Chapter Thirty-One Reese
Thirty-One
Reese
“Are you WildTrailGuide?”
Reese stared at Grace. At her wide eyes. Her shocked face.
“You’re—” His brain was scrambling. Catching up. “You’re AutumnDreams87?”
She nodded.
His mind raced. Tried to make sense of it. The timing. The coincidences. How AutumnDreams87 had appeared on the subreddit right when he’d been researching the inn. How she’d—
Wait.
Cold suspicion crept through him.
How many women had done this before? Researched him. Found out his interests. Positioned themselves perfectly in his path.
They were all the same. All of them. Even Megan.
Especially Megan. His ex. The one he’d thought might be different. The Oscar-nominated director with the sharp mind and the sharper tongue. The woman who’d looked at him like he was more than a bank account.
Or so he thought.
His accountant had flagged irregularities.
Small amounts at first. Then larger. Money being siphoned from accounts Megan had access to.
Accounts he’d given her access to because he’d trusted her.
She’d been funding her passion project. A film about female artists or something.
Had transferred nearly two hundred thousand over eight months without telling him.
He wouldn’t have minded. She’d just had to ask. Not do it behind his back.
When he’d confronted her, she’d tried to turn it around.
Said he should be supporting her art. That he had so much money, what did it matter?
That she’d planned to tell him eventually.
Then his lawyer had discovered something else.
Megan had consulted attorneys about the prenup. Looking for loopholes. Ways around it.
The fight that followed had been nuclear.
The vase. The accusations. Her sister calling three weeks later about the psychiatric facility.
A suicide attempt that had come right after her film funding fell through.
Right after three studios had passed. Right after she’d lost the thing she actually cared about.
Not him. The film.
He’d just been the bank. The safety net. The rich husband who could make her dreams happen.
When he’d cut her off, she’d fallen apart. Not because she loved him. Because he’d been useful.
Was Grace another one? Had she known exactly who WildTrailGuide was? Found out about his interest in the inn? Created this whole situation to—
No.
It was all too genuine. The vulnerability last night. All those years of loneliness.
That couldn’t be faked.
Could it…?
So many women had feigned vulnerability before when they were cold as steel, drawn like moths to the flame of money, prestige, power.
He gently lifted her off him and moved away from her.
“This is crazy,” Grace said, shaking her head as she looked up at the ceiling, clearly needing time too. “You’re WildTrailGuide.” She was repeating it like if she said it enough times it would start making sense.
As she talked, he grabbed his phone and pulled up Reddit. His profile.
WildTrailGuide. Account created two years ago.
He scrolled to AutumnDreams87’s profile.
Created three months ago, exactly when he’d found out about the inn and its potential sale from his real estate guy, a man who seemed to know a property would be going up for sale before anyone else.
Had Grace known before everyone else too?
Caught wind of a billionaire’s interest, saw it as a way to wheedle her way in?
He looked up at her, eyes cold. “Why did you join the subreddit? Did you know who I was?”
Grace’s head snapped toward him. “What?”
“You heard me, Grace,” Reese said, hearing the wariness in his own voice. A deep sigh: “Did you know who I was? Did you join that subreddit because you found out WildTrailGuide was Reese Spencer, billion-fucking-aire?”
Her mouth fell open. “Are you—are you serious right now?”
“Three months ago. Right when the Blackwells started putting feelers out about selling the inn.” He held up his phone. “That’s when you created your account.”
“Because I was trying to figure out how to buy a business! I swear, I didn’t know who you were!”
He shook his head, a small smile. “How convenient.”
“Convenient?” Her voice rose. “You think I—what, researched you? Found out your Reddit handle? Created some elaborate scheme to trick you into falling for me online so I could—”
“Wouldn’t be the first time.”
The words hung in the air between them.
Grace stared at him. “You actually think that of me.”
Reese forced himself to hold her gaze even as something in his chest twisted. He couldn’t be weak. Couldn’t be taken for a fool again. Not fall for the smiles and flirtations from women who positioned themselves perfectly in his orbit.
“I’m saying it’s happened before,” he said coldly. “A million times. Women find out who I am, what I’m worth, and suddenly they’re everywhere I look. Suddenly we have so much in common. Suddenly it’s fate.” His laugh was bitter. He shrugged. “Don’t worry, I’m used to it.”
Tears glistened in her eyes and it nearly broke him.
But he held it together and the curtain really came down.
Professional. Detached. Safe. “Hey,” he said softly, “don’t beat yourself up.
We knew it was all just a bit of fun anyway.
I liked it,” he heard himself say. “No big deal, so nothing to get worked up about.”
She stared at him for another long moment. Then she grabbed her phone from the nightstand, scrolled furiously through it and threw it onto the bed between them.
“Read that,” she said. “Then go to hell.”
She stormed into the bathroom, slamming the door hard enough to rattle the frame.
Reese stood there, trying to ignore the way his chest felt hollow. Then his eyes dropped to her phone on the bed.
He hesitated. Told himself he didn’t need to look. That it didn’t matter.
But his hand reached for it anyway.
The screen showed a WhatsApp conversation. Contact name: Sophie
He scrolled up to three months ago.
Sophie : How’s the loan application going?
Grace: Nightmare. The bank basically laughed me out of the building.
Sophie : Arseholes. What about that online guy you mentioned? Any help with advice?
Grace: WildTrailGuide? Yeah, actually. He’s been amazing. Gave me templates for business plans, helped me understand what banks actually want to see.
Sophie : Is he hot? Tell me he’s hot.
Grace: I have literally no idea what he looks like. It’s Reddit, Soph. Could be a 70-year-old accountant for all I know.
Sophie : But you like talking to him.
Grace: He’s…helpful. Smart. Doesn’t treat me like I’m stupid for not knowing business stuff.
Sophie : Grace Sullivan has a crush on an internet stranger. Never thought I’d see the day.
Grace: It’s not a crush. It’s professional mentorship.
Sophie : Sure, sure.
Grace: I’m serious! And anyway, he’s probably married with three kids. People who are actually helpful usually are.
Sophie : Or maybe he’s a hot single billionaire who’s going to sweep you off your feet.
Grace: Yeah, and maybe I’ll win the lottery and Zach will clean his room without being asked. We’re talking fantasies now.
Sophie : I’m just saying, you deserve someone good. Even if he is an internet stranger.
Grace: I deserve to get this inn. That’s what I deserve. Everything else is a distraction.
Reese scrolled further. More conversations.
Grace asking Sophie how to phrase questions for “her mentor.” Grace celebrating when “WildTrailGuide helped me figure out the ROI calculations.” Grace venting about her mother while mentioning that “at least two people believe I can do this: you and my online friend.”
Never once did she mention his real name. Never once did she suggest she knew who he was.
Reese pinched the bridge of his nose.
The doubt was still there. Thrumming under his skin. Years of experience screaming that this was too convenient, too perfect, too—
But maybe.
Maybe this was proof.
Maybe Grace really had no idea who he was when she’d messaged him at two in the morning asking for help with financial projections.
Maybe she’d just been a single mom trying to figure out how to chase her dream.
And maybe he’d just accused her of the worst kind of manipulation because he was too stupid to see the truth when it was right in front of him.