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Greyson tilted his head, his mouth curled into a grimace of doubt. “You think Remi’s co-worker stole her notebook and wrote that story to get her fired and get the promotion?”
Ghost turned to Grey. “We talked about this. Nothing about that article made any sense.”
It wasn’t Ghost’s words that froze me to the spot, but the way his hand grazed Grey’s thigh. It wasn’t a sexual touch, but an intimate one.
I could see it then. It was clear. These two men, both of whom I loved fiercely, had formed a relationship together. Maybe it started off with a mutual grievance about that horrible hit piece, but it had grown into something more.
The looks that passed between them, the body language, and even how close they were sitting to each other all telegraphed how close they’d become. They had bonded over the suffering I’d brought upon them.
Now, I was the outsider, and it felt like a dagger in my heart. I was the outsider, not the glue that brought them together as I’d been before.
I was truly happy for them because I wanted the best for both of them. But that didn’t mean I didn’t feel a pang of jealousy. Actually, it wasn’t as simple as jealousy. It was more like an aching despair. I wanted to be a part of their relationship, but I’d lost. Even with Ghost saying he believed me, I didn’t know if I could ever be a part of what they now shared.
I choked back the tide of rising panic and sorrow. My heart strained against my ribs, battered from the maelstrom of emotions churning inside me. All I wanted was another chance, a glimpse of hope that I could make things right.
I wouldn’t give up now. I was going to fight like hell. First, I needed them to listen to my recording.
“The story I was working on was about the New Palace theater, which is supposedly haunted. Ghost Parker performed there years ago. I have all the research right here in my notebook. When Dawn published that defamatory hit piece, I sent the real story I was working on to Greyson right away. It was nothing like what was published.”
“I read it, but you could have written both.” Greyson’s voice was tinged with disappointment, cutting through me like a knife. “It doesn’t prove anything, Rems. That could have been an earlier draft that you didn’t go with because it wasn’t sensational enough. You even told me you had to up your game because Dawn was getting good scoops.”
“You’re right. I couldn’t prove anything. That’s one of the reasons I had to agree to the settlement or risk financial ruin.”
I took a deep breath, determination flooding my veins, white-hot and razor-sharp. “After I signed the settlement, I was leaving Hollywood Exposé and Dawn cornered me in the ladies’ room to gloat. I managed to record most of that conversation, and I got her to slip up.”
Talia gasped. “She confessed?”
I was so focused on Greyson and Ghost that I’d almost forgotten she and Ryder were still in the room. “It wasn’t exactly a confession, but it makes it pretty clear she was guilty.”
Ryder raised an eyebrow, glancing over at Ghost. “Okay. Let’s hear it then.”
I turned to face Ryder. “It has a lot to do with you, Ryder. And some of it may be ... painful.”
Talia had been leaning against the armrest of Ryder’s chair, but she gently slid onto his lap.
“Me?” He slid his arms around Talia’s waist and locked his fingers together in front of her.
“It’s about your cousin, Rocky.”
Talia turned her head to the side to ask Ryder, “Was he the one from the article? The one who overdosed?”
Ryder nodded and answered softly. “Yeah.”
“I found out something about him,” I started tentatively. “It’s in the notebook. I wasn’t ever planning on revealing it because it’s not necessary for anyone to ever know. I think it was a lie made up to spare the family shame or embarrassment.”
Ryder’s jaw was rigidly set. “What is it?”
I started pacing back and forth while I talked. “When I was in Ohio researching your background, I found out about your cousin’s death. I needed a ghost for the assignment, someone that died who was connected to the band in some way, and I thought the cousin might work. It was stupid to think about exploiting someone’s death like that.”
I glanced around the room, and when no one spoke, continued, “According to local media reports, your cousin died of a fentanyl overdose, which isn’t very uncommon, especially in the area where he lived. No one questioned it. Why would they?”
“You’re saying it wasn’t a fentanyl OD?” Ryder eyed me warily.
“The cause of death said nothing about drugs,” I confirmed. “In fact, your cousin didn’t die of a drug overdose at all. I’m sorry, Ryder, if this is hurting you.”
He shifted in his seat. “I wasn’t very close to Rocky. Or my aunt and uncle. What did he die of?”
I hesitated for a second. “Autoerotic asphyxiation.”
