Chapter 9
JADE
The dining hall is large enough to house a village. A table of polished walnut stretches through the center, flanked by chairs so heavy I need both hands to pull mine out.
Parker sits to my left. Between the giant oil paintings and the glittering silver, he looks lost, but he’s holding his own. He stares at the three different forks as if they were surgical instruments.
At the head of the table, five meters away, sits Cayden. He’s dimmed the lights. Only a few candles and indirect ceiling lights cast shadows across his face, making his features look harder, more unreachable. He’s wearing a simple black shirt now, sleeves rolled up.
“The meat is Wagyu, Parker,” Cayden says without looking up. He slices his steak with the precision of a pathologist. “The cows are massaged and fed beer. A lot of effort for a bit of protein, don’t you think?”
Parker jabs a fork into his steak. “Taste like normal meat. Just softer.”
Cayden lets out a dry, short laugh. “Honesty. A rare currency in this house. Enjoy it while you still don’t know how to lie to get what you want.”
My stomach tightens. “Not everyone lies out of calculation, Cayden. Some do it to survive.”
He sets his knife down. The soft click on the porcelain sounds like a whip crack in the silence.
He looks at me, his eyes nearly black in this light.
“Survive. That’s your favorite word, isn't it, Jade? You sell yourself as the working-class hero fighting through the mud while you sit here eating my steak.”
“I’m here because you forced me,” I counter, dropping my fork. My appetite is gone anyway. “I could have done this interview in a diner. Over fries and burgers instead of silver and Wagyu.”
“A diner?” Cayden smirks. “No privacy there. And I have a feeling we’ll need plenty of privacy to survive the next thirty days. Especially if you plan on lecturing me about my ingratitude.”
Parker looks between us. He feels the tension vibrating across the table. “Why are you fighting?”
“We aren't fighting, Parker,” Cayden says, his voice dropping a notch as he looks at the boy. “We’re just negotiating reality. Your mother has a very... interesting idea of who I am.”
“I have a very precise idea of who you are,” I snap back. “I read the gossip columns, Cayden. I see the photos from Miami and the rotating dates at the Toronto galas. You’re the prototype of the lost son drowning his pain in excess.”
Cayden freezes. The amusement vanishes. He leans forward, candlelight reflecting in his pupils. “You read too much trash, Jade. You think a few photos of me with an actress say anything about who I am? That’s marketing. That’s the facade people want to see.”
“And what’s underneath?” I ask softly. “Why did you cut Hailey and your parents out so consistently? Why weren't you there when your father was in the hospital last year?”
“I paid the bills!” he snaps. He doesn't yell, but the intensity is physical. “I made sure he had the best surgeons. My friend Beckett is one of the top doctors in the country; I had him lead the surgery. I funded the home in Thunder Bay—it looks like a resort now. What more do you want? For me to hold hands and pretend I’m the nice neighbor boy I never was?”
“Maybe they would have valued your presence more than your money.”
“Money is the only thing I have to give without disappointing anyone,” he says so quietly I have to lean in.
For a moment, he looks broken before he cinches the mask back tight.
“Children, for example. They're something I never wanted.
Unpredictable variables. They demand an attention I can't give. They make you soft. And in my position, softness is a death sentence.”
He looks at Parker, almost as if trying to convince himself the boy isn't a threat. “Nothing against you, Parker. You’re a smart kid. But most people have children to fill a void they don't understand. I have my empire to fill that void. It’s more honest.”
Parker stares at him. “Is the empire fun? I mean, when you live in it alone?”
Cayden blinks. He seems to have no answer. He reaches for his water and takes a deep drink. “It’s... quiet, Parker. Quiet is a luxury you only appreciate when the whole world is screaming your name.”
I look at him, and for the first time, I don't see the billionaire. I see the man barricaded behind these walls. He’s afraid. Not of Hayes or the deal. He’s afraid someone will see the cracks in his foundation. The cracks made of parties, pills, and the self-loathing Hailey only hinted at.
“I need to put Parker to bed,” I say, standing up. “Tomorrow is a long day.”
“Henry will drive him to school at seven-thirty,” Cayden says, fully controlled again. “And you, Jade... you’ll accompany me to the meeting with the investors. Wear something inconspicuous. I don’t want them thinking I’ve acquired a new mistress. It would distract from business.”
“Don’t worry,” I reply coldly. “No one would mistake us for a couple. For that, they’d have to be able to find a heartbeat in you.”
I take Parker’s hand and leave. The click of my heels on the marble punctuates my escape. As we climb the stairs, I feel Cayden’s gaze on my back like a burn. He hasn't moved. He sits there at the end of that ridiculously long table, a lonely king in a hollow realm.
Once Parker is tucked in, I sit by my window, looking down at the dark lake. Its surface is as smooth and black as Cayden’s soul.
He doesn't want children. He sees Parker as a "variable," a risk. God, if he knew how big that risk really was. If he knew the boy whose honesty just rattled him was his own flesh and blood.
I close my eyes. I’m here to write a profile on a man who thinks he’s in control, while he’s actually sitting on an avalanche I could trigger at any moment. As long as I keep this secret, I have the power. Even if it feels like the weight of it is crushing me.