A cold weight settled in my gut. “What?”
“When it was created, the date of birth was one month prior. And it wasn’t filed by the hospital. Her parents filed for a birth certificate in person.” Jax kept going, his voice clinical. “Then there’s her early medical history. Or lack of it. From birth to about three years old, there’s barely anything. What’s there is vague. Reads like someone copied the information out of a medical textbook and dropped it into her file.”
My fingers dug slightly against my biceps.
“The ‘injury’ she supposedly had as a toddler, the one she told you caused the scar?” he continued. “It’s not even listed as a surgery. Just a minor laceration. Stitches. No imaging or photos. No follow-up notes worth a damn. Nothing you’d expect if a kid actually hit their head hard enough to need real intervention.”
“That doesn’t happen,” I muttered. “Not in a family like hers.”
“Exactly.” Jax glanced at me. “High-profile parents, money, access to the best care—and that’s the record they’ve got? Doesn’t fit.”
Silence stretched for a beat.
“Flint did suggest that it might have been related to vanity. That her parents were embarrassed by what he’s convinced was a birthmark.” Scratching my chin, I tried to make sense of the puzzle.
“It’s possible,” Jax conceded.
“But if that was the purpose, it still doesn’t explain the smoke screens in her background.”
“I don’t know.” Jax cocked his head to the side and frowned. “What I do know is that no politician is squeaky clean. And I’ve seen evidence that indicates her father has bent some rules to get ahead. But he toes the line carefully and never crosses it, so he avoids legal shit and scandals.” He gestured toward his computer screen. “Like taking money from donors whose finances are dirty. Owing people like that, it’s only a matter of time before he’s in their pocket with no way to get out.”
“As much as I wish there was more pointing at vanity for their reasoning, a dark secret or hidden scandal certainly makes more sense with the evidence in front of us.”
“But Hadley doesn’t strike you as being from the same cloth as her parents?” he asked.
Thinking about the warm, open woman I’d left at my house, I shook my head. “No. To be honest, I’m shocked she isn’t more jaded. She definitely knows how to shut down and wear a mask. She doesn’t show signs of abuse, though. I have a feeling her parents weren’t cruel, more like neglectful. When she had their attention, it was probably centered on managing her. Like you said last night, image is everything to a man like her father. Especially when your platform is family values.”
“So their priority was projecting that ideal family image,” Jax mused. “Which means Hadley was expected to support their image by conforming to what was demanded of her.”
“Exactly.” My mind spun as I tried to understand Hadley’s life so we could come up with an explanation for all the redflags Jax was finding. Except the background taking shape in my mind only spawned more questions. “I’m sure she has been told her whole life what was expected of her—how to behave, how to speak, and what to want. Even what she wore, how she carried herself, and who she associated with. With people like the Rivers, nothing is left to chance. Every aspect of her life would have been structured, controlled, and managed.”
Jax was watching me with a raised eyebrow. “Sound familiar?”
I scowled and shook my head. “Think what you want about how I live my life, asshole. I don’t give a shit. But it’s my choice. I doubt anything in Hadley’s life was about what she actually wanted.”
Jax removed his baseball cap and ran a hand through his hair before putting it back on his head—something he did when he was thinking hard. “Gonna do a deeper dive into the parents. I think they’ll be the key to answers more than Hadley.”
I already had a bad taste in my mouth from how she was treated by her parents, but if whatever they were mixed up in put Hadley in danger…
My blood boiled, a fierce protectiveness burning inside me.
“Get me anything and everything on them,” I growled as I pushed away from the wall. “I’m gonna loop in Kane and Edge.”
Jax barely acknowledged my statement, his mind already hyper-focused on the screens in front of him as his fingers flew across the keyboard.
Without another word, I left the room, closing the door behind me and heading down the hall toward the offices of our prez and VP. Kane was in Tallahassee at Redline Speedway, so I went straight to Edge’s door.
He sat behind his desk, flipping a knife between his fingers, leaning back with his boots propped casually on the edge. Hisgreen eyes lifted to mine, amusement flickering there as he read the tension radiating from my stance.
“Well, look who’s prowling,” Edge drawled, the knife never faltering. His movie-star grin widened knowingly. “You look like you just learned something interesting.”
“You could say that,” I grunted, dropping onto one of the chairs in front of his desk. “You remember the woman who got hit by debris at Brake Point Run last night?”
Edge nodded, and I exhaled, running a hand over my jaw. Then I launched into the whole story, only leaving out personal shit between Hadley and me. But somehow, the bastard read between the lines and studied me closely, a knowing smirk curving his mouth.
“Jax is digging deeper,” I finished. “She’s in danger. I can fucking feel it.”
Edge’s grin faded, replaced by something colder, a glimpse of the lethal and slightly psychotic man lurking beneath his easygoing surface. “You know your brothers have your back. Your woman’s too. I’ll fill in Kane tonight.”
