Chapter 29
Harper
When they say breakups are hardcore, they’re not lying. I thought my previous relationships had left me wounded, that I’d seen it all—but this is next level. Probably because Baptiste was everything I ever wanted. Probably because I loved him. And because I’m the reason it’s over.
I’ve wanted to call him so many times these past few days.
I even came close, thumb hovering over his name, heart pounding with anticipation, but what would I say?
That I’m sorry? No apology can ever erase what I did.
He’s right. I broke his trust, and I did it for the wrong reasons.
I was so obsessed with unearthing the truth, I forgot his feelings in the process.
I treated his life like a story I was investigating.
And I went too far, convincing myself the end justified the means.
But it didn’t.
Part of me wonders if he ever opened the envelope.
If Helen is his real mom after all. I called her to explain that I didn’t look at the results but gave them to Baptiste.
That it was up to him to open them or let things lie.
To contact her or keep living his life, and she agrees it was the best course of action.
I shake my head, forcing myself back into focus.
I have to stop thinking about this. It’s none of my business anymore.
The very fact that I made it my business in the first place pushed away the first guy I ever truly loved.
I have to take this as a lesson. A hard one.
A reminder to stick to my job—and to listen to my boss when she says I’m going too far.
I haven’t been able to drag myself to the office since it happened, but thankfully, I can do my job from home. Which is where I am now.
But I’m still nowhere close to finding anything new on Victor.
I get up from my spot on the floor by the couch and trudge to the kitchen to fix myself a sandwich. I’ve been surviving on energy drinks and bologna sandwiches. And, well—it’s working. I’m alive. Cue the applause.
I sit back down on the floor, surrounded by printouts and scribbled notes from my first case on Victor, when my phone rings.
Assuming it’s my boss, I curse myself mentally for not calling her. Selma always gets anxious when I disappear for a few days.
But when I check the screen, my eyebrows draw together. It’s Beth.
“Hey,” I say. “How are you?”
“Can’t complain. But I’m calling to see how you are. I know how tough breakups can be.”
“I’m fine,” I say, mustering all my energy to sound convincing and only partially succeeding.
“Okay. Glad to hear it. Marissa and I were wondering if you’d like to go out to dinner tomorrow night.”
I press my lips tight. “Oh.”
“Come on,” she insists. “Girls’ night. It’ll be fun, help you take your mind off things.”
I blow a few messy strands of hair from my face. She’s right. I need a change of scenery. And maybe—just maybe—the girls and I can stay friends even after my breakup with Baptiste. When they first reached out, I thought they were just being polite. But they seem to mean it.
And honestly, a real meal would do me some good.
“All right,” I breathe out. “Yeah. Let’s do it.”
“Awesome! I’ll text you the details. See you tomorrow.”
I drop my phone beside me, and a photo of Victor slightly rumpled on the floor snags my attention.
It’s an old one, taken in an art gallery somewhere in Europe.
His hand is threaded through his hair, that familiar smug half-smile plastered on his face.
But what catches my eye is the ring he's wearing. He’s always loved that obnoxious ring.
He got it from his mother, but since it’s a simple band with a black gemstone, it passes as unisex.
Hold on. Gemstone, gemstone… Topaz
Everything starts to unravel in my mind, fast and sharp, and I lunge for my laptop. My fingers fly over the keyboard.
A quick search confirms it.
Topaz can indeed be black.
My pulse is racing now, pounding behind my ears. I knew I’d heard the name of the holding company behind Golden Age somewhere before, but could it really be this? Could it really be him?
Deep inside, I already have my answer. I feel it in my bones.
What if Victor is behind the Golden Age scandal?
I start building the case again, pulling out old documents, trying to find connections, but I’m still missing something.
I jump when the phone rings again. It’s Glenn, my guy from the New York Department of State.
“Glenn,” I say, my breath coming shallow as I pick up.
“Harper, I finally got some answers,” he says. “That company you asked about? It’s a shell. Buried deep in the Cayman Islands. I had to call in a favor down there, but I got the name.”
My heart thrums in my ears.
“And?” I peep.
“A guy named Victor Pike.”
Time seems to freeze, each second suspended in the air.
I was right.
My blood turns to ice and liquid fire all at once. The pieces of the puzzle snap into place—the intimidation techniques telling me he was up to something, the threats as I went to visit my grandma. He really was on to his next scheme, only this one hit at a personal level.
I thank my guy, hang up, and sit there on the floor for a long second. My hands are trembling, breaths coming ragged as a storm of emotions whirls inside me. Shock. Satisfaction. Rage. Relief. They all crash over me at once.
I grab my phone again and call Selma.
The second she answers, the words spill from my lips. “I got him,” I nearly shout. “I know what Victor’s up to.”
“You do? Great news,” Selma says. “I was starting to worry about you.”
“How soon can you run the story?” I ask, cutting straight to the point.
“How soon can you write it?”
I glance at the clock, adrenaline buzzing through me.
“By tomorrow,” I say.
“And you have proof?”
I nod. “Plenty. I’ll write the article and bring you my findings. Then you can tell me if we run it or wait.”
“Sounds like a plan. See you tomorrow.”
I lie back on the floor, the phone clattering at my side. And for the first time in days, I almost feel alive again.