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Preston was proving in this moment that not only was he an asshole, but a heartless one at that. Ethan had seen Jake and Preston disappear into his office a dozen times. Laughing, clinking of glasses, emerging with glassy eyes, reeking of bourbon. But now Preston couldn't even fake a moment of grief?

Joyce recovered faster than Ethan could. “We’re—We’re all pretty shaken up. Michael and Paul already left. If there’s anything we can do, just⁠—”

Preston cut her off as he pulled out his phone and scrolled through it, his voice sharp and impatient. “Actually. There is. I need you to get me access to Jake’s emails. Full credentials.”

Joyce blinked. “Oh, uh…well, sure.”

“Now. I need his inbox and sent folders wiped from the last few weeks.” He paused, searching their faces. “It’s standard protocol during investigations. We can't have any of our client communications getting pulled into this if there's some kind of legal investigation.”

Ethan's stomach twisted. Granted, something like this had never happened, but Preston’s excuse sounded less like corporate bullshit and just straight-up shady.

Joyce grabbed a notepad, frantically scribbling across the page. “Of course, Mr. Willows. Right away.”

Preston’s gaze slid to Ethan, and his chest tightened. Preston took a step closer, and the room seemed to shrink around them as his gaze held Ethan’s, unblinking. “I trust that I don't need to remind you of your NDA, Ward?”

Ethan swallowed as he choked out the words. “N-No, sir,” he said, his nails digging into his legs as he gripped them tight under the desk.

Preston's eyes narrowed, studying him.

The hair on Ethan’s neck prickled, and all he wanted was to disappear and be back home in bed with Teddy curled up by his side.

Preston grinned, slowly turning back to Joyce. “Great. Let me know when it’s done,” he said, walking out and closing the door behind him.

Joyce exhaled loudly. “Sweet Mary and Joseph…”

Ethan stared at the door. “What the fuck was that?”

“Well, I guess I'd better get o—” Joyce muttered, holding her notepad up.

“Joyce.” He kept his voice low. Ethan’s leg bounced under his desk, shaking the table. “That was…shady as hell. Right? Am I crazy?”

She didn't look up. “No, honey. You’re not crazy…”

“So shouldn't we like..I don’t know,” He trailed off, not even sure of what he was asking. “Like, tell someone or something?”

Joyce looked back at him, her eyes tired. She sighed and shook her head. “And say what to the cops? Hey, our boss asked us to delete some emails after his friend mysteriously died?”

Ethan’s eyes opened wide as he shook his head. “Yes, exactly that!”

“Ethan…” She came over and sat by his desk, her voice solemn. “You know what happens to people who make noise around here. Not only that, but…” She leaned in close. “The Willows own this town. I been here a long time and I ain’t ever seen anything bad happen to them.” She gulped. “And I seen a lot of shit. Pardon my French.”

It was fucked up. There was no denying that. But the reality is that Joyce was right. He’d seen it for himself. That was just how things worked here, in this company, this town.

Don’t make waves. Get your paycheck, and go home.

Ethan pressed his palms into his eyes until white spots danced across his vision. What should have been another safe and mundane Monday morning had turned into utter shit.

His boss was dead, with his heart missing after leaving with a woman whom nobody could identify. On top of that, now the CEO’s psychotic son was telling them to delete his emails.

Fantastic. Truly Fantastic.

Ethan slumped back in his seat, eyes locked to the ceiling, and for the first time, he wondered if he should have just stayed in New York.

The rest of the week crawled by in a haze.

Someone came and cleared out Jake’s office by Tuesday. Ethan watched as the facilities people carried out boxes of files, personal items, and even that stupid motivational poster Jake had hanging above his desk.

BE THE WOLF, NOT THE SHEEP. All of it was gone by the afternoon. Like Jake McKinney had never been there at all.