Chapter 22
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Wade
My office was quiet except for the sound of waves beyond the glass and the whiny male voices coming through my phone.
Through the glass, I could see Marie outside with her father, playing in the sand with Honey. I also had my exterior cameras pulled up on my iPad, multiple angles showing her in another adorably pink sundress.
“—they didn't ask," Connor was saying, his voice that low growl that meant he was more irritated than usual. "Just left."
"At least Sierra told you," Jax interjected, and I could hear the frustration bleeding through his usually cocky tone. "Estelle texted me from the car. A text, Dad. Like I'm some nobody."
"Isla said it would be 'good for our relationship,'" Adrian added, his voice taking on that manic edge. "What the fuck does that mean? Our relationship is perfect! She's the one making it weird by leaving!”
I leaned back in my chair, watching Marie bend down to throw a beachball for Honey, and allowed myself a small smile at my sons' collective misery.
"We confirmed no male staff today," Connor continued. "Everyone working is female."
"Yeah, which is great and all," Adrian started, "But it doesn't actually help."
"Why the fuck wouldn't it help?" Jax demanded, golden-boy charm completely absent. "No men means no—"
"There are also women like our Jovie out in the world," I interrupted mildly, watching Marie's dress flutter in the breeze through both the window and the iPad screen. "You never know."
Complete, devastating silence. I was afraid I'd broken them.
"FUCK." Adrian said it first, loud enough that I had to pull the phone away from my ear. "FUCK. I didn't even—why would you—"
"Oh my god," Jax sounded strangled. "Dad. No. Don't put that in my head."
"Get into the security system," Connor growled at Adrian, no longer dry and measured. "Right now."
"I'm trying!" Adrian's voice pitched higher. "But their system is—hold on—I need—"
"We need visuals," Jax sounded shattered. "We need to see what's happening in there right now. Adrian, get the fucking cameras!”
"I'M WORKING ON IT!" Adrian yelled back. "Fuck fuck fuck, Wade, why would you say that? Why would you plant that seed? Now all we can think about—"
“You shouldn't have let them leave without you," I cut him off, still watching Marie through the window. She was laughing at something her father said, her whole face lighting up.
"Let them?" Jax's voice went dangerously flat. "Have you met our wives? We don't 'let them’ do anything."
"Fair point," I conceded. "But you're all still losing your minds over a spa day, and I find it entertaining."
"Entertaining?" Adrian sounded outraged. "This isn't—you're supposed to be the—"
"Adrian, the cameras. Now.” Connor interrupted. "I need to see.”
"DONE!" Adrian announced triumphantly. "I'm in. Pulling up—oh thank god, they're just getting facials. Fully clothed facials. With old ladies doing them. Very old ladies. Elderly, even."
"Let me see," Jax demanded, and I heard shuffling. "Okay. Okay, yeah, that's fine. That's acceptable."
"Still don't like it," Connor muttered, but the dangerous edge had left his voice.
"You three are insane," I mused, grinning now. Hearing my sons spiral over their wives was oddly satisfying. Karma for all the years they'd made me worry over them.
I looked at Marie through the window, watched her crouch down to hug Honey, and felt that possessive certainty settle deeper in my chest.
"I've found someone," I declared.
The phone went quiet, and then exploded with noise, all three beasts of them talking over each other in identical shock.
"What?"
"You're joking—"
"Holy SHIT," Adrian yelled loudest. "Wade Easton, the man who never brought a woman home, who raised us to murder, who literally said no woman was worth the trouble—you found someone?!”
"I did," I confirmed proudly. "Her name is Marie, she has a dog named Honey, and she's living here with me."
"How long?" Connor asked, cutting through the chaos.
"A week."
"Perfect," Adrian decided immediately. "About the same as me…ish."
"Sierra was mine in three days," Connor countered.
"Shit. Estelle took me almost two weeks." Jax clearly lost this battle.
I felt satisfaction settle at their immediate acceptance and competition. This was what I'd raised them to be—men who knew what they wanted and took it without apology. Men who understood that time was irrelevant when you found the right person.
"Tell us about her," Jax asked, and I heard the curiosity. "Everything."
"She's perfect," I answered, watching her throw the ball for Honey again through the window. "She's been through hell but survived it. She's strong, she’s brave, and she's mine. That's all you need to know for now."
"For now?" Adrian pounced on that. "What aren't you telling us?"
"Everything else is Marie's story to share when she's ready," I didn’t leave room for argument. "What you need to know is that she's important to me. More important than anything else, and you will treat her accordingly when you meet her."
"When we meet her?" Jax's voice perked up. "When?"
"Eventually," I allowed. "When she's ready. But I'm warning you now, she's been through trauma. You three greet her with your typical intensity, and you'll terrify her."
"We can be subtle," Adrian protested.
"No, you absolutely cannot," I countered flatly. "None of you can. You're boxers who radiate danger. Subtlety isn't in your vocabulary."
"Yeah," Connor grunted. "But we’ll do it.”
“Because we want to meet the woman who got Wade Easton to fall in love," Jax added, warmth in his voice now. "I'm happy for you. Really."
"We all are," Adrian agreed, his energy settling. "You deserve this. You've spent your whole life taking care of us. It’s about time someone took care of you."
"Marie does take care of me," I agreed. "In ways she has no idea of, and I'm keeping her."
"Of course you are," Connor snorted, that dry tone back. “We don't let go of what's ours."
"Exactly," I agreed, still watching Marie through the window. “I taught you boys well.”
"How did you meet her?" Adrian asked, and then I heard an angry grunt—likely one of them wrestling Jax for the phone.
I recalled Marie crashing into me, bleeding and desperately asking for help.
"She ran into me when she needed help," I answered. "And I helped her. The rest is history."
"That's the most… Wade thing ever," they said, laughing.
"It's all you're getting for now," I confirmed lightly. "Now, don't you three have wives to go stalk on security cameras?"
"Already watching," Adrian confirmed. "And they just ordered champagne. At two PM. On a Tuesday."
"Unacceptable," Connor growled. "I'm going down there."
"Connor, no—" Jax started, but I heard a door close abruptly.
"And there he goes," Adrian sighed. "Give him ten minutes, and he'll be at that spa 'coincidentally' in the area."
"We should probably go too," Jax added. "Make sure he doesn't get arrested for breaking into a women's spa."
"Have fun with that," I chuckled. "I have better things to do, like spending time with my lady.”
"Show off," Adrian muttered, but I heard the happiness in his voice. "Seriously, though. You deserve this."
"Thank you. Now go rescue your brother before he does something stupid."
I ended the call and looked through the window where Marie was still playing with Honey, her father watching from the shade with the soft expression of a man who'd gotten his daughter back. She was laughing, her whole body radiating joy.
Then there was a knock, and the door to my office opened. Thomas entered with quiet efficiency. "Sir. Kyan and Alastair are available for a call whenever you're ready."
I shifted immediately, the warmth I'd been feeling for Marie compartmentalizing into cold, sharp business. The part of me that had built an empire and made decisions that affected thousands of lives. The Easton head, as my sons called it.
"Put them through.” My voice lost the warmth it held during the call with my sons. "I want you present for this."
Thomas nodded, taking his position by the desk as he initiated the video call. Within seconds, two faces appeared on my screen—Kyan's easy grin and Alastair's more reserved expression.
Kyan was a strong, imposing man whose casual demeanor belied the precision with which he worked. Alastair was more sharp-featured, the kind of person you wouldn’t want to anger.
"Wade," Kyan greeted, leaning back in his chair with that casual confidence that came from being the best at what he did. "Always a pleasure. Though I have to say, early acceptance to Dominion Hall has us both feeling motivated."
"Extremely," Alastair agreed, his sharp eyes studying me through the screen. "That's not an opportunity that comes around often."
Dominion Hall entry required either legacy status from generations or an invitation from someone with significant power. I had that power, and I'd promised them both spots if they completed this job perfectly.
"Report," I ordered, watching them both straighten slightly at my tone.
"The guest list is complete," Kyan reported, his grin turning more professional. "Every name in that ledger has been handled. No loose ends, no witnesses, no bodies that will ever be found."
“Correct,” Alastair confirmed. "We cross-referenced with the evidence your team provided. Every match has been eliminated, and the clients are gone.”
“The staff?" I asked, my eyes tracking to the window.
"That's where it gets odd,” Kyan said, exchanging a glance with Alastair. "Most of the operational staff, guards, and management were handled. But there's one anomaly in the staff logs we wanted to run by you."
"Explain." I forced my eyes back to the screen.
Alastair pulled up a document on his end, studying it. "One entry in the staff section doesn't have a name. It’s just a set of eleven numbers. It could be an administrative code, a weekly log reference, or just nothing. But it appears multiple times over the period.”
"Eleven numbers?" Thomas interjected. "Not following any standard identification pattern?"
"No pattern we recognize," Kyan confirmed. "It's listed in the staff section, but we can't determine if it's a person, a code, or a log. We weren't sure if we should pursue it or if it's just an administrative notation."
I leaned back in my chair, considering. "Frequency of appearances?"
"Intermittent," Alastair answered. “It shows up maybe once every few months. Sometimes more, sometimes less. There’s no clear pattern to the timing."
“It could be a rotating supervisor," Thomas suggested. "Or a code for shift rotations."
“Or someone higher up checking in periodically," Kyan added. "Or it could literally just be a logbook number. We have no context."
I steepled my fingers, thinking through the possibilities. An administrative code made sense since large operations often had numerical systems for tracking. Weekly logs, rotation schedules, inventory checks. It didn't necessarily mean a person, let alone someone important.
My eyes drifted back to the window, to Marie throwing the ball around with that radiant smile on her face. She would know. She'd been there for years, had managed schedules, and had been part of the administrative structure. She could probably tell us in five seconds what those numbers meant.
But asking her would mean bringing that darkness back into her world. It would mean making her remember things she was finally starting to heal from. I’d have to watch that beautiful smile fade as she relived trauma I'd promised to protect her from.
I looked at her laughing in the sunlight, Honey at her side, her father watching with joy, and I made my decision.
"Don't ask Marie," I declared firmly, brooking no argument.
Thomas's head snapped toward me, surprise clear in his expression. In all the years he'd worked for me, I'd never, not once, put personal feelings above operational efficiency.
The Easton empire thrived on information, making tough choices, and taking whatever necessary steps to eliminate threats. And here I was, choosing to operate with incomplete intelligence because I didn't want to see my darling’s smile disappear.
"Sir," Thomas started carefully, "she would be the most reliable source for—"
"I'm aware," I interrupted, not looking away from Marie. "And I don't care. We’ll figure it out without involving her."
"Wade," Kyan said slowly, processing this unexpected deviation from my usual methods. "If this is something important, if it's a person who could be a threat—"
"Then we find out without traumatizing Marie," I said flatly. "She's been through enough. I won't add to it just for convenience."
Alastair and Kyan exchanged a look, surprised but not disapproving. "Understood," Alastair said quietly. "We'll work with what we have."
"Thomas," I turned to him. "Contact our analysts. Have them cross-reference those numbers with everything—codes, scheduling systems, inventory logs. If it's an administrative notation, they'll figure it out. If it's a person, they'll find the pattern."
"And if the analysts can't crack it?" Thomas asked, already making notes.
"Then we work around it, but we don't involve Marie. That's non-negotiable."
"Yes, sir." Thomas's voice held a note of apprehension, but he didn't argue.
"Keep us updated on what the analysts find," Kyan added. "We'll wait for the result. If this numerical entry turns out to be someone important, we'll handle it."
"Good." I looked at both of them through the screen. "And remember, if you complete this perfectly, Dominion Hall is yours. Both of you."
"We won't let you down," Alastair promised, sharp eyes serious.
The call ended, and I leaned back in my chair, finding Marie through the window again. She was standing now, brushing sand off her pink dress, her whole face lit up with happiness as she talked to her father.
"Sir," Thomas said quietly. "That was unexpected."
"I know, but she's more important. More important than any of it. I won't sacrifice her peace of mind for information we can obtain through other means."
“She's very lucky to have you."
"I'm the lucky one," I corrected, meaning it completely. "Now get our analysts on those numbers. I want answers within forty-eight hours."
"Yes, sir." Thomas left quietly, and I remained at my desk, watching Marie through the glass.
I'd built an empire on hard choices and ruthless efficiency. I always got the information I needed, regardless of the cost. Yet here I was, choosing to work with missing evidence because I couldn't stand the thought of dimming her smile.
She was worth more than information. Worth more than efficiency, worth more than anything else in my world.