Chapter Six #2
Thirty days. Independent audit. Restricted access. Public-facing pause. Clean words for punishment.
I signed every page.
Ewan seemed surprised.
Peter did not.
Victor watched me sign like he was watching me cut my own throat.
When it was over, I stood.
Peter followed me out into the hall.
“Bennett.”
I stopped near the private elevator. “Not now.”
“You did the right thing in there.”
I laughed without humor. “I cheated on my wife with her best friend, exposed the company to a breach, and made my son hate me. I am not in the right thing business today.”
“You could have fought the audit.”
“I deserved worse.”
Peter looked tired. “The board is scared.”
“They should be.”
“Of you?”
I looked back through the glass wall. My father was speaking with Ewan, his hands calm, his face grave, already building a new plan.
“No,” I said. “Of what they don’t know yet.”
Peter followed my gaze. “What does that mean?”
I took out my phone and showed him the unknown messages.
He read them twice.
His face changed.
“Who sent these?”
“I don’t know.”
“You think Serena?”
“No.”
“Victor?”
I did not answer.
Peter looked toward the boardroom again. “Careful, Bennett.”
I almost smiled. “Everyone keeps saying that.”
“Because you are standing in a room full of knives.”
“No,” I said. “Madeleine is. I am just starting to notice.”
I left before he could answer.
Outside, the rain had stopped, but the city still looked wet and cold. Martin drove me himself. He did not speak unless I asked, which was why I kept him close.
“Where to, sir?” he asked.
I almost said the hotel.
Almost.
Then I heard Audrey’s voice again.
Theo does not want contact today.
“Drive near St. Anselm’s,” I said.
Martin looked at me in the mirror.
“I am not going in,” I said. “I just want to see if the press are there before school lets out.”
“Yes, sir.”
St. Anselm’s was Theo’s school. Private. Old. Expensive. The kind of place where boys wore blazers and learned early that last names could open doors or close them.
When we turned onto the street, I saw three cars parked too close to the entrance.
Not parents.
Press.
My hands tightened.
“Pull over.”
Martin did.
I got out before he could stop me.
One man lifted a camera.
“Mr. Rourke! Is Theo in school today?”
Martin moved fast, stepping between us.
I kept walking.
The man tried again. “Did your son watch the video?”
I turned.
Martin said, “Sir.”
I ignored him.
I walked straight to the man with the camera.
He stepped back.
Good.
“You take one photo of my son,” I said quietly, “and I will spend the rest of this year making sure you never work near a school again.”
The man lifted his hands. “Public sidewalk.”
“Yes,” I said. “And I have public money, private lawyers, and a very bad mood.”
Martin touched my arm. “Sir.”
I stepped back.
The school security guard opened the front gate. He saw me and frowned with worry, not judgment.
“Mr. Rourke.”
“Is Theo inside?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good. His mother will collect him?”
“We were told Ms. Hart’s driver is on the approved list today.”
Ms. Hart.
The name still hurt.
It also sounded right.
“Do not let press near him,” I said.
“We won’t.”
I nodded and turned back toward the car.
Then I saw him.
Theo stood behind the second-floor window.
He was looking down at me.
My heart stopped.
For one second, I forgot the press, the board, the scandal, the rain, everything.
I lifted one hand.
Not a wave.
Not really.
Just a small sign.
I am here.
I am sorry.
I will not come closer.
Theo stared at me.
Then he stepped back from the window and disappeared.
My hand stayed in the air for one foolish second.
Then I lowered it.
Martin opened the car door.
I got in.
“Go,” I said.
He drove.
I did not look back because I knew if I did, I might break my promise and go inside.
We turned the corner, and my phone buzzed.
For one second, I hoped.
It was not Madeleine.
It was Serena.
I almost ignored it.
Then I answered.
“What?”
Her voice came through shaky. “You need to come see me.”
“No.”
“Bennett, please.”
“No.”
“They’re blaming me for everything.”
“You had a role in everything.”
“So did you.”
“I know. I admitted mine.”
She went quiet.
Then she said, “Your statement made me look like a monster.”
I stared out the window. “You came to my wife’s door wearing the slip from the video.”
A sharp breath.
So Madeleine had told Audrey. Or Caleb. Or someone had seen.
“How do you know that?”
“Do not contact Madeleine again.”
“You don’t get to command me.”
“You’re right,” I said. “So hear the request. Stay away from my wife and son.”
“She’s not your wife.”
The words hit, but I kept my voice steady.
“That is her choice. Not yours.”
Serena laughed, but it cracked in the middle. “You think she’ll take you back because you cried on camera?”
“No.”
“You think if you play the noble broken husband long enough, she’ll forget Caleb Renner standing beside her?”
My jaw tightened.
There it was.
The hook she wanted in me.
I did not bite.
“What do you want, Serena?”
“I want you to remember how this started.”
My body went still.
“What does that mean?”
“You know what it means.”
“No. I know what you told Madeleine last night. You said I came to your hotel room the first night. Why?”
Silence.
“Serena.”
“You know why,” she said.
“I know what you said that night.”
“Then say it.”
I closed my eyes.
The memory rose.
A message from Serena. Panic. Claims about Madeleine’s charity. A threat. A donor list. A hotel room because she said she could not speak by phone. A drink. Another. Anger. Fear. Serena crying. Her hand on my chest. Me not stepping back.
My sin was mine.
But the first meeting had not been desire.
It had been fear.
“You told me Madeleine was in trouble,” I said.
“She was.”
“Was she?”
Another silence.
Then Serena’s voice turned colder. “Be careful, Bennett. You are not the only one with things to lose.”
“What do you have?”
She breathed hard. “Come see me.”
“No.”
“Then ask your father.”
My blood chilled.
“Ask him what?”
She hung up.
I lowered the phone slowly.
Martin watched me in the mirror.
“Sir?”
“Find out where my father was the night I first met Serena at the Fairmont.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And Martin?”
“Yes?”
“Find out whether he paid her.”
Martin did not react.
That was why I trusted him.
“Yes, sir.”
My phone buzzed again.