Chapter 93

I was shocked out of my slumber by the faint sound of a phone vibrating. The penthouse windows let in the morning light, which softly and warmly brushed the edges of the furnishings. The intensity of the night before had left my body feeling tired and heavy.

The quiet was broken once more by the harsh, persistent buzz. I looked around. Isabella felt for her phone on the nightstand as she sat up next to me, the covers slipping from her shoulders. Her lips tightened in a way that was difficult to notice, and her brows wrinkled as she looked at the screen.

"Is everything all right?" My voice was gravelly from sleep when I asked.

She quickly swung her legs off the bed and replied, "It's fine." Her tone was contemptuous, almost rehearsed.

I watched as she grabbed her clothes and lifted myself up onto one arm. "Are you already leaving? I thought you were off today."

For a moment, she stopped with her back to me. Something surfaced. Work.

Her actions were rigid and purposeful, but the answer made sense enough. She buttoned her shirt, avoiding my eyes.

I leaned back against the headboard and whispered, "That's right. I wouldn't want to hold you up."

With one hand on the door handle, she paused. She opened it and slid out without saying another word, although for a second, I feared she might say something more.

In the quiet that followed, I heard the door click shut.

I stayed in bed for a little longer, feeling uneasy as I stared at the ceiling. I was troubled by Isabella's abrupt exit, not just because of what it suggested but also because it was another thing that didn't feel quite right.

After a while, I dragged myself out of bed. As I made my way to the kitchen, the apartment felt chilly, the gleaming floor cool underfoot. Leaning on the counter, I poured a cup of coffee, its flavor bitter.

As I sipped the warm drink, my thoughts raced. Differences. I had been bothered by that term for days.

I put the mug down and went to the living room to grab my laptop. Ben had emailed me the protected files weeks ago, and I opened them, going through the information once again.

At first, the figures looked to be reliable. However, upon closer study, the patterns didn't add up. The gaps were small at first, but they became more noticeable the further I dug. Illogical money movements were happening. They were brokering deals without my agreement.

Gerard's prints were found in nearly all of the strange transactions.

I tapped my fingers against the laptop's edge while tightening my jaw. It was more than just skimmed earnings if Gerard was influencing the deals. This was about control, about trying to undermine Victor and me.

The stifling quiet was broken as I slammed the laptop shut. I muttered, "Damn it, Gerard."

What could I do, though? Pulling away now would make me seem weak, or worse, disrespectful. Confronting him without hard proof would be irresponsible.

By the end of the morning, the strain was unbearable. My phone buzzed as I paced the living room. Victor Alvarez was listed on the caller ID.

As I swiped to answer, my gut tensed. "Winner."

He spoke in his cool, smooth voice. "Good morning, Ethan. I assume you've heard the news?"

I scowled. "What's new?"

Victor gave a little laugh, but it lacked any humor. "Gerard. He's been reminded of his position."

A shiver ran through my body. "What did you do?"

Victor's tone was almost casual as he continued, "Nothing permanent. Just a quick reminder. For now, he's still breathing."

I gripped the phone tighter. I didn't take Victor's words lightly. Gerard wasn't the only one involved. I was the subject of this. This was about telling me what happens when you betray someone.

I murmured softly, "I didn't ask for this."

"You didn't," Victor agreed. "But Ethan, loyalty comes at a cost. You'd be wise to remember that."

I stared at the screen in stunned silence as the call ended.

I wanted someone to talk to, someone who could lead me and help me sort this mess out.

I called Ben. The phone rang several times before he answered.

"Ethan," he said in a guarded tone. "What's going on?"

I paced the living room and said, "We need to talk. In person. It's crucial."

There was a pause. "Right now? I'm kind of stunned. Can it wait?"

"It can't," I yelled. "Ben, I can't handle this alone."

His hesitation was clear. "Later, I'll try to make some time. But you'll have to manage for now."

I stopped moving, frustration taking over. "Ben, what the hell is going on? You've been absent."

"Don't be ridiculous," he answered sharply, a new edge to his voice.

"If you have something to say, say it," I urged. "Please don't leave me hanging."

"You're dreaming," Ben said quickly. "Look, Ethan, I've got to go. We'll talk later."

I stood there with the phone still pressed to my ear as the line went dead.

The rest of the day was a blur. I tried to focus on my work, but my mind kept returning to Gerard, Ben, and Victor. A constant discomfort and strain in my chest wouldn't go away.

I poured a glass of whiskey and sat in the leather recliner near the window as twilight fell. The bright, glittering city lights below me stood in stark contrast to the tempest building inside my mind.

Once more, my phone buzzed. It was a text message this time.

"Ethan, you're playing a risky game. Loyalty is insufficient. Carefully consider your next move."

There was no name, but it was clear.

Victor.

It was clear: I was replaceable.

Without touching the whiskey, I set the glass down and looked out at the city. There was very little room for error, and the stakes had never been greater.

For the first time in a long while, I was truly frightened.