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"If you had anything to do with this, Lucas, you better believe I'll find the proof and take you down."
My laugh vibrated my chest. "Good luck with that."
Spinning on my heel, I strode out of the conference room, hoping that this was the last I'd ever see of these three. Just as Jessie's mask had dropped, so had mine. Except my mask had blinded me from the truth before me.
I'd spent all this time catering to the likes of Jessie Isaacs, planning a future career that would have permanently linked me to this toxicity.
I didn't approve of Olive committing crimes to provide for her daughter, but the dishonesty in that paled compared to what Carter and Jessie had done and were planning to do. They were immoral, whereas Olive's intentions were good.
I'd been dishonest to her, but even worse, I hadn't fought for her, not like I should have.
That was going to change.
She might still turn me away, refuse to see me, keep Claire from me, but I had to try with all I had. I had to know that I'd given her two clears paths.
Then she could decide. And only then, if she still didn't choose me, would I finally accept that I would no longer be part of her life.
Even if that happened, I would never stop fighting for Claire.
I raced back to my Penthouse, but as I threw the door open, my heart plummeted. Two things were abundantly clear. Olive and Claire not only weren't here, but Olive had planned this ahead of time, even before she'd shown up for the press conference.
The closets were empty, except for the newer stuff I'd bought her. She'd taken everything she'd brought with her when she arrived—and nothing more. But seeing all of the toys I'd bought for Claire laying there hurt most.
Where were they?
Any attempt to find that out was pointless. My calls to Olive went straight to voicemail. I paced my apartment, fielding calls from reporters, from Jessie, from my publicist. But the one person I wanted to hear from was the one person not calling me.
Then a text popped up on my phone. It was from Adam.
Can you come over?
Fuck. I froze, staring at the text. How could I have missed that? Of course, she would have gone to Adam's.
I didn't wait for a driver this time. I had a sports car—an extremely fast one—for a reason. Grabbing the keys to the Porsche, I bolted out of my apartment and sprinted for the garage.
Adam's townhouse was normally a thirty minute drive away, but I arrived in less than fifteen. It was by pure luck that I hadn't gotten pulled over. I banged on the front door and was a second way from calling out their names when the lock flipped.
I had expected Olive to be standing on the other side, but Adam appeared alone.
Wrinkles pressed into his forehead and his shoulders were so tense that they were almost up to his ears.
"What's going on?" I gasped. "Where is she? Olive? Is she here?"
Adam rubbed his face and blinked, his sigh endless. He tightened his jacket around him and stepped onto the front steps, closing the door behind him.
He pressed his forehead into his hand. "Fuck."
"Jesus? What, Adam? Are they here?"
Adam's hands fell to his sides. "I thought maybe she was with you."
I shook my head. "I'm sorry, what? I'm confused. I thought you told me to come here because they're here."
"Olive was here," Adam said, slipping his hands in his pocket. "And then she left."
My heart skipped. "To where?"
"I was hoping you would know," Adam said. "She just came here, super emotional, holding back tears, and said she’d made a mistake."
