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He spun around in his chair, blocking the screen. “Everyone out except for Z.Now.”
The commanding, harsh tone was one I’d never heard from him, and from the collective sharp intakes of breath, everyone else was just as shocked as I was, but I couldn’t even pay them attention as I took in the image in front of me. I vaguely registered Weston squeezing my shoulder and the door closing softly as I read, bile rising in my throat.
It was the front page of the Sunday edition of one of the biggest tabloid newspapers in the country. Right across the top, the splash proclaimed in huge block letters:
FROM RAGS TO RICHES
Then underneath, in smaller letters:
EXPOSED: THE SHOCKING INSIDE STORY OF THE ELITE HEIR
Below the headlines, there was an image of my dad and me from one of the events we’d been to, and following that was an “exclusive” tell-all from “an inside source.”
The ice around my heart squeezed, tightening, but underneath it was a river of blood. Betrayal hit me so fucking hard my head was spinning as I read the article.
It told everything. Details about my life in the council flat on the housing estate, my mum, the “seedy” underbelly of Alstone Holdings, painting my dad as a man who slept with hookers and meth addicts, and me as a poor, abused, easily manipulated child, “a pawn in his father’s sick games.” It detailed how my dad had paid my mum off, speculating that losing me had driven her to her death. They even had details of how she’d died, so they must’ve somehow managed to get hold of a copy of her death certificate. The second part of the article detailed the feud between Alstone Holdings and Hyde Consultings, speculating that I’d manipulated Fallon into what they called a “short-lived relationship” with me, preying on her “young, malleable mind” in order to gain advantages for Alstone Holdings. There was even a carefully worded insinuation that perhaps Roland Hyde was behind bars because he’d been framed. It didn’t say it in so many words—the paper wouldn’t risk getting sued, but it was heavily implied.
There was nothing about Tim’s death or the parts of my life that didn’t pertain to my dad and the connection with Fallon—which they’d reduced to me manipulating her for the sake of Alstone Holdings—but other than that, the rest of my fucking life was there, laid bare for the world to see. By tomorrow, everyone would know.
Fuck. What the fuck was I supposed to do?
And there was only one person that knew all the details and therefore only one person that could have been behind it.
How could she have done it? How could she have betrayed me like that? Why? Why would she want to draw attention to herself like that? The only thing that made any sense was that she’d done it as a form of payback for Tim. And maybe I deserved it, but this wouldn’t only affect me.
I couldn’t even swallow around the fucking lump in my throat. This betrayal hurt so fucking much. I needed…
I needed to make the pain go away.
Throwing open the desk drawers, I fumbled for something, anything. There was nothing except pens and papers.
“Fuck!” I slammed my hands down on the table. “Fuck!”
A hand clasped my shoulder firmly. I hadn’t even heard the door opening.
“Z.” Cade sank down into Weston’s vacated seat. He waited, keeping his grip on me until I lifted my head to meet his eyes. When I finally did, he blew out a heavy breath. “Can I read it?”
I closed my eyes. “Yeah.” There was no point in stopping him anyway—tomorrow, everyone would be able to read it.
“Fucking hell,” he whispered when he’d finished reading. “I don’t even know what to say.”
“That makes two of us.”
“Fuck, mate. Fuck.” He scrubbed his hand across his face. “We need to give the rest of the board a heads-up. Especially your dad—he’s gonna need to see this before the papers go live. It’s gonna blindside him otherwise.”
“I know.”
“Want me to take care of it?” His voice lowered. “I’ll take care of it for you, Z. You’re my best mate. I wish you could’ve told me about Fallon before, but I get why you didn’t. You know I’m always on your side, though, right?”
“Yeah.” The knot of pain untwisted, just a bit. I knew he was there.
“Okay. I’ll sort it. It might be too late for the headline, but I won’t let you deal with the fallout alone. You can count on me.”
Fuck. I was so fucking bad at dealing with emotion, and he knew it. My childhood hadn’t been filled with love, certainly not from my mum, and my dad had always been closed off, never the type to show physical affection, although I knew he cared about me in his own way—as long as I didn’t get in the way of his work. “Uh, thanks. Same,” I said hoarsely, and he squeezed my shoulder again before standing.
“I’m gonna go and make a few calls.” There was a weighted pause, and then he added, “Z? Don’t— If it gets too much, get hold of Mack, yeah? Get his tattoo kit set up, get him to give you some more ink. Whatever you need. Fuck it, I’ll drive you there.”
Well, shit. How much did he know? I stared up at him, lost for words, and he shook his head. “We don’t have to talk about it. But I notice things. That’s all I’m saying. And I—” He cleared his throat. “Look, I fucking care about you, mate.”
