Chapter Thirty-Seven Alex
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
ALEX
It’s time.
Kane tips his head, signaling to me. I nod and force my attention back to the crowd.
Rolling my shoulders, I lock my hands in front of me and wait for Dear Ole Dad to finally come to the end of his speech.
It’s been well over twenty minutes, and a new record.
It doesn’t surprise me; he loves to hear himself talk.
“As always, we’re proud of all our teams, more specifically, our hockey players.”
Gee, I wonder why?
“Every season they prove why SKU is the best in the nation, and I can’t be more elated that my only son—”
And there it is. He doesn’t care about this team. Only the extension of his image.
I dart my eyes to Kane, giving him a tight-lipped pointed stare.
He knows just like I do that this is all an act.
Kane squares his shoulders, his jaw visibly clenched.
My father places a hand on my shoulder, forcing me to look in his direction.
He smiles, patting my back with more care than I’ve ever received from him.
“Alexander Williamsburg—he’s named after my great-great-great-grandfather in case you didn’t know,” he says jokingly and the crowd laughs.
“He was a pioneer of a man that paved the way for the Sovereign King’s University that we have today.
He was an idol and we”—he glances to my mother, taking her hand in his free one—“couldn’t be more honored to have named this kid after him.
Son, you’ve made your mother and me proud.
You’ve led this team to victories many times over, following in your ancestor’s footsteps in a way that would make him proud. ”
Ancestor? I huff. You mean the angry old bastard that hated everyone. Yeah, I’m so grateful to share a name with that asshole.
“I think everyone in the room would agree that we will be rooting for you as you make your transition into the NHL.”
The room erupts in applause, and I give a curt nod, lips pressed into a thin line. I wave, but it’s stiff and fake, just like this father-son dynamic he’s trying to paint.
As soon as the moment passes, I climb down from the makeshift stage. I maneuver through the crowd, being stopped along the way.
“Alex,” Mr. Sheffield, one of my father’s business partners, says, taking my hand in his. “You know your father’s right. You’ve been a damn good captain.”
I squeeze his hand, giving him a firm shake. “Appreciate the recognition.”
“Of course. Any idea who you think will draft you?”
I shake my head. “I’ll just be honored to continue to play.”
It’s the truth. Anywhere I can do exactly what my mother wants for me. I can make a name for myself and finally get out from under my father’s shadow.
“It was nice seeing you. I’m going to go speak with some of my teammates.” No sooner than the words leave my mouth, I’m off in Kane’s direction. He’s holding two tumblers of brown liquor, and I take one as soon as I’m within arm’s reach.
“Figured you’d need it after suffering through that.”
I huff. “Yeah. He’s fake as shit.” I bring the tumbler to my lips and down the shot.
Kane does the same. When I look back at him, I finally take him in, somewhat surprised.
“Hmph,” I mutter and set my empty glass on the tray of a passing server.
“Why are you looking at me like that?”
“No. Nothing. Just you look good, bro.”
Kane scoffs. “Fuck off.”
“No, seriously. The turtleneck looks good,” I tease. “It really hugs your muscles. The chain’s a nice touch, too.”
Kane laughs. “Whatever, jerk. Could you have found a tighter button-up?”
For the first time tonight, I let out a smirk. “Where’s everyone?”
We glance around.
“Gracie’s right—” Kane points to our left, but we don’t see Gracie. “She was right over there.”
“Mm? Mountain and Sam?”
“Haven’t seen them.”
I frown at that and pull my phone from my inside vest pocket. Unlocking my phone with face recognition, I scroll to our group chat and key in a message.
Alex: We need to do this now while my father is making his rounds.
Shoving the phone into my back pocket, I tap Kane’s shoulder with the back of my hand. “Come on.”
With a quick peek over my shoulder, I walk around Kane and toward the hall. Kane looks around then follows behind me. Quickly, we move down the hall, nerves rattling through us. If things don’t go according to plan, we’re fucked.
Nothing is going to happen to me, but if my father catches on, he won’t spare them.
He’ll know that I know he’s a fraud, and he’ll make them pay for daring to challenge him.
But something tells me that it’s Sam he’ll go after the most. She’s the common denominator in all of this—the reason we even know that he’s got some shady dealings.
Plus, he’d focus on her just because she means something to me.
When we reach the end of the hall, we make a left away from the guest bathrooms and library. Taking the winding staircase two at a time, we climb to the second floor. The noise from the party fades out to nothing more than a low hum.
No one’s allowed past the ground floor except staff, so we should be fine. As long as we can get what we need before my father realizes we’re missing, we’ll get away with it.
Taking out my phone again, I check for a reply.
Nothing.
“Where the fuck are they?” I say aggravatedly.
Punching in a text, I mash send.
Alex: We’re on the second floor. Third room at the left.
“Fuck. If we don’t want to get caught, we need to do this now.”
Just then, Sam and Mountain come rushing up the stairs, breathless.
“We’re here,” Sam whispers.
“There you go. Where the hell have y’all been?” Kane quizzes.
My gaze narrows to them, taking in their very disheveled appearances. Sam’s lips are bare, despite being painted red when she arrived, and swollen like she’s just been kissed. Mountain’s hair is slightly ruffled, opposed to how meticulously combed it was earlier. Mountain catches me looking.
I huff and shake my head. We’re on a time crunch and these two found time to bang. Rich.
“Where’s Gracie?” Sam asks when she doesn’t see her roommate.
Kane shrugs. “Don’t know. Hopefully she’s in position at the party to let me know when anyone leaves. Y’all go ahead, I’ll keep watch here.” He keys something in his phone, probably typing in the safe word just so he doesn’t have to waste time trying to type a message if we’re going to get caught.
We nod and take off with me leading the charge.
Sam is on my heels with Mountain only feet behind her.
Approaching my father’s office, I punch in the code to disengage the lock: the date my great-great-great-grandfather migrated to this country.
His obsession with legacy should be studied.
The lock releases and I push inside. We immediately turn on our flashlights and close the door behind us.
Mountain stays close to the door, peeking out every so often to ensure no one is nearby.
“Sam, check those cabinets over there. Look for anything that looks like it matches the name of the club, initials, names. Anything.”
Setting her clutch on the desk, Sam rushes to the cabinet and crouches down to eye level. “It needs a code.”
I let out a breath and jog over to her. After inputting the code, it opens. I smirk. For a man with several masters and a doctorate, he isn’t very smart. But I’ve also been breaking into his shit since I was a kid.
“Thanks,” Sam whispers and reaches for the drawer.
I place my hand on top of hers, drawing her eyes to mine. “I hope he made you cum.”
Sam’s eyes go wide, and I can’t stop the grin from forming. She’s cute when she’s flustered. I point my eyes to the wet spot on the front of Mountain’s slacks.
Sam’s cheeks grow flushed as she hides her face in her palm. “Oh my God.”
I smirk then stand and return to my father’s desk.
Sam searches through the files, taking pictures of anything she finds, while I work on getting into his computer. At least he was smart enough to use a different password this time, but I eventually figure it out—a combination of my and my mother’s birthdates.
The screen loads up, and an image of our family as the wallpaper stares back at me. I was about eight here, standing in front of an NHL arena. That was my first game, and the day I decided I wanted to play hockey.
I shake away the thoughts and click through his folders.
Everything is systematically labeled, from business files, pictures, and other important stuff like his will and life insurance policies.
All standard things, and nothing suspicious.
Until I move the cursor over the screen and an icon lights up.
At first glance there’s nothing there, but with the mouse directly on it, I can see the folder.
It’s hidden, damn near invisible. The sneaky bastard used the section of the background photo as the icon image so that it blends in perfectly.
Only he would know that it’s there. It isn’t labeled, just a discreet little square that fits like a puzzle piece. Smart.
I click on it. Encrypted.
I stare at the screen, something telling me that this password wouldn’t be like the others.
It would be something no one but him would ever guess.
My eyes fall on different parts of the room in search of anything of significance.
Then my gaze falls to the framed photo on his desk.
It’s him and members of his graduating class, Mr. Kincaid, Senator Martinez, Mr. Sheffield, and several others.
I type in the year he graduated. Incorrect.
Then I try the day and month he graduated, and file after file floods the screen, sending a flash of light through the room.
“Bingo.” I flop down in the chair and scan the screen for anything that stands out.
There are more neatly categorized folders, seemingly organized by class year. When I find 2005 among the list, I hesitate for a beat, then open it. More folders glare at me, this time with names instead of dates. In the first row, a name stands out.
Collins, Miranda.
“Got it,” I beam.
“Good because I’m not finding much over here,” Sam says, still crouching low.
“Shh,” Mountain orders and gently closes the door, leaving it cracked just enough for him to peek out. “Okay, false alarm.”
We turn our lights back on and I remove the thumb drive I stuffed in the pocket of my slacks.
I insert the device into the USB port and wait for it to register.
As it does that, I click back out of that folder and skim over the others.
Deciding to search for keywords instead of scrolling through every item, I key in the name and wait to see what pulls up.
Aurelian.
Files began to isolate, several documents labeled only by two letters and a date.
Initials.
I find one with SC and click the first one I see.
SC01252025.
A bank statement loads, and it matches the date and amount of what I found on his work computer. We definitely got it. Satisfied, I copy the folder and am about to exit it when another pair of initials catches my attention.
EK.
Several of them. All one month apart dating back years. I open the first one dated last week. The transaction details stare me in the face.
ACH Withdrawal Everest
Kane..………………-$10,000
A numbness pricks at my skin, and suddenly it’s hot in here.
I open another.
EK03032025—ACH Withdrawal Everest
Kane..………………-$10,000
And another…
EK02032025—ACH Withdrawal Everest
Kane..………………-$10,000
On the third of every month like clockwork, there’s a bank transfer in Kane’s name.
“What the actual fuck?” I murmur.