Chapter Seven
Crown
Jayla arrived at our engagement announcement twenty-three minutes late.
She claimed it wasn’t intentional.
I didn’t believe her.
More than forty reporters waited inside the ballroom of the Devereaux Grand Hotel. Every major news station had sent a camera crew. Police remained outside because my attorneys had secured a temporary agreement preventing Jayla’s arrest while evidence was reviewed.
Dorian stood beside me near the stage.
“She’s coming,” he said.
“She agreed to be here at eleven.”
“It’s eleven twenty-three.”
“I know the time.”
“You checked your watch seven times.”
“Eight.”
Dorian sighed.
The ballroom doors opened.
Jayla entered with Imani and Simone.
Everything inside me went quiet.
She wore a deep-green dress that fit her body without revealing too much. Her curls fell around her shoulders, and gold paint decorated the heels she had customized that morning.
My grandmother’s engagement ring rested on her finger.
I had offered her a selection.
She chose the smallest one.
It was still worth more than her studio.
“You’re late,” I said when she reached me.
“You’re welcome.”
“For what?”
“For arriving.”
Simone adjusted my tie.
“You both look miserable. Perfect for marriage.”
“We’re not getting married,” Jayla said.
Reporters began photographing us.
I placed my hand near her lower back without touching.
She noticed.
“You can,” she whispered.
I rested my palm lightly against her.
Her body stiffened before slowly relaxing.
“Too much?” I asked.
“No.”
“If it becomes too much, tell me.”
She searched my face.
“Why are you being nice?”
“We’re surrounded by cameras.”
“There he is.”
Dorian explained the plan one final time.
We would announce the engagement, answer three approved questions, and leave. Jayla would say we had kept the relationship private because of my family’s public profile.
Nobody would mention Bishop, Kenzie, or the archive.
“This story doesn’t explain how we met,” Jayla whispered.
“At your studio.”
“When?”
“Eight months ago.”
“What did you buy?”
“Shoes.”
“You don’t wear sneakers.”
“I own several pairs.”
“Name one brand.”
I looked at Dorian.
He walked away.
“Traitor,” I muttered.
Jayla’s mouth twitched.
The ballroom quieted as we stepped onto the stage.
Camera flashes lit the room.
I hated crowds. Too many voices. Too many movements I couldn’t predict. I focused on keeping my breathing even and my hand still.
Jayla noticed.
“You okay?” she whispered.
“Yes.”
“You’re squeezing my hand.”
I immediately released it.
She caught my fingers before I could pull away.
The contact surprised me.
She held on.
“Don’t make it weird,” she said.
The pressure in my chest eased.
Dorian introduced us.
I approached the microphone.
“Recent reports concerning Ms. Bennett are false. She was not abducted from her studio. Jayla is my fiancée and has been under my family’s protection since a threat was made against us.”
The room erupted with questions.
I ignored all but the reporter Dorian selected.
“When did the two of you become engaged?”
“Last night,” Jayla answered.
That was technically true.
“How long have you been together?”
“Long enough for me to know he doesn’t understand basic communication,” she said.
Laughter moved through the ballroom.
I looked at her.
She smiled innocently.
Another reporter stood.
“Mr. Devereaux has a reputation for being extremely private. What attracted you to him?”
Jayla hesitated.
I expected another joke.
Instead, she looked at me.
“He pays attention,” she said. “Even when you think he isn’t listening.”
Her answer struck closer than it should have.
The third question came from Berkeley James, a journalist known for investigating political corruption.
“Ms. Bennett, were you aware your grandmother worked for the Devereaux family?”
“No.”
“Do you believe her employment is connected to the attack on your studio?”
Dorian stepped toward the microphone.
“No questions concerning the ongoing investigation.”
Berkeley continued anyway.
“Mr. Devereaux, did Evelyn Bennett possess evidence concerning your father’s death?”
Jayla’s hand tightened around mine.
“No comment,” I said.
“Is it true your cousin Julian has accused Ms. Bennett of stealing protected family records?”
I found Julian standing near the back of the ballroom.
He wore a dark suit and the same smug expression he had possessed since childhood.
This had his fingerprints on it.
The questions became louder.
I guided Jayla away from the stage.
She waited until we entered the private hallway before pulling her hand from mine.
“You said you would tell me everything.”
“I didn’t know Julian planned to make that accusation.”
“Who is he?”
“My uncle’s son.”
“The uncle you believe betrayed your father?”
“Yes.”
“And now his son is coming after me?”
“He wants my position.”
“Why would attacking me help him?”
“Because you’re standing beside me.”
She rubbed her arms.
A crowd of reporters remained outside the hotel’s private entrance. Leaving separately would only create more questions.
“We need one photograph outside,” Dorian said.
“We just gave them fifty,” Jayla replied.
“They need something that sells the engagement.”
“What does that mean?”
Dorian looked at me.
Jayla followed his gaze.
“No.”
“It could be a kiss on the cheek,” Dorian offered.
“No.”
“Forehead?”
“No.”
“We can hold hands,” I said.
“We already did that.”
“Then we’re finished.”
Dorian appeared relieved.
My phone vibrated.
Micah had unlocked the first layer of the key.
I read his message.
The archive requires a second physical component. It’s registered to Evelyn Bennett. We also found a scheduled upload. Bishop plans to release part of the files at midnight.
Another message appeared.
And Julian just called an emergency board meeting. He’s moving against you.
I put the phone away.
“What happened?” Jayla asked.
“Nothing we can discuss here.”
Her expression hardened.
“You promised me everything.”
“Bishop is releasing part of the archive tonight.”
“What happens when he does?”
“People named inside it will begin killing one another before the rest can be exposed.”
“And the second component?”
I looked at her.
“It belonged to your grandmother.”
“My mother may have it.”
“Possibly.”
“Then we need to find her.”
“We will.”
Jayla’s phone chimed.
She removed it from her purse.
A message had arrived from an unknown number.
Her face lost all color.
“What is it?”
She turned the screen toward me.
A photograph showed Kenzie sitting inside an unfamiliar room. Her hands were tied, but she appeared alive.
The message beneath it read:
I never meant for this to happen. Crown is lying to you. Evelyn Bennett didn’t die from cancer. Ask him what his father did to your grandmother.
Jayla slowly lowered the phone.
“Is that true?”
“I don’t know.”
“Wrong answer.”
She backed away from me.
“You knew my grandmother was connected to your father.”
“Yes.”
“You knew there was more.”
“I knew there were sealed records.”
“What did your father do to her?”
“I said I don’t know.”
“And I don’t believe you.”
She removed my grandmother’s ring from her finger and pressed it into my hand.
“The engagement is over.”
She turned toward the exit.
I caught myself before touching her.
“Jayla.”
She stopped but didn’t face me.
“Going outside alone is not safe.”
“Then follow me.”
Her voice broke.
“But don’t touch me, don’t call me your fiancée, and don’t lie to me again.”
I followed her through the doors.
Camera flashes exploded around us as she walked several feet ahead of me without her engagement ring.
By the time we reached the car, photographs of our public breakup were already spreading online.
Bishop had accomplished exactly what he wanted.
He had placed Jayla beside me, taught her to doubt me, and then given her a reason to run.
The problem for Bishop was simple.
Jayla Bennett might no longer believe she belonged under my protection.
But I had no intention of letting him take her.