“According to my sources, he’s sinking like a stone. The man will be stuck under a ten-thousand-pound legal boulder in days.” There’s a smug pride in every word.
Can’t blame him when Luis isn’t subtle about loving the cloak-and-dagger subterfuge.
“Good, fuck him,” I snarl.
“The local press is a stampede, falling all over each other to get interviews with him. From what I’ve gathered, his office is vacated, basically locked up.” He blows out a breath. “So many lawsuits, man. It’s an avalanche. I guess he’s decided to come out with his own, but it won’t get anywhere fast.”
“He’s suingme?” I snort. “Desperation. That fuck doesn’t have a leg to stand on.”
“I know, you know, and the lawyers know, but he’s suing for defamation, anyway. Just a rabid dog, lashing out at this point for something to bite.”
“I love the smell of panic.” For the first time in days, I smile.
“He knows how crushing this is. Even if he can wriggle out of criminal charges—and I’m pretty sure he won’t—it’s so rancid no one will want to work with him again in this town. There are calls coming to boycott him entirely.”
“Perfect,” I repeat.
I don’t know Harry personally from Adam, but we share one thing in common.
Image is everything.
And now, if he’s flailing and chasing his own tail like a deluded beast, hiding from the press while they burn him down—it means he’s a broken mirror.
He never expected his illegal fuckery to come to light, and it’s busted him into a million pieces.
His threats don’t scare me. Empty bluster.
Hell, anybody in code enforcement he corrupted is probably fleeing across the state line by now if they have an IQ above frozen lasagna.
“There’s something else.” Luis clears his throat, his usual tell when he wants to change the subject—and when he knows I won’t like it. “Have you heard from Miss Joly yet?”
“No. After these fireworks, hopefully soon.”
But why does it feel so unlikely with every passing hour of radio silence?
“I hate to throw this on your shoulders, but people are starting to notice she’s missing, boss man.”
Goddammit, I know.
I haven’t posted anything new for days.
With a social media presence like mine, I could hand off content to others to fill in the gaps, or just repost old videos. But it’s always been important that my fans know they’re talking to authentic Brady, and they have a near-daily connection to my adventures.
Of course, that also means I’m front and center, and when I’m not, it’s a recipe for controversy.
People are talking. Whispers are becoming a dull roar, asking why my last few posts and live streams had no mention of my lovely fiancée.
And my latest ghosting act just pours fuel on the fire.
A dozen variations of #BradyBreakup hashtags are trending.
Fucking hell.
“Where is she? Any updates?” I growl.
“Nope, but I have a few guesses you wouldn’t let me pursue.”
“No. I’m not invading her damn privacy.”
