I got you what I could, but it’s not much,” Frankie said, holding out the envelope to me. Frankie stood in the living room of her brownstone. The envelope still felt like it would be a push toward something I didn’t know if I wanted anymore.

Frankie’s fuzzy bunny slippers were exchanged for a pair of purple dragon ones, complete with tiny sparkly wings. Her place was littered with things from our past. The life before I was the Boardroom Bastard, when I was just a stupid kid trying to fit in. A framed picture of me jumping on her back made me crack a smile. There was a copy of one of the video games she played for nearly two months straight sitting on her mantel. Then there was one item that caught my eye. Small and weathered all these years later, but it was here. I peered over at Frankie, who was staring me down. Her look teetered more on the edge of concern, not annoyance like it usually did.

“Are you finally ready to stop living in the past?” Frankie asked, putting the envelope on her lap.

“Are you?” I asked, pointing at a pressed flower on her bookshelf. To anyone else it was just that, but I knew where it was really from. Her corsage from the one and only date she had with Grim. She glanced up at the shelf and her cheeks turned beet red.

“That doesn’t have anything to do with this.”

“Just tell me what happened with Grim.”

“I’ll tell you what happened with Grim if you let me burn this envelope,” she said, her fingers wrapped around it.

I stared at the envelope for a long time and she shook it at me. Part of me wished I’d never asked her to help me. Never started down this path, but I couldn’t let it go. I couldn’t stop until there was vengeance for Beth. I knew something had gone wrong. Her death wasn’t an accident.

“If you don’t want it,” she said, leaning back in her chair. I snatched it from her hand and slid the papers out. Black lines covered most of the document. It had been redacted. But there was one piece of information in there and it was enough. Place of death. “Route”—that word stuck out at the beginning of the description.

“Where’s the rest?”

“That’s all they had.” She leaned back against her couch, tapping her phone against her thigh.

“I need it all, Frankie,” I said, rubbing my sweaty palms on my pants.

“Killian, I don’t know if you want to do this. What good does it do? It doesn’t bring her back.”

“Closure, Frankie. If I can see what really happened I’ll finally have some closure.” I knew she’d do it if she thought maybe I could finally put this to bed. If seeing it all in black and white would change things for me.

“I’ll see if I can find the un-redacted version. Do you still want me to do this?” she asked, her leg bouncing up and down.

“Yes” I said, crushing the paper in my grip. Frankie let out a weary sigh and nodded her head.

Rhys had told everyone she died in their apartment. A fall. A tragic fall in the bathroom. Seeing the word “Route” on the paperwork told me differently. It told me he was covering something up. Covering up his own misdeeds, for which Beth had paid the price.

He got to go on with his life like nothing was wrong. Like he and his family hadn’t had a hand in what happened to her. What happened to Allan. What happened to me. I’d been the only one to make it out unscathed and I was going to make sure he got to feel the heat of the fire.

* * *

At the gala, I stood at the balcony doors staring at Melanie, Rhys’s nanny. She was out there in the cold, all on her own. I typed out a reply to Rachel, letting her know she would be meeting me at my apartment later. I needed to see her tonight. I’d waited long enough. I opened the balcony door, slipping out there to speak to the nanny, Melanie Bright. He couldn’t even be original. Moving onto the nanny after the death of his wife. She was beautiful. Her exposed back would have normally been a target for me, but not when I knew I had Rachel waiting for me. When I thought about her, all other women paled in comparison. Her cute glasses and frizzy hair, everything she did to downplay her beauty didn’t work on me. But Melanie didn’t know that and neither did Rhys.

Rhys showed me just how little control he had when he stormed toward me after seeing me out on the balcony with Melanie. Had I come on a little strong? Perhaps, but I wanted to get his attention and I had. It was also fun to see the shocked looks on the faces of the gala attendees after their precious dear Rhys Thayer reared back and punched me. The cracks in him were beginning to show and I couldn’t wait to expose them to everyone. I licked the blood that congealed on my lip, feeling a sharp sting where it had split.

I liked the pain. It reminded me of my mission. Of what I needed to concentrate on. That focus became much more difficult at the knock on my door. My stomach did a flip and I bit back a curse. What was I going to do about this woman? I’d sent Rachel a text just after my run in with Rhys. I knew he wouldn’t stay long after rescuing Melanie from the big bad wolf, so Rachel would be relieved of duty in short order.

I opened the door and ushered her inside. Her eyes were wide with concern as she stepped inside and took in my appearance.

“Oh my god, what happened to your lip?” she asked, grabbing my chin and tilting my head down to inspect it. She fussed over me, going to the freezer to get a handful of ice. The cold helped soothe my lip as she put the ice wrapped in a kitchen towel to my lip.

Rachel dragged me over to the couch and sat beside me. “Why are you in a tux?” she asked, finally looking at more of me than just my lip. My disheveled tux jacket was thrown over the back of the couch and my undone tie hung around my neck.

“I was out tonight. At a gala,” I said, staring directly at her. Waiting for her response. Her face was so expressive. I’d learned that in and out of the bedroom. And then it clicked. She gasped.

“You went to the gala?” she asked, dropping the ice, shock written all over her face. I grabbed it from her and held it back to my lip.

“Yes.”

“What? Why? Were you invited?”

“No, I requested a last-minute invitation.”

“Why?” she said, her eyebrows scrunched together.

“Because Rhys was going to be there,” I said, matter-of-factly.

“How did you know that?” she whispered.

“Because you told me,” I said, my eyes boring into hers. She had to know any information she gave me wasn’t going to be our little secret. There was a reason we were doing this. There was a reason for all of it. It was strictly business with a little fun drizzled on top.

I had to keep telling myself that. Repeating it over and over again, or I’d forget just like it seemed she had. Didn’t she know what this was? Wasn’t she playing that game too? I couldn’t let myself feel more. It wasn’t possible. I had a plan. My mom’s words to me, scrawled on the letter I hadn’t been able to bring myself to look at for years, but the words were branded on my brain. I couldn’t get caught up in the web she wove, no matter how tempting.