27. Jackson
Chapter twenty-seven
Jackson
B oom. Boom. Boom.
My heart pounds like a war drum, each beat echoing in my ear as my adrenaline courses through me. My grip on Noah’s shirt tightens until my knuckles turn white as I shove him harder against the wall. “Do you fucking hear me?”
“You’re seriously giving me parenting advice now? You’re a joke. A worthless father. Mom made the right move leaving you.”
“You can keep blaming me for everything, but maybe when you grow the fuck up, you’ll finally realize I’m not the bad guy—”
“You fucked her! You fucked her—why? Why her!?” The raw anguish in his voice cuts through me like a blade, each word a searing reminder of the choices I made. But, despite everything, he remains my son—a truth that wounds me deeper than any betrayal.
“Because I saw the same beauty you did. I needed her, too.”
My response falls from my lips, surprising us both. What am I doing? I don’t want to fight with him. Not like this. I loosen my grip, releasing him, and step back, the weight of my actions crashing over me. I turn to Georgia, desperate for a lifeline, but she’s gone. “Georgia?” I call out.
“If she knows what’s good for her, she fucking left,” Noah hisses.
I glance around. I’d barely been able to process Vince’s presence before taking that hit to the mouth, and now, he’s nowhere to be seen. “Where the fuck did Vince go?” I ask, my words laced with confusion and unease.
“Seriously? That’s what you’re worried about right now?”
“Where the fuck did he go?!” I roar in frustration, storming out of the room. Desperation claws at me as I move through the house, calling out for Georgia. I take the stairs two at a time and barrel through my door, hoping she sought solace in the safety of my room, but it’s empty. My hands shake as I pull out my phone and dial her number. It rings once before cutting to voicemail.
“Where are you? I need you back here.” I hang up. Noah is behind me.
“Let her go.” I ignore him and dial her again. This time, it doesn’t even ring. “I’m not fucking kidding. Get the fuck back here.” I disconnect and text her.
Me: Now is not the time to run. I need you here.
I lift my gaze to Noah. “Text Vince. Find out where he is.”
“No.”
“Fucking do it!” I take a threatening step toward him. “You’re mad, I get it. But right now is not the time to lash out. Find out where Vince is.”
“Why? What the fuck does he have to do with this aside from being the only one who was honest enough to tell—”
“He plans to fucking hurt her, that’s why!”
His bravado falters. “What?” he stammers, caught off guard.
“When I got back to the office, I met with Craig Stone,” I rush out.
“Why? What the fuck are you talking about?”
“Talk fast,” I demand, throwing off my suit coat and sitting at my desk.
“The Hallsteads have been busy. Burt Hallstead lost everything when his programming failed to reach the next level and blew through every dollar he made trying to hire someone to recreate it.”
“Tell me something I don’t already know.”
“Burt tried to amend his losses. He landed the job with Terra Blueprint Consulting, but it was nowhere near lucrative enough to keep up with the lifestyle he created—”
“Craig, you’re wasting my fucking—”
“Burt may be broke and on the verge of a midlife crisis, but I don’t think he’s your guy.”
“What are you talking about? His fucking son tried to blackmail my girl.”
“Oh, the son’s guilty as fuck. A rap sheet a mile long. He’s definitely an accomplice, if not the driving force.” He tosses black and white images onto my desk. Screenshots from video footage.
“What is this?”
“Did your manager a solid. I know an IT guy who got past the virus. This is the warehouse tour footage. Lookie who we’ve got there.” I lean closer, trying to take in the blurry image. It takes me a minute to figure it out. “Fuck.”
“Vince Hallstead.”
“But who’s the kid he’s with?”
“Random. He didn’t have a parent, and Vince slipped in and claimed the kid as his little brother. No one batted an eye at it.”
“You also know him as Jethro Brock. The temp on file.” That motherfucker. “But how? Isn’t he at college—”
“Appears not. Money issues. Lost his funding. He never went.”
“But he said—”
“While we’ve kept our focus on his father, Vince was masterminding a way to destroy you, learning the system, conspiring how to get in and out without being recognized. Some would think the kid was yours—he’s become a wiz at coding. Perhaps he thought that if he obtained the ledger, he could figure out the next level.
“And Georgia?”
“He’s been watching you two. Appears he figured it out before he caught her. Has video footage of the two of you...”
I grab the back of my neck. “What does he plan to do with it?”
“Based on emails, exploit you, tag you as a predator. He fucked with timestamps, dating them back years ago.”
“When she would have been underage.”
“Exactly.”
“That motherfucker.”
“What’s his endgame?”
“Take everything from you that you took from his family. Make you suffer. You have an unhinged kid on your hands. But that’s not the worst part.”
“There’s fucking more?”
“There’s no love lost for Georgia. Vince seems to know you have a weakness for her. It’s in Telegram, the dark web system he uses to contact his partner. The shit they talk about is fucked up. Makes it sound like if and when they get that ledger, they plan on getting rid of all evidence in case anyone comes searching—including Georgia.”
“What the fuck are you talking about? As in hurting her?”
“Killing her—”
“The fuck they will!” I roar. “If Vince or Burt get anywhere near her—”
“I told you, it’s not Burt. He’s clean as a whistle in all this.”
“Then who the fuck is he working with?”
“His mother.”
“He’s been lying to you.”
“How? Specifics, Dad. Seems you’re the only liar—”
“He never went to college.”
“That’s bullshit—”
“Noah, fucking listen to me. I don’t have time to get into all this. Georgia’s in danger. Vince is unhinged and wants revenge. He wanted something from me and tried to go through Georgia to get it.”
“The ledger?”
My eyes widen. “He told you?”
“No, Georgia tried to, but I didn’t believe her. Not that I had a chance, 'cause Vince started going off about you and her—”
“That doesn’t matter right now. We need to find him. We need to find her .”
He finally nods, pulling out his phone. Thank fuck. I stand, my hands shaking, as he types out a message. “Call him,” I command, and he dials his number.
“Voicemail.”
“Fuck!”
“What’s going on? You’re starting to freak me out. Why would he hurt Georgia if he wants to hurt you?”
“It’s not just him. It’s also his mother.”
“Say that again?” I ask, my gaze fixed on Craig.
“Veronica Hallstead, or Veronica Sheldon. In hopes of staying off the grid, she was using her maiden name.”
“What the fuck does she have to do with this.”
“Like Vince, we’ve been tracking the wrong Hallstead. Veronica has been busy the past few years.”
“She’s a ruthless bitch, but she doesn’t have the brains to conjure up something like this—”
“That’s where you’re wrong. Burt was going broke no matter what. His wife was flying through money—”
“Because she’s a money-sucking cunt.”
Craig chuckles. “She was definitely living lavishly, but that’s not where her money went.”
“I assume you’re going to tell me?”
“She’s been having you followed.”
My mind races. “That’s impossible. You would’ve known.”
Craig smirks, shaking his head. “I was impressed. I’ll give her that. The deposits and withdrawals were all disguised as transactions for high-end art purchases—nothing that would raise suspicion. Her husband didn’t question a thing. Probably thought anything to keep his wife happy was worth it.” He pauses. “Here’s where it gets interesting—under the name Veronica Hallstead, everything checks out. Fancy art purchases, perfectly legit. But dig into her maiden name, and a whole different story emerges. A single account loaded with deposits for years. She’s been tracking you for years.”
I let the weight of his words sink in. “Why?” I ask, though I already know the answer. She’s a greedy snake. Once she realized she screwed up, she wanted me back.
Craig shrugs. “I haven’t been able to get to the bottom of it all yet. There’s too much, but one thing’s clear: your ex has quite the obsession with you.”
My skin crawls, and my stomach churns at the thought of ever touching someone so vile. “What does any of this have to do with Vince and the ledger?”
Craig tosses a stack of printed emails onto my desk. “I’d tell you to sit down and read through these if you have the time, but it would take a while. To sum it up, she’s the mastermind behind all this.”
I flip through a few pages, my mind spinning. Shock, confusion, fury… the weight of it builds with every email I skim.
“Seems they both share a hatred for Daddy Burt,” Craig continues. “Veronica for not getting the wealth she thought she deserved. And her son? For the life he was meant to have, stolen from him.”
“Still, why is this my fucking problem?” I snap, anger bubbling to the surface.
“Because you hold the key to everything they want.”
The ledger.
“While everyone thought Vince was attending an elite school, he was actually being trained. He infiltrated your company and sabotaged the system from within.” He pauses and tosses a photo onto my desk. I pick it up, and read the name typed under it. Jethro Brock. Even through the heavy disguise, I can identify those cold eyes of his. Craig continues. “My guess is that it was a diversion to distract you while they retrieved the ledger. Once he pulled that off, they figured they were ready for the final stage of their plan. Then Noah came home with Georgia, and when Vince got wind of what was happening behind closed doors, they saw their opportunity.”
“So... what? They thought they’d blackmail Georgia, get the ledger, and sell the next level of the program as their own, and no one would bat a fucking eye?”
“That was one option. Veronica, however, has this twisted fantasy that you two will reunite. That you’ll pair up and bring the medical coding program to life together.”
I let out a bitter laugh. “And why the fuck would I do that when I already run a multibillion-dollar company?” My skin crawls at the very thought.
“Because if you didn’t, they had a plan B.”
My fists clench. “And that was…?”
“They’d get rid of Georgia. Veronica is insanely jealous of the girl who brought you to your knees. Then they’d expose you, leak the videos, and ruin your career, your name, your entire life. And when you had nothing left, she figured you’d crawl back to her.”
“Jesus Christ,” I mutter, dragging a hand down my face. “And Burt? I don’t believe he’s completely in the dark about this.”
“That’s the thing—” he replies, his tone shifting, “Burt hasn’t been seen in weeks.”
“Because that coward is fucking hiding,” I spit.
“No.” His next words land like a hammer. “My guess? He’s dead.”
Noah’s face twists in disbelief. “The fuck? Why? That makes no sense.”
I wipe the blood from my lip and glare at Noah. “Vince isn’t working alone. His mother is helping him. Listen, I can’t get into all the details right now,” I snap, my patience running thin.
He throws his hands up in frustration. “You’re throwing a lot of shit at me right now. I think you at least owe me the cliff notes.”
I take a steady breath, knowing there’s no way to sugarcoat this. “Veronica and I dated in college.”
“What?” His voice spikes with disbelief. “Did Mom know?”
“Yes,” I admit, bracing for his reaction.
Noah grabs fistfuls of his already unruly hair and begins to pace. When he finally turns around, his eyes are piercing. “Why have you never said anything?”
“Because it’s ancient history.”
“Is it, though?”
He’s got me there. I let out a sharp breath. “Son, listen—” I reach for him, but he jolts his shoulder back, avoiding my touch.
“Don’t fucking call me that,” he snaps. “You’re no father.”
His words slice through me, but I push the pain aside. “Fair enough,” I concede, stepping back to give him space. “But there are more important matters at hand. Georgia could be in danger.”
“Vince wouldn’t hurt her. He’s not like that.”
“He’s exactly like that! Have you been listening to me?” I fire back, my voice rising. “He blackmailed her. Roughed her up a few weeks ago. Threatened to rape her. Does that sound like someone incapable of hurting her? Be angry with me all you want, but don’t take it out on Georgia. She’s innocent.”
“You’re kidding me, right?” Noah glares at me, his voice laced with hatred and disbelief. “This is all your fault. You seduced her, and she had no choice but to fall on your dick.”
“Noah, that’s enough,” I warn, trying to rein in the spiraling argument.
“No. Fuck you!” he shouts, then tears himself away and disappears down the hall.
“Where the fuck are you going?” I demand, following on his heels.
“Away from you and your lies. I don’t believe a damn thing you’re saying.”
“Noah!” I shout at his back, but he doesn’t stop. “I said fucking stop!” Before I can think, I rush after him, grab him by the shoulders, and slam him against the wall, my grip tight and unrelenting. “Fine. Be the fucking punk kid who doesn’t give a damn about anything. I’m done trying to save you from your own stupidity. You can screw up your life all you want, but I won’t let you screw up hers. Now, give me your phone.”
“No,” he spits back, defiance blazing in his eyes.
“Give me your goddamn phone!” My voice is pure fury.
Emotions flit through his eyes—shock, fear, uncertainty. Stiffly, he digs into his pocket and shoves the phone into my chest.
“All this for pussy?” he sneers. “She wasn’t even that good.”
I shove Noah aside, my grip faltering as I punch in his passcode and swipe to his texts. My breath hitches when I see Vince hasn’t replied.
“Fuck!” I hiss under my breath, redialing Vince’s number. Straight to voicemail. Dammit.
Turning my back on Noah, I grab my own phone and speed-dial Craig. “I need you to trace a number,” I snap, rattling off Georgia’s phone number. “Do it now. While I’m on the phone.”
The seconds stretch as I pace, my chest tight with dread.
“Satellite shows it’s about seven miles from you,” Craig says finally.
“Where?” I ask, desperate.
“Pulling it up now. She’s moving. Wait. Got it. The red light camera footage from the light on Westin Avenue and Fields—she’s in a car. Black sedan. Heading north.”
“Who’s she with?” I bark, gripping the phone like a lifeline.
“I can’t tell.”
I hear a car horn outside, which makes me jump. “Can you see the license plate?” I ask urgently. As I rush toward the door. The honking continues relentlessly as I fling it open. Standing beside the driver’s side, a kid meets my glare. “What the fuck do you want?” I snap.
He raises his hands defensively. “Hey, someone called for an Uber. I’ll wait five minutes before I charge.”
My stomach twists into knots. “Craig, that license plate—who’s it registered to?”
Before he can finish, the kid adds, “Are you taking the ride or what? ’Cause—”
I cut him off, my tone clipped. “What’s the name on the request?”
The kid glances at his phone. “Georgia Price.”
My voice cracks. “Craig—”
I can barely process the next words as he answers, “Veronica Hallstead.”
The name barely registers before I’m bolting toward my car. “Track that sedan. Don’t lose its location, and if they stop, send me the address.” I end the call and sprint to my vehicle, sliding into the driver’s seat with my hands still unsteady. Immediately, I fire up the navigation system and enter in the direction they’re headed. Every second feels critical as I brace myself for whatever comes next.