I stood up from the rock and walked back to the house, already doing the math. Edinburgh to Heathrow, Heathrow to JFK. I could be in New York by tomorrow afternoon.
Dex’s car was in the drive.
He was leaning against the bonnet with his arms crossed and a look on his face I’d seen maybe three times in ten years. The look that meant something had gone very wrong and he’d driven four hours to deliver the news in person because a phone call wouldn’t be enough.
“Whatever you’re here for, I don’t have time,” I said. “I’m booking a flight to New York.”
Dex didn’t move. “Inside,” he said. “You’re going to want to sit down.”
The career was burning.
Dex laid it out at the kitchen table. Red Bull gone. Patagonia reassessing. North Face wanting a meeting, which meant they wanted to end it in person so they could feel good about themselves. The travel app pulling pre-roll ads. The energy drink deal dead before the ink was dry. Three podcast interviews cancelled. The adventure festival in Norway had pulled my keynote.
“You need to get back to work,” Dex said. “Now. Not next week. Not when you feel ready. Now. Before there’s nothing left to come back to.”
“I’m not going back to work. I’m going to New York.”
“To do what?”
“Malcolm got the proof. Denise Harlow’s signature is on the bank account. She orchestrated the entire embezzlement. I’m taking it to Rose.”
Dex stared at me. I expected relief. I expected him to saygo. Instead, his face did something I didn’t anticipate. It got very still and very careful, the way it did when he was about to say something he knew I didn’t want to hear.
“And then what?” he asked.
“What do you mean, and then what? She’ll know the truth. She’ll know Denise was behind everything.”
“She’ll know.” Dex’s voice was quiet. “And what changes?”
“Everything changes.”
“Does it?” He leaned forward. “Graham, listen to me. Nailing Denise doesn’t get Rose her ranch back. Garrett Wilson owns it. He’s probably already got contractors on site. It doesn’t bring Brutus or Cassie, or any of them home. It doesn’t undo the sale or reverse the loan call.” He held my eyes. “Those horses are gone. The ranch is gone. The proof doesn’t fix any of that. All it does is hand Rose one more thing to grieve. The knowledge that the person she trusted most did all of it on purpose.”
“She deserves to know.”
“She does. Eventually. But not from you. You showing up on her doorstep with a folder of bank documents looks like the famous boyfriend swooping in to save the day.” He rubbed his face with both hands. “Graham, I need to say something, and you’re not going to like it.”
“When has that ever stopped you?”
“Rose told you to leave because you were a distraction. Her word. And I know that hurt. I know you’ve spent weeks telling yourself she was wrong, that you were helping, that if she’d just let you stay you could have fixed it.” He paused. “But what if she wasn’t wrong?”
The kitchen went very quiet.
“What if your being there, the cameras, the content, the bloody viral video of Brutus, what if all of that was the thing that kept Rose from seeing what was right in front of her? What if she was so busy dealing with you, with the paparazzi, with the internet, with the townspeople turning against her because a famous man was sleeping in her guest cabin, that she missed every warning sign Denise was waving?”
“That’s not?—”
“The insurance lapsed on your watch, Graham. The bank reviewed her loan because the coverage gap was flagged during the media circus. The coverage gap that Denise engineered, yes, but that nobody caught because everyone, including Rose, was distracted by Fraser Kincaid.” His voice wasn’t cruel. It was worse than cruel. It was honest. “You didn’t steal her money. You didn’t sabotage her insurance. But you were the smoke that Denise hid behind. And Rose knows it. That’s why she told you to leave. That’s why she won’t answer your phone.”
I sat there with the proof in my inbox and the truth in my chest and Dex’s words landing like stones dropped into still water.
He wasn’t wrong.
I could still hear Denise’s voice through the cracked office door, weeks ago, in the dark hallway of Rose’s ranch. The clipped tone that sounded nothing like the bright, helpful woman she performed for Rose.She’s too distracted. Between the video and him and—That short, ugly laugh.It’s actually working in our favor.
Denise hadn’t just hidden behind the smoke. She’d seen me coming and adjusted her plan. Used me. The famous boyfriend, the viral video, the media circus, all of it had been a gift to her. Not an accident. Not collateral damage. A tool she’d recognized and wielded while I was too busy falling in love to see it.
Dex was right that I’d been the distraction. But Denise was the one who’d made sure of it.
