22. Elliot #3
Caleb nodded. “No interviews, public speaking engagements, society pages, red carpets, or confirmed photos since she was little, and even most of those have been scrubbed.”
Theo’s brows rose. “That’s actually impressive.”
“She has limited social media, with a very large following,” Caleb added. “Nothing identifiable. Landscapes, books, wine, architecture, charities she supports, hands, sometimes reflections. Never her face.”
The words pulled at something. A faint, irritating tug at the back of my mind.
I frowned. Harper had hated being photographed unless she controlled the angle.
She hated candid shots. Hated being caught off guard.
She used to turn her face when cameras came too close at events, not dramatically, just enough to disappear from the frame without making it obvious.
I had thought it was a professional habit. PR people managing their own optics. Now, for some reason, Caleb’s description of the mysterious Montgomery daughter had made something in my chest tighten. Which was ridiculous.
Harper was Harper Lane. PR consultant, or I guess, former PR consultant. The woman who hated me, who had blocked my number and vanished from Chicago.
Not an heiress. Not Alexander Montgomery’s daughter. Not…
“Elliot,” Julian said carefully.
Caleb watched me for a second too long, then continued. “The event is in two weeks. A very private guest list. They have invited top international media outside, but no press inside. Alexander wants controlled visibility.”
“Smart,” Rowan said.
“Very,” Caleb agreed. “And if we want Montgomery International to take our calls in the future, we need to be there.”
Julian nodded. “Northwell has a table?”
“Yes,” Caleb replied.
Theo grinned. “Excellent. I love mysterious billionaire daughters.”
I leaned back, staring at the folder in front of me. Montgomery International Foundation Announces Leadership Transition. The words sat bold at the top of the page.
Two weeks.
For reasons I couldn’t explain, my pulse had started to pound.
“Do we know her name?” I asked.
Caleb shook his head. “The formal announcement is being held until the event. The brief only refers to her as Alexander Montgomery’s daughter.”
“That’s dramatic,” Theo said.
Julian’s mouth twitched. “Rich, coming from you.”
Theo pointed at him. “I am theatrical, not dramatic. There’s a difference.”
No one responded.
Caleb glanced down at the file. “What we do know is that she’s expected to take on a major public-facing role. Foundation strategy, media, philanthropy.”
The tug in my chest sharpened. I looked away.
Julian stood and gathered his papers. “We’ll need full prep before the event.”
“I’ll handle it,” Rowan said.
The words should have comforted me. They didn’t. Because Harper would have handled it, or we would have handled it together.
My chest tightened again.
Theo tossed a donut across the table toward me. It landed in front of my folder. I stared at it, then at him.
“What?” he asked.
“You threw food at me.”
“You look like you’re going to pass out.” He said with a chuckle.
“I’m fine,” I said, standing and attempting to smooth out my suit.
“No, you’re not.”
I didn’t counter because, for once, I was too tired to lie. Rowan left first without looking at me.
Julian paused at the door, probably debating saying something. Thankfully, he didn’t. Caleb set his hand on the back of a chair and looked at me.
“You need to get your shit together before that event.”
I laughed once, but there was no humour in it. “I’m aware.”
“No,” he said. “You’re not.”
I looked up. His expression was calm. “You think if you find her, you’ll fix this?”
I didn’t respond.
Caleb’s voice lowered. “You don’t even know what you’re apologizing for yet.”
I opened my mouth, then closed it. Anger flared hot, then died. Because I wanted to tell him he was wrong. I wanted to say that I knew. I hurt her, I called Natalia, I made sure Harper saw, and I said horrible shit in the conference room.
I fucking knew.
But the truth was, every time I thought I had reached the bottom of what I had done, something else opened beneath it.
The contract. The ring. The way I had assumed things about her.
The way I had called it a transaction, because I was too scared to call it anything else.
The way I kept saying I didn’t cheat because I didn’t know how to survive admitting that maybe cheating wasn’t the worst thing I had done.
Caleb watched whatever crossed my face, then nodded once. Like that was enough.
Theo clapped a hand on my shoulder as he passed. “You’re a disaster.”
I flipped him off, and he left laughing.
I remained in the boardroom alone. The folder in front of me, with the stupid donut beside it.
I reached for the folder and read the announcement one more time.
Alexander Montgomery’s daughter. A public return, for a woman no one knew.
I didn’t know why my stomach felt unsettled, or why the thought of walking into that event made something in me feel like the floor was about to drop out.
But it did. And lately, when something felt wrong, it usually meant I was several steps away from realizing exactly how badly I had fucked up.