Chapter 22

Wes

Everything is going to be fine.

Bryn’s going to nail her interview.

The institute is going to be thrilled to have her.

She’s going to take the offered position, offer to apply for a different position over my desk, and then enjoy a romantic, candlelight celebratory dinner of lobster thermidor or steak tartare or maybe even bouillabaisse with me.

Dining out to commemorate the change isn’t quite in my realm yet, but perhaps soon.

Rattles from my cell begin vibrating across the desk, momentarily pulling my attention away from the word search getting the better of me.

Evie’s name and scowling face are thankfully easy to ignore.

Especially when there are more pressing things on my mind.

Like getting Bryn the proper attire for her new career.

New makeup – though I hope she doesn’t stop the blue eyeliner because it truly does make her eyes standout.

And Arkam knows there’s nothing that drives me more insane than getting lost in her mischievous gaze.

My phone starts vibrating again except ignoring it this time occurs courtesy of J.T.’s laughter from across the desk. “You’re gonna love the venue, Sully. Trust me. ”

“And dinner?” the head of our largest distillery in the country good naturedly counters. “Am I gonna love the restaurant you’ll be taking me and Cheryl to when we get into town?”

“Dai’s Steakhouse never disappoints.”

Hm.

Maybe that’s where our next outing should be.

I can have them close a bit early.

Secure a private room.

Extend our privacy agreement to cover one on one visits from me and Bryn, ultimately providing us with at least one restaurant we can leave the estate to dine at.

She’d like that.

I think… I’d like that.

Two notable raps are delivered to my closed, upstairs office door prior to it being opened by Park. “My apologies for interrupting, Wilcox,” his typically stoic demeanor slightly wavers, “but we have a problem.”

My stare briefly cuts to J.T. prompting him to immediately end the call. “We’ll be in touch again soon, Sully. Alright?”

“Of course!” Joyfulness jumps through his tone as it always does. “Tell Wes I can’t wait to hear his thoughts about our bacon and maple infusions!”

Yes.

Yes, he can.

Because they aren’t good.

And I still need time to articulate them in a professional nature.

Once the face of my company has ended the call, he kicks his chin at the head of security. “What’s goin’ on, Park?”

“Is this about Lauren?” Dropping my shark pen on top of the booklet precedes me leaning back in my seat. “Do you finally have a suspect in mind?”

“Not at this time, sir.”

“Then what is it?” J.T. pushes for him to continue in tandem with me, hitting ignore on Evie’s call again.

“The main cyber security office for Wilcox Enterprises contacted our inhouse cyber security office to report what was initially suspected to be a stolen photo-”

“Photo?” There’s no stopping my brow from furrowing. “Photo of who ?”

His pause seems to last an eternity. “ You .”

“What?!” the other male erupts and launches onto his feet. “You’re fucking kidding!”

My lips firmly press together as I do my best to remain calm.

Collected.

Chances are it’s not nearly the level of catastrophic the world is making it out to be.

It’s probably the side of my masked face or mismatched eyes captured by someone’s shitty cellphone camera while I was picking up or dropping off Bryn.

It’s most likely not worth a stroke level spike in blood pressure.

“What photo?!” shouts J.T. in tandem with grabbing the tablet he just abandoned. “Where’s it posted?!”

“ Everywhere, ” Park unhappily retorts on a step forward, his fair skinned, athletic frame fighting to remain calm. “It’s literally everywhere. ” Wisely, he doesn’t continue to approach. “Wes is trending.”

A twitched glare is given during a long, deep, groan of displeasure.

“It is the top story of every major social media outlet.”

His description further harshens my narrowed stare.

“ How is that fucking possible?! ” J.T. barks again. “And why hasn’t Pham or Evie called?! Why has no one from their department tried to make contact?!” Moving my mouth isn’t even something I have time to consider courtesy of his grunted, “ Shit. ”

I shift my attention to him and ask, “What do they have? Back of my head? Profile? Both of my eyes?”

Irrefutiable panic pierces his hazel at the same time he wordlessly meets my glare.

“ What? ” His lack of response forces me to return to Park who is struggling to keep an unmoved expression. “ What type of photo is it? ” Still receiving nothing from them both prompts me to bellow. “ Answer! Me! ”

My best friend reluctantly turns the device to display the find.

“ Th-th-that’s my face… ” The picture of Bryn kissing my mutilated cheek knocks all the air out of my lungs, turning the rest of the proclamation into practically nothing but air. “ My…whole…f-f-face… ” Disbelief collides with dread inspiring my palms to dart upward. Cover my complexion. Minimize the volume of the next exclamation. “ Fuckkkkk! ”

“How did the media get this photo, Park?” J.T. rushes to investigate. “How did they fucking steal it?! Isn’t that what all the cyber protocols are fucking for ?”

“It wasn’t stolen.”

The asinine statement shoots me to the edge of my seat. “ Of course it was fucking stolen, Park! ”

His hesitation to remain silent is instantly noted.

“There are only two fucking people with that photo!” I viciously point at it prior to roaring, “ Turn that shit off! ”

My best friend darkens his tablet, tosses it on the nearby couch, and surrenders his hands in compliance.

“Cyber investigated and concluded there was no hack. The photo was…” Park pauses to collect a breath of courage, “ sent to a media outlet from a device in our network. And upon further…examination, the email appears to have come from Miss Brynley Winters’s account.”

“ No ,” leaves J.T. before it can me.

“ There’s no fucking way, she’d do that, ” I instantly spew.

“Why would she?!” he explodes yet again. “What fucking motive would she have to post that picture? To fucking betray Wes like that?!”

“A quarter of a million dollars in total was transferred to a money app account connected to Miss Winters’s name.”

At that, any air I had managed to regain is mercilessly robbed a second time.

“And upon having a brief conversation with…someone in our department who…handles looking into a person’s finances, I can inform you that Miss Winters is in a significant amount of debt.” Park holds his head high despite the increasing amount of pressure he’s receiving. “It is a reasonable motive and conclusion to come to when considering the photo was sent from a computer on the property as well as from her personal email account. If she is indeed one of only two people who possess that photo, sir, then logic leaves us no choice, but to label her as the one who sent it.”

“She just…” my best friend shakes his head in exasperation. “There’s just…” It continues as disgust starts to take root in the pit of my stomach. “It’s not…”

Unparalleled ire drips through my veins pushing me to stand.

Slowly.

To breathe even slower.

I lock eyes with Park and ask, “Where is she?”

“ Wes ,” barely manages to escape J.T.’s lips before my cell begins vibrating again. Whatever it is he was initially going to say is swiftly swapped for something else. “Maybe you should take a pause?” He innocently gestures to the noisy machine. “Maybe answer th-”

Picking up and throwing the phone clear across the room where it smashes into the wall is instantaneously followed by a low, belligerent growling, “ Where. Is. She? ”

“Lauren’s room,” Park professional states. “She arrived home six minutes ago.”

“Tell Hill not to let her leave.”

“Yes, sir,” mumbles the head of security as I storm past him with my second in command on my heels.

How the fuck could she do this to me?!

How the fuck could I not see this was her plan all along?!

How did I let myself be so fucking blind?

So goddamn stupid?!

I have spent my entire life being trained to spot the lies, the manipulation, the shameless selling, yet I somehow missed it. I somehow let my dick the do the thinking it had no business doing.

Making decisions that are going to cost me millions to bury.

Millions to not be buried.

How many shareholders are going to want to continue their relationship with someone who looks like me ?

How many people are going to trust our product when the face behind it is as grotesque as mine?

How tarnished is my family name now?

Their legacy?

The one thing I have spent every day and every night working to fucking protect.

Getting from the main manor to the healthcare suite is a complete blur that I only know I completed because I’m the one holding the keys when I stomp inside the building.

Faint objective sounds trail behind me, but they’re ignored.

And they will continue to be ignored.

I am done letting those around me have any sort of say.

Barging past Hill into Lauren’s room, I accidentally bump into the chair he’s occupying; however, instead of saying sorry or acknowledging him in any way, I simply lock my glare onto Brynley and bite, “What do you plan to do with the money?”

She casually crosses one tanned pant covered leg over the other and playfully pokes, “Continue to fund my mascara addiction.”

Lauren snickers on a shake of her head, eyes looking through the word search they were clearly doing pre my arrival. “How about starting to fund a 401k?”

“I do not find your answer amusing , Miss Winters.”

At that, her bare arms fold defensively across her cream-colored turtleneck tank top. “And I do not find your tone becoming, Mr. Wilcox.”

“You have the audacity to pretend as though you have no idea what it is you’ve truly done.”

“There’s no pretending.” Her brow pulls tightly together in perplexity. “I have no idea what the fuck you’re talking about or better yet – given your whole Wrath of Khan vibe – what you think I’ve done.”

“ Wes, ” J.T. quietly tries to object only to be entirely ignored.

“You can drop the scam, Miss Winters.” Bitterness bulldozes itself through my expression alongside my tone. “You’ve already been paid. There’s no need to continue the performance.”

“What performance?”

“Pretending you gave a shit about me, the real me . Pretending you enjoyed learning about whiskey and comics. Pretending you were going to quit your barely above legal joke of a job for something you probably don’t actually have a fucking degree in.”

“ Excuse the fuck out of you! ” she seethes as she springs to her feet. “My degree is real! The hours I stayed up cramming bullshit into my brain for labs and oceanography finals is all real! I fucking earned that stupid piece of paper I’m just now getting a chance to use!”

“So, it was just being in love with me that wasn’t real.”

“How can you-”

“The signs were all there.” I emotionlessly shrug. “Why you pushed me to show you my face. Why you pushed me to leave the estate. Why you pushed me to take that fucking photo.” Rage rushes through my system raising my volume. “Time was fucking running out, wasn’t it?! They demanded you to deliver, didn’t they?!”

“Who the fuck are they?!”

“ Weston ,” Lauren swiftly scolds, motherly infliction striking the wrong nerve. “ I- ”

“ Not. A. Word. From. You. ” I savagely stab in her direction with a pointed finger. “ You fucking brought her here! This is your fault, too! ”

“Don’t fucking talk to my mom like that!”

“Why?! Because she was in on it?!” A new realization, a darker, uglier, much viler one propels me closer to Lauren’s bed. “Were you ever really sick or were you just making yourself sick?!” Furious huffs hit the walls of the hospital like space. “Were you purposely poisoning yourself, so I had no choice but to bring your slutty con-artist daughter under my roof!?”

“Dude!” shouts my best friend from behind me.

“Did you keep making yourself sick to bide her the time she needed to fuck me?!”

“Dude!”

“To fuck me over for that photo she got paid for?!”

“Dude!”

“ Don’t fucking call me dude! ” Tossing a glare over my shoulder is attached to another sneer. “ Get out! ”

“But-”

“ Get out of this room and go do your fucking job! ”

Consternation crosses his complexion; however, he says nothing.

Simply turns.

Retreats.

Listens …like he should’ve from the beginning.

Like everyone fucking should’ve from the beginning.

Once he’s out of sight, I shift my attention back to Brynley and snarl, “You have nothing to say, Miss Winters?”

What I won’t let myself believe are tears cascade down her cheek on a single blink. “I have nothing you’re willing to hear, Mr. Wilcox.”

An irascible filled grunt precedes my proclamation. “You will both be allotted thirty minutes to pack your things and then be escorted off the property.” After adjusting the collar to the black, short-sleeved polo, I can hardly fathom I allowed her to convince me to wear, I add. “ You can both expect a call from my attorneys in the morning. ”