Millie, of all people. I knew she’d been stretched thin—always chasing a lifestyle she couldn’t afford. But this?
The bass outside rattles the walls, dragging me back. I run my fingers through my hair.
“I’ve gotta go,” I mumble.
Seb watches me for a second. “You okay?”
No. Not even close.
But I lie. “Yeah.”
I hang up before I change my mind. Slip the phone into my bag. And breathe.
Not deep. Not steady. But enough.
Then I straighten, fix my lipstick, walk back out into the noise, and join Sally and Rory at the center of the dance floor. I’ve spent too long being anxious. Too long blaming myself for all my imagined failures.
Because no matter how much the betrayal stings, I can walk through Knighwell’s door with my head held high.
But if there’s one thing I know about Chase.
This isn’t over yet.
Chapter thirty
Chase
Bethany adjusts her glasses, squinting at her iPad, reciting today’s agenda.
“You’ve got the morning blocked off for the Nexora team from London. With that in mind, I booked a private dining suite at Leontis for 7 p.m. Their secretary confirmed they’ll be delighted to attend dinner.”
“Good,” I murmur, smiling to myself.London.So she went, after all.
She only mentioned it once—how she’d always wanted to go.
I remember because it stung, hearing her talk about leaving.
She’ll probably hate that I dragged her all the way back here.
Then again, she probably already hates me. With good reason, I let her down.
That won’t happen again.
When I mentioned the possible investment to Austen, he didn’t question it—just raised an eyebrow.
Then he read the report.
Didn’t take long before the lines on his forehead smoothed out, and that quiet, calculating focus of his kicked in.
That’s when I knew he’d seen it—the architecture, the elegance in the logic, and the kind of precision you don’t fake.
“This has Violet’s fingerprints all over it. It’s brilliant,” he said.
He wasn’t wrong.
I zone out as Bethany lists the rest of the day’s activities. There is only one event I care about today. Violet. I grab my suit jacket, eager to get moving.
“Erm...,” Bethany says as I stride to the door, hesitation in her tone, the one she always uses when she fears upsetting me.
