learn you were a pawn in a large blackmail scheme because your uncle who was actually your father was willing to go to great lengths to hide your existence.
Ethan and Arden are pros at handling the drama, which makes sense given their history. I shouldn’t be surprised they don’t let this news rattle them.
“So you’re pretty pissed at Dad right now, huh?” Ethan asks.
“Obviously,” I drawl. “He fucked me over. I confronted him as soon as I found out what went down, and he said he was already too far down the path with Vale.”
“Do you think your dad would be willing to make some changes to make it up to you?” Arden asks, and Ethan gives her the side-eye.
“Probably… Do you have something in mind?”
She locks eyes with Ethan, who shakes his head. “They’ll never go for it.”
“Go for what?”
Arden lifts a shoulder. “It can’t hurt to ask.”
“Have you met our father?”
“Want to clue me in?” I say, waving my hand for attention.
Ethan sighs. “I’m pretty unhappy with my career. I want to pursue something else without losing access to the trust fund.”
I blink. Is he for real? “You don’t want to be CEO of King Media?”
Ethan shakes his head. “I think you’d be better at it. You actually like the job.”
I mean, it’s true that I love our work, but I had no idea Ethan felt differently.
“What other career are you wanting to pursue?” It’s hard to wrap my mind around him doing something else. This has been the plan since birth.
His cheeks go pink, and I swear my jaw actually drops. When I have ever seen my confident and broody brother ever look so sheepish?
Arden’s smile is beaming. “You can tell him.”
“I was thinking medicine. Maybe oncology. I couldn’t save Mom, but maybe I could save someone like her, ya know?”
“That’s amazing, Ethan. We should talk to Dad about it, for sure.”
They both visibly brighten, and even though getting our father on board might be next to impossible, this feels like it’s going to happen.
We end up eating Chinese takeout at their place, and then I slip over to my penthouse next door. It’s getting dark, and I should be exhausted after the day I’ve had, but I’m buzzing with energy and end up pacing the length of my family room, my mind whirling with thoughts of Sybil.
It’s only been half a day, but I miss her already. I want her here with me. I want to kiss her and hold her and be secure in the knowledge that she loves me as much as I love her.
Something tickles the back of my mind—an itch I can’t seem to scratch. I feel like there’s something I’m missing.
Something important.
I veer toward my office, sliding into my chair and loading up my computer. It’s strange being home in my penthouse after it was taken over by Top of the World, even stranger seeing my house on national television every week.
All my things have returned to their rightful places, but I feel like a completely different person. I recognize this house, but the man I was six months ago is unrecognizable.
My private investigator sent me a massive document about Lance Vale, complete with the numerous files Lance kept on people, and I load it onto my computer screen.
I have no doubt I’ll have many demands to delete any possible blackmail fodder I could have over board members.
I’m more than happy to do that. Never have I, and never will I, operate like Lance Vale.
I scroll through the endless documents, my mind quickly categorizing everything, searching for something still unknown.
I’m missing something. I know I’m missing something.
Then I see it.
My mouth goes dry, my heart races, and my stomach completely flips. How could I be so stupid? I cannot believe I didn’t see this before, didn’t realize the obvious.
Fuck!
I jump from my desk, not even bothering to turn off my computer, and sprint out of the penthouse, texting Sybil as I ride the elevator downstairs.
Cooper: Are you okay? I need to know you’re okay. There’s something we need to discuss asap.
The text returns as green instead of blue, indicating she’s still got my number blocked.
There’s not a lot of traffic tonight, and it only takes ten minutes to drive to her loft in SoHo. I bribe her doorman to call her down to talk to me.
She’s not home.
Double fuck.
I pace outside her building, my mind racing in a million different directions, picturing every worst-case scenario. I need help— she might need help. I yank out my phone, about to call Arden to see if she can get in touch with Sybil on my behalf, when a text pings through from an unknown number.
Unknown: You really think I would let you ruin everything I’ve worked for?
The moment I read it, I clock what this is: a threat. Another message quickly follows with a location. It’s a private residence, not far from the city.
I jump into my car and race to the location. On the way, another text comes through from the same number.
Unknown: Don’t inform anyone where you are if you care about Sybil’s life.
At the next red light, I quickly respond.
Cooper: I won’t, and I’m on my way.
I screenshot the text and send it to my father and Ethan, along with a message.
Cooper: Sybil’s in trouble. I’m on my way to help her. If you don’t hear from me in half an hour, then send the police.
I put my phone on do-not-disturb after that.
They’ll try to talk logic into me, and this doesn’t call for logic—it calls for action.
At least I thought to bring my handgun before I left the penthouse.
I never thought I’d have to use this thing, but after Sybil got attacked by that creep, I renewed my license and have been bringing it when we’re in public.
Not to mention, I haven’t been letting her out of sight when we’re not at work.
Except I did let her out of my sight, and now she’s in trouble.
I arrive at a grand home surrounded by a large wall and a gated entrance. A security guard lets me through, and I race up the driveway, parking and shoving my gun under my belt.
I step out, and a second security guard approaches. The first one looked more like a rent-a-cop, but this one has some serious military energy. “I’m going to pat you down for weapons, so if you’ve got something, better remove it now. Also, you’re going to need to leave your phone with me.”
With a frustrated sigh, I remove the gun and hand it over with my phone, hoping he doesn’t notice how badly my hands are shaking. If something happens to Sybil, I’ll never forgive myself.
“Mr. Vale will see you now.”
I should’ve known I was dealing with a dangerous man when Sybil got attacked at the premier. The whole thing was planned. He wanted to hurt her then, and my gut says he intends to hurt her again.