“Not deep enough to connect all the dots yet,” Ghost assures me. “But they’re getting close. Another week, maybe two, and they’ll have enough to piece together that Nitro, the biker VP and Damon Blackwell, the billionaire CEO, are the same person. Damon Blackwell is a faceless, silent owner, but if they dig deep enough and hard enough, the connections will be made.”
The Chapel feels like it’s shrinking, the walls pressing in on me. I spent years building these separate identities, keeping them compartmentalized, making sure the world of Blackwell Entertainment never touched the world of Las Vegas Defiance.
And now someone’s threatening to burn it all down.
“You think it’s Derek?” I ask because he’s the obvious suspect. The ex-boyfriend who hates me, who would love nothing more than to expose me and hurt Marley in the process.
Ghost shrugs. “Could be. He’s got motive. But this level of technical sophistication? I’m not sure he has the resources. He might have hired someone, though, a private investigator with actual tech skills.”
Sin leans back in his chair, that poker chip appearing between his fingers like magic. It’s his tell, the thing he does when he’s thinking hard about a problem. “Options?”
“We could go on offense,” Ghost suggests. “I can trace it back, find out who’s digging, maybe pay them a visit. Convince them to stop.”
“Or…” I say slowly, the words tasting like ash in my mouth, “I could tell Marley the truth.”
Both of them look at me. Sin’s expression is carefully neutral, but I see the concern in his eyes. Ghost’s is more direct. He’s worried about me, about the fallout, about what this revelation might do to the woman who’s become so important to me.
“You sure about that?” Sin asks quietly. “Once you tell her, you can’t take it back.”
“I’m not sure about anything except that she deserves to hear it from me.” I run a hand through my hair, frustration and fear warring in my gut. “Not from some fucking news article or exposé. Not from Derek if he’s behind this. But from me. Before someone else ruins everything.”
“She’s gonna be pissed,” Ghost says, and it’s not a judgment, just a fact.
“I know.”
God, do I know.
I’ve been dreading this conversation for weeks, finding excuse after excuse to put it off.
The timing wasn’t right.
Things were going so well.
Why ruin it?
But now my hand is being forced, and maybe that’s for the best. Maybe I’ve been a coward, hiding behind my fear of losing her instead of trusting her to handle the truth.
“When are you gonna tell her?” Sin asks.
I think about Marley, probably at Blackwell right now, presenting that campaign she’s so excited about. Smiling, thriving, finally happy after everything Derek put her through. The thought of dimming that light, of seeing her face crumble when she realizes I’ve been lying to her…
But it’s better than the alternative.
Better than her finding out from someone else.
Better than her thinking I didn’t trust her enough to be honest.
“Soon,” I say. “This week. I need to figure out how to say it.”
“Brother,” Sin says, and there’s something gentle in his voice that I rarely hear. “If she loves you,reallyloves you, she’ll be hurt, yeah. But she won’t hate you. Give her some credit. Give your relationship some credit.”
I want to believe his words.
I want to believe that what Marley and I have is strong enough to weather this storm. But the fear is there, cold and insidious, whispering that I’m about to lose the best thing that’s ever happened to me.
“Keep digging,” I tell Ghost. “Find out who’s behind this. But quietly. I don’t want to spook them and have them dump whatever they’ve found publicly before I can talk to Marley.”
Ghost nods, already turning back to his laptop. “I’ll keep you updated. Daily check-ins?”
