Ten months earlier

One more contract, and then we just have to get the land converted to residency. The last name on the list is Morgan & Summers, a realtor company although they also do investments and developing. They’ll be the hardest to sell since they’re competition.

I rap my knuckles against the maple door of the owner’s office. I expected Howard Morgan, but the man who opens the door doesn’t look a damn thing like him.

He’s tall and young with thick blond hair cropped short, not the old man who’s owned the company for nearly fifty years. That man I was ready to sell the proposition to; no children and retirement within sight. I could have had him signing the papers within the hour.

Two green eyes narrow at me as the man holds out his hand for a firm shake. As soon as I slip my hand into his, a polite gesture, the man puts his other hand on top and smiles.

“Mason Thatcher,” he says as he holds the handshake.

My brows bunch and my muscles coil. “You have me at a disadvantage,” I say politely although my voice is low. “I was expecting Mr. Morgan.”

The man releases me, the smile still on his face. He gestures for me to enter, and closes the door as I do just that. It doesn’t escape my attention that there are two desks in the large open office. One on each side of the room, mirroring each other, both large dark wood, shining with a fine polish.

I was under the impression that Mr. Summers has stepped down. Apparently someone else has stepped up.

The windows are floor-to-ceiling, filling the room with bright light. It’s new, modern and it’s just then that I realize changes have definitely been made to this company that haven’t been made public yet. And that could fuck up this sales pitch.

“Jace Anderson,” the man says as he straightens his tie and takes a seat at the desk on the right. My blood chills as the name registers.

Jace Anderson. I stand there for a moment, my grip on the briefcase tightening as I struggle to comprehend how I’m in a room with this man.

He’s the other man Avery slept with. The other man she blackmailed. The man who knocked her up.

My eyes dip to his hand as he picks up a manila folder and opens it. His wedding ring is in plain sight.

My heart rate speeds up, but I move quickly to take the seat and pretend like I have no idea who he is. I don’t know what he knows. I sweep my hand over the back of my neck, hating how my collar suddenly feels tight. I look anywhere but in his eyes.

My father had her murdered Jace’s child included. It’s all I can think about as the man speaks about terms and how he’ll be handling the deal from here on out.

He doesn’t seem to know. If he has any idea about how Avery died, he must not know my involvement. Not that I knew about anything until it was over. I know she was killed and I have good reason to believe my father was involved. I don’t have the fucking balls to ask him. He told me about her blackmail attempt, and I know he wouldn’t have sat by and done nothing. But that baby wasn’t mine. It was Jace’s all along.

“Mr. Anderson,” I say and clear my throat and stand abruptly. I can’t sit in the same room as him, caught off guard and thinking about what happened and the unfortunate connection between us.

“Forgive me, but I need to reschedule.” Anderson stands up with me, fastening the bottom button of his suit jacket. “I do apologize,” I tell him evenly.

His brow bunches as he looks away from me. “You weren’t expecting me, I take it?” he asks.

I shake my head once, holding his gaze. “I wasn’t.”

He scratches the side of his neck casually before asking, “It’s not because of the redhead?”

His question catches me off guard once again. Avery. I still from his question, my heart racing a mile a minute, although on the outside I’m cool and collected.

“When I told him I’d pay for half, I didn’t mean right then and there.” He shrugs, not looking at me, but staring out of the window as he shoves his hands into his pockets. “I’ll pay him,” he says and looks at me with a grin on his face, “when I feel like it.”

Adrenaline races through my blood and every hair on my body stands on end. Pay for the hit?

“Is that so?” I mutter beneath my breath. Money for the hit. He knows. That’s the only logical thing that makes sense. Here he is smiling and withholding payment for a hit on his mistress.

“When did he ask you?” I ask him evenly only to get more information from this prick before my anger gets the best of me. I need to know who he is, and I need to make sure I’m hearing this right.

“I mean, I knew before it happened, but your old man didn’t tell me when.” The smile dips from his face for only a moment. “If he hadn’t joked about waiting till she’d told my wife, I’d be more… amenable.” My old man. No. I grit my teeth and suffer through keeping eye contact with this asshole.

“Told your wife what?” I ask him, and the lie in my voice comes out so naturally even I believe it. “About the baby or the affair?” It’s as if I’m truly curious and not disgusted in the least.

“Does it matter which?” he says easily, moving back to his desk and taking a seat. “Like I said, I’ll pay him when I decide to. If you decide to hold up business, that makes no difference to me. We’ll find a different developer. There are plenty that want this property.”

What I want to do is beat the shit out of him.

I give him a tight smile and reply, “You’ll hear from me soon.” I move toward the door, each step harder and harder to take. I’m only able to manage my anger because I know what I’m going to do as soon as I get to the parking lot.

I’ll watch which car is his. I’ll follow him. And I’ll make him pay for what he did.

None of these assholes care who they hurt along the way. Him, my father. All these high-powered pricks I deal with every goddamn day. Life means nothing to them. They get away with murder and corruption, never paying for their sins. But Anderson… he’ll pay for it.

Avery made a grave mistake, but so did he.

You can’t cut the breaks in a swift, clean stroke. It has to look natural; there’s a technique to making it look like it was an accident.

I didn’t even think twice.

Yes, I killed her piece of shit husband. I set him up to die, and I don’t give a damn that it happened exactly how I wanted.

The bastard had it coming to him, but Jules was never supposed to find out.

Someone knows. The knowledge brings a chill to my body. Someone knows what I did. It’s been ten months. So much time has passed, and yet they’ve said and done nothing.

I hold Jules closer to me as I drag her up the stairs. The shock is over, and now her instincts are kicking in. Her nails dig in and scratch me as she flails in my arms. She kicks out, hitting the banister and knocking me backward into the wall of the stairwell.

I grip her tighter, shaking her slightly and pinning her small body still between me and the wall. “Stop!” I scream at her. She whimpers, cowering as her tears trail down her face and soak into my shirt.

It fucking destroys me that she knows. I’ll fix this. I don’t have any other choice but to make this right. I can’t let her go.

Her shoulders shake as I take another two steps up before she’s at it again.

This doesn’t change a damn thing... Jules is still mine.