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I let them down half their drinks before I started talking.
“Miller has been cyberstalking and harassing a couple who run a business blog in Tennessee for the last six months.”
Elliot put his glass down on the table. “Fuck.”
Weston rubbed the deep line between his brows. “Why the hell has he been doing that?”
I shrugged, but my shoulders were too heavy to lift far. “This is all information I’m getting from the investigator, who’s been in contact with the detective working on the case. Theresa and Albert Graves run the Grave Business Report.”
Elliot frowned. “I’ve never heard of it.”
“Neither have I,” Weston agreed.
“That’s because only a few thousand people read it. I have no fucking clue how Miller found it, but the Graves’ published a few scathing articles about Rossi’s quarterly earnings report and the fluctuation of our stock prices. They had some things to say when I took over as CEO, but, hell, so did a lot of other journalists. I don’t know why Miller picked this blog to become obsessed with, but he did.”
Weston shoved his fingers through his hair. “What did he do exactly?”
“The harassment started with their email address being subscribed to things like the Satanic Temple, Nashville Kink Night, the Green Party…stupid, annoying shit. But annoying in the sense that they were bombarded day after day. And it didn’t stop there. The anonymous social media threats were next.Shut down or go down,basically. Then he doxxed their address online. He listed it for free puppies, on hookup sites, as the host of a swingers’ party…and people were showing up at their door.”
“Jesus,” Elliot uttered. “Is he really that stupid?”
I shook my head. “I don’t know what was going through his mind. Maybe he snapped, had a mental break. I don’t give a damn. He terrorized these people. When Clara finds out—”
Weston clamped a hand on my shoulder. “When she finds out, you’ll be there for her.”
“She’s having his baby in less than a month.” My head fell, even heavier than my shoulders. “He sent them a pig fetus. Dead rats. Insects. But the worst part…the very worst part—he had a funeral arrangement delivered to the husband. And the following day, he sent him a book calledLife After the Death of a Spouse. This couple is in their sixties. The detective said the husband had to be hospitalized with an irregular heartbeat due to the stress of all this. Miller could have really killed this man.”
Weston blew out a heavy breath. “Holy hell. I know he’s never been your favorite person, but this is next level.”
“He wasn’t my favorite person because I thought he was bland, not psychopathic.” I raised my head even though there was a knife lodged in my skull. “I don’t have any idea what the next step is. What am I supposed to do? There’s no manual on this.”
Elliot swirled his drink, the ice clinking. Of the three of us, he was the least ruffled, but that was Elliot. His way of showing he cared was coming in, taking care of what needed to be taken care of in the smoothest way possible, and always being there like an unmovable mountain.
“I’ll put you in touch with a crisis team. Rossi will need a plan on the corporate level. Trust them to implement one for the company. On a personal level, I don’t doubt you’ll handle it. Be there for Clara. Take care of anything she needs without question.”
Weston nodded along with what Elliot was saying. “And in the dustup, don’t neglect Saoirse and your relationship. No matter how big the crisis, you can’t put that on hold. Let her be there to lean on.”
Weston spoke from experience. When Andes had gone through a crisis, he’d put his complete focus into fixing it, leaving Elise alone in the dark. I wouldn’t repeat his mistakes.
I had a rough road ahead of me. When this went public, all hell was going to break loose. My only hope was to keep it quiet for as long as we could.
“Us too,” Elliot said. “Anything you need, contacts you require, we’re here. You’re not handling this alone, even if it feels like it.”
“I know I’m not.” I swallowed the thick lump in my throat. “Never once have I not felt you at my back.”
Elliot lifted his chin. “Good. Don’t doubt it.”
Saoirse was waiting for me with her arms open when I arrived. I fell into them, into her, clutching her like the only buoy in the center of a maelstrom at sea. Neither of us could control how badly we would be battered, but if I held on to her, I’d see the other side of this.
I was sure of that to my bones.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
“I know, pretty girl.”
Her fingers curled into the back of my shirt. “Tell me how to make it better for you.”
Heaving an exhale, I rolled my forehead on hers. “You’re doing it. All the ugly is waiting for me, but it doesn’t weigh as much right now. That’s all you. Stay with me.”
