by Shayla Black
But my heart isn’t all mush. Nia may try to talk me out of squashing the Lunds. I’m disinclined to hear reason. I’m definitely not selling them a fucking thing. They want Stratus? They’ll have to pry it out of my cold, dead hands.
I don’t give a shit that my decision will cost me a billion dollars. I’m going to do everything humanly possible to grow my business into a mega empire. I’m going to become untouchable. Nia will be at my side, helping me. So will Sebastian. Together, we’ll ensure that neither Douglas nor his shitbag son can lay a hand on the company we’ve worked so hard to build. We can grow Stratus so big I’ll be Jeff Bezos rich. Then the Lunds can go fuck themselves.
In my pocket, my phone rings. I pull it out, half expecting Nia’s name to pop up on my display. I’m hoping she’ll tell me she’s at this cafe and ask me to join her.
Instead, the caller ID indicates it’s Bethany.
What the hell? I didn’t think we’d talk until I decided Stratus’s future—if even then.
I almost don’t answer, but Nia still seems to be inside, and I can say a few words right now to make my ice queen of a biological half sister go away. Giving her what she wants is distasteful, but her wishes align with mine for the moment, so this shit is unavoidable.
“I’m not selling to Lund,” I say without any preamble or greeting. “You’re getting your wish. Congratulations.”
I expect to hear her gloating, even a chilly laugh. Instead, she sobs.
“E-everyone was right. You were right.”
Bethany sounds desolate and nearly incomprehensible. What’s going on? She rubbed me wrong when we first met…but now I can’t help responding to the pain in her voice.
“About what?”
“Barclay. He…” She stops to cry in noisy, heart-rending gasps. “He lied to me. Almost nothing he told me was the truth.”
This doesn’t surprise me nearly as much as it does her, and I don’t know why she called me, of all people. But weirdly, I feel for her. “What happened?”
“The FBI started questioning me about what I knew. When Barclay told me all the pending charges against him were a misunderstanding, I had no reason not to believe him. I told the police everything I knew. Or thought I knew. They started showing me evidence to prove Barclay had been lying to me—and everyone else—all along. He stole from those people. All of them. Their life’s savings in some instances. Without remorse. I was…shocked. And I knew I had to find answers for myself.”
She breaks down again, her jerky, stuttering breaths almost painful to hear.
“What did you do?” I prompt gently.
Compassion isn’t something I’ve exercised much in the past. But it’s softening my attitude now whether I want it to or not. Her world has fallen apart. I know that feeling.
It takes a long moment, but she manages to gather herself. “Just before he got arrested, he installed a safe in my condo. He said it was because he needed to hide things from Linda because his divorce from that bitch was getting ugly. I had no doubt he was right, so I never snooped. Until today.” She lets out a shuddering breath. “I hope you’re sitting down.”
I’m not but whatever she has to say has likely rocked her world far more than it’s going to upend mine. “Go ahead.”
“Over the years, Barclay stole money from a lot of people, including the Lunds.”
Taking money from the man and impregnating his daughter? Wow, my biological father is a real peach…
“They want to buy Stratus because they want access to Barclay’s secret account on your storage cloud network,” she goes on. “He didn’t register it under his name or email address. If he had, the feds would have already found it. I discovered the login information in his safe and accessed it. Swiss bank account numbers. Records of client funds he exchanged for precious metals and stashed in safe deposit boxes offshore… He’s got money in every form, everywhere, hidden from everyone—his wife, the IRS, the investors he swindled. If I hadn’t seen all the proof for myself, I still wouldn’t believe it. I just can’t… Oh, my god. He let me spit out one falsehood after another to clients. To the FBI. If the feds hadn’t believed me, I could have gone to prison. How could my own father betray me like this?”
She’s totally disillusioned. She’s imploding and trying not to crumble.
“I’m sorry.”
“That I was wrong?” she spits.
“That he hurt you. I grew up knowing he was an asshole. You only realized that today.”
I’m still not sure why she chose me to call, except that I have the ability to look into Barclay’s records, maybe help give the people who lost their money a chance to see some of it back.
“I’ll lock down his files for you.”
“Thank you. I’ll text you his login ID, along with the name of the FBI agent on the case.”
She’s asking me to turn her father in. Maybe she can’t bring herself to do it…or even say it. Maybe she’s still reeling too much. Whatever the reason, I respect her terrible, brave choice.
“I’ll take it from there,” I assure her. “Bethany, you’re doing the right thing.”
“I needed to hear that. I’ve devoted my entire life to that man, and some part of me still can’t believe I’m turning on him. But I’m not. He betrayed me. I just need to make everything right.” She drags in a shuddering breath. “There’s more you need to hear.”
Seriously? “I’m listening.”
“Barclay kept what he called a ‘blackmail book.’ Every dirty, hidden fact he knew about anyone and everyone he wrote down, along with details about where he heard the information and how he verified it.” She hesitates, and I hear the nerves in her voice. “He made lists of the people he could hurt most with it.”
Tension twists my stomach. “What do you know that I should?”
“Were you aware that Barclay and Lund were friends?”
“No.”
“They were, for years…until Barclay got Amanda Lund pregnant and Douglas realized his pal had stolen almost two hundred million dollars from him.”
The information shocks me…yet it doesn’t. Barclay and Douglas seem like birds of a feather. Why wouldn’t the high-rolling scumbags be buddies?
“So Lund was going to buy Stratus, get Barclay’s financial information, recoup his losses, and make a killing for himself by taking the rest of the stolen money?”
“That’s my guess. If you had to spend a billion dollars to get almost three billion in return, wouldn’t you do it?”
“If I wasn’t breaking the law and hurting people, absolutely. Fuck…” The Lunds were willing to procure and destroy my business for revenge and greed. I wish I could say I’m having trouble believing it. But I’m not.
“I’m not done yet, Evan. I’m sorry.”
Holy shit, what else could there be? “Go on.”
“Barclay knew some of the skeletons in Douglas’s closet. Lots of them, actually. For instance, he was there years ago when Lund was carrying on a torrid affair with his maid. Barclay didn’t tell Douglas’s wife at the time, even when the maid got pregnant. Douglas paid the maid off and provided financial support for the child. But thinking she might be helpful someday if Lund ever proved…difficult, Barclay kept track of Douglas’s illegitimate daughter. His bi-racial daughter. You must know who I mean.”
I freeze. Bethany can’t be right.
“You’re saying Nia…”
“Is Lund’s daughter, yes. Small world, isn’t it? I’m emailing you a picture of Nia’s original birth certificate right now.”
I open my email, find Bethany’s missive, and launch the attachment. Everything she said stabs me with the truth. Unless this is one hell of a forgery—and why would my half sister bother?—Douglas Lund really is Nia’s biological father.
Holy shit.
Here comes that debilitating grip on my lungs. I can’t quite stand upright.
I swallow and lean against the side of the cafe. “How…”
Shock has even rend
ered me unable to speak.
“How did I get my hands on this? Lund was dumb enough to give it to Barclay for safekeeping shortly after Nia was born, maybe so his wife wouldn’t find it. I don’t know. Of course, within a month Lund had paid Nia’s mother to petition the courts to have his name removed from the birth certificate. That’s why Nia’s copy says the father is ‘unknown’ instead.”
“Why didn’t Barclay threaten Lund with blackmail if he had all this information?”
“I’ll bet he did. But all these years later and after his wife’s passing, I don’t think Lund cared anymore. He just wanted his money back.”
So all this information remained in the safe. Jesus. This explains why the Lunds were so damn interested in Nia last month when they barged into my office to give me their final offer. Maybe that’s why they insisted on keeping my staff—Nia especially—on board if they bought Stratus out from under me.
“That, and revenge. Lund wanted that, too. I suspect he’s the one who tipped off the FBI. He’s the reason Barclay is awaiting trial now.”
“You’re probably right.” And even though Douglas Lund is on my shit list, I have to give him credit for doing something right.
“Do you think Nia has any idea Lund is her biological father?” Bethany asks.
“According to my wife, her mother took the secret of his identity to her grave.”
And how devastated will she be to learn that the man who contributed half of her DNA has been paying more attention to acquiring my company than to mending fences with his daughter?
“Are you sure? In one of my last conversations with Barclay, he said Lund would never have made multiple attempts to buy a company from such a resistant seller without some inside help. You know, like an ace in the hole.”
I don’t mention that the bastard tried to use Becca against me first—and would have succeeded if fate hadn’t intervened. On the other hand, Bethany may be right. And Lund continued with the lucrative offers well after Becca’s death.
Does that asshole really have someone helping him from the inside?
“What are you suggesting?”
“I would congratulate you on your recent marriage…except I think you may have married the enemy. You know, it’s funny. Given our childhoods, we had a million reasons never to trust people. But look at us being optimistic, wanting to believe and giving others our faith. You’d think we would have learned better.”
“Listen to me,” I snap. “Nia barely knows Lund. She wouldn’t help him stab me in the back.”
“You keep thinking that. I did, despite the number of people who told me Barclay is a thief, a liar, and a son of a bitch. I loved him. I never thought he would betray me like that…” She lets loose a bitter laugh. “Look in front of you, Evan. You have a new wife whose father intends to take your company from you. Tell me, has she encouraged you to sell?”
Not at first. And not that it matters. Nia wants what’s best for me. She’s been by my side for years. She loves me. I’m not letting Bethany’s subversive questions crawl in my head. “Thanks for the information. I have my marriage under control.”
“You think you can’t be betrayed by the people who should be in your corner?”
No, I know I can. Becca proved that. But Bethany is simply drowning in her own bitterness now. She doesn’t know Nia like I do.
“Is there anything else you need to tell me?” I really hope not. I’ve had enough bombshells for one day.
“That’s it.” She backs down. “I hope for your sake everything with Nia is all you hope and want it to be. Disillusionment is a bitch.”
With that, three beeps sound in my ear, telling me she ended the call.
Sighing, I pocket the phone. Her suggestions about Nia’s loyalty piss me off, but she’s in a bad place. Maybe, after time passes, I’ll reach out to her again. Maybe she’ll want to meet the rest of our siblings and she’ll see that we’ve all suffered at Barclay’s hands but still managed to come out happy. I think she’ll need some hope.
Right now, I need to see my wife. I have to decide if I should tell her. No, when. She deserves the truth about her biological father. I can’t keep that information from her. I don’t know how she’ll take it. I don’t know how much it will matter to her. But that’s for her to decide. All I can do is hold her and be supportive.
Dragging in a steadying breath, I shove the door to the cafe open and glance around. The place is largely empty. There’s a busboy cleaning up the last of the lunch rush. I see a hostess wiping down menus. A waiter hustles across the room with a carafe of coffee to an elderly couple a few feet away, holding hands. My day is shit, but their affection still makes me smile.
Until I catch sight of Nia in the far corner. And I realize she’s not alone.
Nia stands with Stephen Lund, that male-model wannabe, next to a table piled with discarded dishes and half-empty iced tea glasses. Apparently, they just finished a cozy lunch.
Motherfucking son of a bitch. What is he doing in town? What is he doing with Nia?
Then he reaches for her. My wife is letting the jackass hug her? Yes. She’s standing on her tiptoes, arms around him, totally returning the gesture. Like he’s a friend. No, like he’s her brother—and she knows it. Lund junior gives her a brotherly pat between the shoulder blades and murmurs something in her ear.
What the hell is going on?
Dread weighs heavily inside me. Suspicion races through my veins.
I sidle closer and hide behind a column in the middle of the room. This feels wrong. Vaguely, I’m aware that if I trust Nia, I should simply approach her and ask for an explanation. On the other hand, nothing about this meeting looks good—or right. Since when is she friendly with Stephen Lund? Last time they met, she seemed almost eager to get away from him.
At least that’s what she wanted me to think.
I shove down my distrust. I don’t know for certain what they’re talking about. Maybe it has nothing to do with me or Stratus. Maybe today’s bombshells and Bethany’s voice in my head are messing with me. Maybe Nia isn’t plotting to stab me in the back at all.
“We can make this work,” Lund says.
“I hope you’re right.” She sounds nervous but upbeat.
He gives her hand a reassuring squeeze. “I am. I’ve given this a lot of thought. It’s for the best. For everyone.”
“I’m not sure Evan will see it that way.”
“But this is for you, for your future. Don’t forget that.”
She nods. It’s hesitant at first, then the gesture builds steam. “You’re right. I can’t have everything I want if I don’t do this.”
“Exactly.” He gives her a peck on the cheek. “Call me if you need anything. I’ll be more than happy to talk you off the ledge, like a good big brother should.”
“Thanks. That means a lot to me.”
They say their goodbyes and leave via the door on the far side of the room, never seeing me. I watch them go, dumbfounded.
Denial fights with common sense. I don’t know precisely what that exchange was about. It could be anything, and I shouldn’t jump to conclusions. But it’s fucking hard not to. My new wife is meeting with Lund Junior in the middle of our negotiations. And they just happen to be siblings. Who knew? They look pretty damn close, too. She’s thinking about her future and she’s prepared to act, even if I won’t like it. Logically, there are only so many things that could mean.
The most obvious is that they’re plotting to sell me out.
Clenching my fists at my sides, I storm toward the door, ducking under a waiter carrying a food-laden tray, and crash outside. Nia and her car are already gone.
Fuck.
Throwing myself into my sedan, I slam the door and burn rubber out of the parking lot. I’m going to find her and demand she tell me I’m wrong.
My righteous anger simmers just under a rolling boil. I try to tamp it down, tell myself to ask questions before I hurl accusations. But if she’s up to what I suspect sh
e is? How fucking dare she stab me in the back. I opened up for her. I trusted her. I defended her. I gave my heart to her.
As I reach Nia’s cottage, I see her car parked in its usual spot. Good. We need to have this out. I’d rather do it in private.
In my pocket, my phone buzzes. I pull it free as I step from the car and glance at the screen. Nia sent me a text. What ironic timing…
Can you come home? There’s something we need to talk about.
Pocketing my phone again, I charge up toward her house. Yeah, hers. It’s not our temporary digs anymore. We don’t have any home together, not if she’s going to even consider betraying me.
I could forgive Becca for her treachery because I didn’t give her what she needed. I took her for granted. I gave her a name and a house—and nothing more. Sure, her plot was twisted, cold, and shitty. But on some level, I understand.
With Nia, I’m confused as fuck. What have I not given that woman? She has my name and my love. Hell, she has my fucking soul. Know what I don’t have? A prenuptial. Yep. She talked me out of it at the last minute, made it seem as if tearing it up was a grand romantic gesture on my part to prove how much I loved her so we could be truly happy on our wedding day.
And I was such an idiot. I totally fell for it.
Has she been laughing these last nine days, since I took her hand, promised to love, honor, and cherish her, then said “I do?”
God, none of this makes sense. Nia has never been a liar. If anything, she’s always been wincingly straightforward with me. Why would she start all this subterfuge and lying now? And how long has she known she was Lund Junior’s sister? Maybe the answer to my previous question matches the answer to my last. I don’t know anymore. I’m so confused. And I’m afraid I won’t like the truth. There’s a gaping hole in my chest. I’m twisted up by the terrible, wrenching hope that all my suspicions are wrong. But my head is telling me I can’t be.
When I reach the door, I shove it open to see Nia standing at the kitchen table. Her moving boxes are stacked neatly against one wall. She looks tired but excited. And decidedly nervous.
