Chapter 24 Forever
Mason Reed sat on the rooftop terrace of The Regal Haven, the cigarette between his fingers nearly burned to a stub. Beyond the railing, the ocean shimmered under the sun, gulls wheeled overhead, and white sails dotted the horizon—a postcard-perfect view.
His phone buzzed on the table. A bank alert: three thousand dollars transferred.
Jasper White and Chase Ye exchanged a glance, and Jasper let out a loud, goofy laugh. "Third Master, you've got it made! Your wife's not just a looker—she's shelling out cash for you too! Ha!"
"First time living off a woman's dime, huh?" Jasper teased. "How's it feel? Pretty sweet, right?"
Mason shot him a sideways glare, sliding the phone back into place without a word. His face stayed blank, but a quiet warmth rippled through him.
He hadn't expected Clara Bennett to actually send the money. He'd done the math—three grand was all she had left in her account.
He stubbed the cigarette into the ashtray, grinding it out, and stared into the distance. A flicker of something complicated—soft, heavy—passed over his features.
"By the way, Third Master," Chase said, lowering his voice, "Jasper couldn't poke around without raising flags, so I looked into Rainbow Trade Co. myself. Stacy Chen's a mid-level supervisor—leans hard on her uncle being a shareholder, acts like she owns the place. And she's..."
He hesitated, weighing whether to drop the rest.
Mason's eyes darkened. "Spit it out."
"She's Jason Ford's girlfriend," Chase said reluctantly. "And Jason? He's Clara's department head—her old college senior. Chased her back in the day."
He glanced at Mason. The man's face was a slab of ice, but his hand on the table clenched into a fist.
Chase coughed lightly. "Third Master, it's ancient history. No big deal."
"Hm," Mason said, lifting his gaze. "Did I say anything?"
Chase chuckled under his breath. No, he hadn't said a word—but the silence spoke volumes.
"Go on," Mason prompted.
"Stacy's been gunning for Clara at work," Chase continued. "That's why she didn't close a single deal her first month."
Mason's expression grew stormier.
"Easy fix!" Jasper cut in, waving a hand. "Third Master, want me to take care of this Stacy chick? I'll handle that Jason guy too while I'm at it!"
Chase coughed harder, shooting Jasper a look that screamed hopeless.
"No need," Mason said, his voice sharp and cold. "It's small-time nonsense. Stirring up trouble in a place like that just draws eyes. Let Clara deal with it herself. Leave her be."
"Right," Chase nodded, catching the drift. "Third Master's got a point. No sense wasting energy on Stacy and Jason. Worst case, Clara quits. It's not like you can't support her."
Mason grunted in agreement, pouring himself a coffee. He went quiet, then his eyes flickered with something deeper. "Clara's out chasing leads today," he said flatly, standing and heading for the stairs.
Jasper gawked at his retreating back, slack-jawed, while Chase—ever the sharp one—caught the subtext instantly.
"What's that about?" Jasper muttered, mouth still hanging open. "Third Master's so damn cryptic—it's infuriating!"
Chase smirked, reaching over to nudge Jasper's jaw shut. "Get moving and find out."
"Find out what?"
"Where Clara's running her sales calls today, you blockhead!"
Jasper blinked, confused. "Didn't he just say to leave her be?"
Chase rolled his eyes so hard they nearly fell out. Talking to this guy was like pulling teeth.
Back home, Mason stepped inside. Clara wasn't back yet. He checked his watch—she still had a couple hours before she'd clock out.
He glanced around. Despite her crazy work schedule, the place was spotless—windows gleaming, kitchen tidy, everything in its place. A faint smile tugged at his lips. She was stretched thin, yet she kept it all together without a single complaint, still footing the bills.
She'd meant it, then. All that talk about sticking with him for the long haul.
Forever...
Could he really give her that?
Mason's brow creased, a knot forming as he stood there, lost in thought. Then he shook it off and headed for the bathroom.
Forever or not, he'd focus on the now. Clara had said this home belonged to both of them—that he should pitch in as her husband. He chuckled to himself, spotting the laundry basket. A pile of dirty clothes from the last few days sat untouched.
He'd wash them, he decided. She'd come home to a clean load and a smile—worth it.
Mason dumped the basket out with quick, practiced moves. But then something small and white caught his eye, tumbling out among the shirts...