Chapter 20 #2
I shot Charlie a glare that should have set him on fire.
I hadn’t wanted our parents to know—not yet, not until Tate’s financial advisor had reviewed everything and we had a proper contract in place.
I’d spoken impulsively at dinner, letting my anger override my judgment, and now I was paying the price.
I took a deep breath, forcing myself to stay calm. “It’s true. I’ve been in discussions with someone interested in funding my business.”
My parents exchanged one of their loaded looks—the kind that contained entire conversations I wasn’t privy to.
“And you didn’t think to mention this to us?” Mom’s voice was sharp with disapproval. “We’re your parents, Stella. We have a right to know when you’re making major financial decisions.”
I stiffened at the insinuation that I needed their permission, or approval, for anything. “It’s not finalized yet. I was waiting until—”
“Until what?” Dad cut in. “Until you’d already signed away God knows what to some stranger? Do you have any idea how these arrangements can go wrong? How many young people get taken advantage of by predatory investors who promise the world and deliver nothing but debt and disappointment?”
Frustration and anger tightened in my chest. “He’s not like that—”
“You don’t know that.” Dad set down his glass with a sharp clink.
“You’re young and inexperienced, and now you have some mysterious investor willing to hand you money?
” Dad’s eyes narrowed. “Where did you even find this person? Oliver doesn’t have that kind of capital, and his salary certainly wouldn’t cover a business startup. ”
“It’s not Oliver.”
“Then who?” Dad pressed. “Who did you approach? How did you meet them?”
The questions came rapid-fire, each one more demanding than the last. I felt cornered, trapped between the truth I couldn’t tell and the lies I didn’t want to maintain.
“That’s my business,” I finally said. “I’m an adult. I’m allowed to make my own decisions.”
Dad’s jaw tightened. “Not when those decisions could damage this family’s reputation. Not when you’re clearly being naive about—” He stopped abruptly, a new thought occurring to him. “Tate. Could you join us for a moment?”
My stomach dropped.
Tate appeared in the doorway almost immediately from the study and I had no doubt that he’d heard the entire conversation. His expression was carefully neutral, but I could see the tension in his shoulders, the wariness in his eyes.
“What can I do for you, Mr. Hayward.”
“You’ve been monitoring everyone Stella interacts with as part of this investigation, correct?” my father asked him. “Her communications, her contacts?”
Very reluctantly, Tate replied. “Yes, sir.”
“Including any online correspondence? Phone calls?”
Tate’s jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. “Yes.”
“Then I’d like to see that list. I want to know who this investor is.”
Tate’s eyebrows rose. “May I ask why?”
Dad’s eyes went cold. “That’s not your concern.”
For a long moment, no one moved. I shook my head minutely, desperately trying to signal Tate to stay quiet, to let this go, to protect himself even if it meant throwing me to the wolves.
He ignored me completely.
“You don’t need a list,” Tate said, his voice steady. “I’m the investor.”
The silence that followed was deafening.
Mom looked like she’d witnessed something profoundly indecent. “I beg your pardon?”
“I’ve offered to provide Stella with the startup capital she needs to launch her business.” Tate’s tone was matter-of-fact, utterly unruffled by the horror radiating from both my parents. “I’ve reviewed her business plan, and I believe it’s a sound investment.”
“Just who do you think you are?” Mom’s voice had gone shrill. “You’re here to protect our daughter, not to—to meddle in her affairs.”
Tate stared at my mother head-on. “With respect, ma’am, I’m someone with capital to invest who recognizes a solid opportunity when I see one.
Your daughter has built a significant following.
She has a waitlist of clients. Her designs are in demand and her business plan is thorough and well-researched.
The only thing she lacks is funding and that’s a problem I’m in a position to solve. ”
Dad stepped forward, his courtroom presence fully engaged. “You realize this is a gross violation of your professional relationship with my daughter.”
“Only if money had already changed hands,” Tate replied calmly.
“Which it hasn’t. No contracts have been signed.
No funds have been transferred. Everything has been conducted appropriately,” he said, which was the truth since we’d both agreed that nothing would happen business-wise until he was no longer working for the family.
I watched Tate with something like awe. He was standing his ground against my father—Charles Hayward, who made witnesses crumble on the stand, who had reduced opposing counsel to stammering wrecks. And Tate wasn’t flinching.
“Do you honestly think that technicality will hold up with your employer?” Dad’s voice was dangerous now, a weapon honed by decades of courtroom battles.
Tate stood firm. “You’re welcome to find out.”
Dad’s expression flickered—surprise, maybe, at meeting someone who didn’t immediately capitulate. Then his jaw hardened with the kind of resolve I knew wouldn’t bode well for Tate.
“I’m sorry,” I said quietly, looking at Tate. This was a disaster, and the anger was being directed at him when he’d done nothing but try to help me. “I shouldn’t have said anything. I was upset, and I spoke without thinking.”
“You should be sorry,” Mom cut in furiously. “Keeping secrets from your own family. Going behind our backs—”
“I wasn’t talking to you,” I snapped.
The room went very still.
“Nevertheless,” Dad said, his attention still fixed on Tate, “this represents an unacceptable breach of the professional boundaries that should exist between a security operative and his client. I’ll be contacting your superior immediately and requesting your removal from my daughter’s detail.”
My panic was instant and overwhelming. Losing Tate. Not seeing him every day. Not having him nearby, keeping me safe, making me feel like I mattered. “Dad, no—”
Dad turned his glare on me, and the accusation in his eyes was clear: This is your own fault.
“You brought this on yourself,” he said coldly. “Manipulating this man, using your—your feminine wiles to convince him to fund your little project. You should be ashamed.”
Something hot and furious rose in my chest, but before I could respond, Tate spoke.
“With respect, sir, your daughter’s appearance had nothing to do with my decision.
” His voice was ice. “I’m investing because she’s talented.
Because she’s built something real through years of hard work while receiving nothing but dismissal from the people who should support her most. Because she has a six-figure following of people eager to buy her designs, a waitlist of clients, and a business plan more thorough than most.” He paused, letting the words land.
“I invested because it’s a smart financial decision.
The fact that your daughter happens to be exceptional is simply a bonus. ”
Mom looked like she’d bitten into something sour. I wanted to kiss Tate so badly I could hardly breathe.
Dad’s expression remained stony, unmoved. “I’m calling your employer. Now.” He pulled out his phone, already scrolling for the number.
I couldn’t believe it had come to this. That my parents were reacting with such venom to someone trying to help me succeed.
The anger was choking me, but beneath it lurked something worse: guilt. I’d put Tate in this position. My impulsive words at dinner, my inability to keep my mouth shut when Charlie provoked me—it might cost Tate his job.
I couldn’t stand there and watch it happen.
I left the room without another word, climbing the stairs to my bedroom and closing the door behind. Then I sank onto the edge of my bed and pressed my palms against my eyes, trying to breathe through the tightness in my chest.
What a fucking disaster.
* * *
The knock came maybe ten minutes later—soft, barely audible.
I opened the door to find Tate standing in the hallway, his expression unreadable, his posture reserved.
“I’m packing up my things and I’m heading out,” he said quietly, confirming my fears.
“But I wanted you to know that Xavier is taking over. You’ll be well protected until this threat is resolved. ”
My throat constricted painfully. “I wish you weren’t leaving. I shouldn’t have said anything at dinner. Charlie was being insufferable, and I let him get to me, and now—”
“You weren’t being respected.” Tate’s voice was gentle but firm. “It’s hard to keep your composure when you’re facing that kind of dismissal day after day. Don’t blame yourself for finally pushing back.”
I made a rash decision. “I want to leave with you.”
A ghost of a smile crossed his face. “That’s not the best decision, all things considered, and especially with the threat still out there.
Just hold on a little longer. Soon this whole situation will be resolved and then you can move back to your apartment, find your own place, and launch your business with my investment.
Start the life you actually want and deserve. ”
I nodded, trying to make myself believe it. But the investigation seemed like it had been dragging on forever, and Tate leaving felt like watching something precious slip through my fingers.
He must have seen the doubt in my expression, because he stepped closer, lowering his voice.
“Hey. It’s going to be okay. We’re close to cracking this.
Kane’s been helping me piece together what happened at the gala, reconstructing the timeline, identifying everyone who was near you that night.
We’re going to figure out who’s behind those photos and messages. ”
I waited for more. For some acknowledgment of what existed between us, some reassurance that once the case was closed, we would figure out us too.
It didn’t come.
He was talking about the investigation. About my safety.
About my future business and my new apartment and my independence…
without him in the picture, other than being a silent partner investment-wise.
All the practical things and nothing about nights spent tangled together in his arms. Nothing about the way he’d held me like I was something precious.
Nothing about what came next for us.
I searched his face for some sign that he was holding back, that the words were there but he couldn’t say them yet. But his expression had shifted—still warm, still caring, but guarded in a way it hadn’t been before. Like he was already putting distance between us and it hurt like hell.
Maybe this was what happened when reality intruded.
When the fantasy of stolen nights gave way to the harsh light of reality and consequences.
He’d nearly lost his job because of me. He’d been forced to defend himself against my father’s accusations.
Perhaps he’d decided I wasn’t worth the trouble after all.
My throat tightened, but I forced myself to smile. To nod. To pretend my heart wasn’t quietly shattering. “Thank you,” I managed. “For everything. For believing in me when no one else would.”
His hand came up, brushing a strand of hair from my face, his touch achingly gentle. “Just because I’m not on your detail anymore doesn’t mean I’m not in your corner.”
But the words felt like a platitude now. Something you said to soften a farewell. And the reserved look in his eyes told me everything his mouth wouldn’t say. Whatever we’d been building, whatever I’d hoped we might become—he was already letting it go.
For a moment we just stood there, the distance between us feeling like miles instead of inches. Then he stepped back, his hand falling away, his expression hardening into something professional and remote.
“Take care of yourself,” he said. “I’ll be in touch.”
And then he was gone, his footsteps fading down the hallway, leaving me alone in the doorway with nothing but an aching emptiness that spread through my chest. The house suddenly seemed so deafeningly silent, and I had never felt more alone in my entire life.