She swallowed. “Criminal investigation. Financial ruin. You getting dragged into it. Your career.”
My career. My image. My family’s empire. I almost laughed. “I stand by you,” I vowed.
Adriana studied me carefully. “That’s easy to say, but will you back it up?”
“It’s not a line.” I stepped closer, lowering my voice. “They don’t get to decide who I stand beside.”
Adriana’s mouth pressed into a thin line. “You’re willing to torch your image over this? Put strain on your relationship at home?”
“I’m protecting Mila,” I said evenly. “And you by default.”
Something flickered across Adriana’s face. Surprise. Maybe reassessment.
“So you’re not just another rich boy protecting his image,” she muttered.
I held her gaze. “If I were, I’d already be back inside distancing myself.”
Silence stretched. Then Adriana looked toward the town below instead of me.
“This isn’t just corporate politics,” she said.
Mila stiffened. “Mom?—”
“No.” Adriana exhaled, as if something inside her had finally snapped. “He needs to know and so do you.”
My focus narrowed instantly. “Know what?”
She hesitated. For the first time tonight, I saw something close to fear in Adriana’s eyes. “I’ve been working with the FBI.”
The world narrowed. Mila went completely still beside me. “What?”
“It started before we came back to Blackwood,” Adriana continued. “Dunn isn’t just cutting corners. There are shell companies. Offshore accounts. Disappearances in supplier chains that don’t add up. I had access. I started documenting.”
I knew about the shell companies—Adriana had shared that with Mila, and she in turn, with me. The pieces slammed into place. Their sudden departure a year ago. The silence. The reappearance under Dunn’s employment. “You’re building a case,” I said.
“I was,” Adriana corrected. “It’s incomplete. Not enough yet. And if these documents surface, it discredits me before anything formal moves forward.”
Dunn wasn’t just protecting himself. He was neutralizing a threat.
“And now Dunn knows,” Mila whispered.
“Probably,” Adriana said. “Or he suspects. I don’t know for sure.”
I went still. This wasn’t about social maneuvering anymore. This was war. “Who’s your FBI contact?” I asked.
“I’m not giving you a name.”
“Fine. Does the Bureau know about the fabricated documents?”
“Not yet.”
“They will,” I said.
Adriana studied me again. “You’re not walking away.”
It wasn’t a question.
“No.”
