“You look nervous.”
Do I? Do I look like I’m not thrilled to be featured in a true crime documentary? “I’m fine.”Will that be what goes on my tombstone? “Cybil Langford—She’s fine.”
“I won’t waste your time. You aren’t who I thought you were.”
The room seems to tilt.
My pulse jackhammers against my rib cage. I don’t move. I don’t blink.
“You’ve been working for me long enough for me to notice your behavior. The way you handle my business. Your discretion. Commitment. You’ve never given me reason to question your loyalty.”
I keep my expression smooth. Measured. Internally, I’m halfway to planning an escape route that ends with me diving into the lake and faking my death just to stay alive.
He’s still looking at me. Waiting. Letting the silence get to me.
It’s working.
“But I have to let you go,” he finally says.
I flinch. “You’re firing me?”
“Yes, effective immediately.”
If I wasn’t already sitting, I’m pretty sure my knees would’ve buckled from underneath me. I should be relieved, jumping for joy, but this has thrown a giant wrench in the plan to get to Ramirez’s laptop. “May I ask what I did?”
“I have paid you for the rest of the year.” He reaches for a piece of paper and hands it to me. “If there’s anything else you need, a recommendation, I will help you in any way I can.”
I look at the amount written on the check. My breath catches. “Sir, that’s double my salary.”
“Take that and go on a long vacation or start fresh somewhere new. It doesn’t matter, but you need to leave, Cybil. Disappear. Tonight, if you can.”
I raise my chin. “Excuse me?”
He takes a breath like it’s heavier than the words he’s about to say. “It’s my fault. I should’ve seen it coming. Should’ve shielded you. But I failed. I couldn’t even protect my own son.”
“Sebastian?”
Mr. Edmond nods, bitterness edging his voice. “He launched a crypto venture two years ago. Thought he’d landed the perfect investor with Lorenzo, but what he found was a viper in a tailored suit. I didn’t know how dangerous Ramirez was until it was too late. I should’ve done more to keep Sebastian safe.”
“What’s happened?”
Mr. Edmond’s gaze drifts toward the lake, eyes shadowed with regret. “Lorenzo preyed on Sebastian’s ambition—on his need to succeed without me looking over his shoulder. He’s always been so determined to break free of the label put on him. That he’ll never be more than my shadow.”
It’s not the emotion in Mr. Edmond’s voice that hooks me—it’s the words.
Break free of the label.
That small, loaded phrase cuts deeper than I expect. Because I knowexactly what it feels like to wear a label that sticks no matter how hard you try to scrub it off.
All my life, I’ve believed I had to prove I wasn’t unstable. That I wasn’t reckless or irresponsible or doomed to fall apart like the mother I grew up raising. That the only way anyone would take me seriously—or love me—was if I could show them I was built on control, structure, success.
And worse, I believed Ben thought that too. Just a few careless words, but they wrapped around me like a second skin. Until today. When Ben didn’t just tell me I was wrong, but showed me. With his actions. His faith. The way he looked at me like I was already everything I kept trying to prove. The whole time I blamed him for a label he never gave me—but one I gave myself.
The thought barely has time to settle before Mr. Edmond’s voice pulls me back to the present.
“Lorenzo used Sebastian’s company as a front to wash cartel funds—millions. By the time I uncovered the truth, it was too late.” He turns back to me, and for the first time, I see Earl Edmond the father—not the CEO, not the strategist, just a man carrying the weight of watching his son get played. “I’ve been trying to fix it. Quietly. Liquidating my own assets, looking for someone else to step in and take over the deal so I can get Sebastian as far away from Lorenzo and his crimes as possible. But I wasn’t careful enough. Ramirez noticed. And now he’s watching everyone more closely”—his eyes settle on me—“including you.”
It hits me then. Mr. Edmond didn’t bring me here to confront me. Or kill me. He doesn’t know who I am. Not really. Or what I’ve been doing. I should be relieved, but for one brief, disorienting second, I feel guilty.
