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Chapter 128
Mason’s POV
The inconsistencies had been accumulating for weeks.
I had been filing them…. the way I filed everything, in the specific, organised part of my mind that tracked patterns without requiring me to name them yet. Small things. The kind that were individually dismissible and collectively not.
The second phone…
The midnight exits.
The messages that produced expressions she managed back to neutral within a second but not within the half- second I needed to read them.
The work that called at eleven at night.
The errand that had, taken ninety minutes on a Tuesday afternoon.
I had been filing them because acting on incomplete information was how plans failed, and I had not had enough of a picture to act on
The picture was developing.
It started with the name….
I had been looking at the financial overview Reeves had prepared….. the household accounts, the company minority position, the personal holdings, when a payment appeared that I hadn’t authorised and didn’t recognise.
Not large.
The kind that existed below the threshold of things that required discussion and above the threshold of things that
were routine.
I pulled the reference number….
The recipient account was registered to a holding company.
I pulled the holding company registration
The registered address was a serviced office in the south of the city.
The director name was D. Cole.
I sat with that for a moment
Then I ran it…. quietly, through Patterson’s secondary service, the tool I used for names that required more than a standard search.
Daniel Cole
The profile that came back was the specific kind that belonged to someone who existed in the peripheral spaces between formal employment…. consultancy work, advisory roles, the kind of professional history that communicated capability without commitment.
Previous associations: three companies, all dissolved.
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One of the companies had a registered address that appeared in the records I had been building…. not Maya’s records, not the company’s records.
A different set.
Connected to a period approximately two years ago when Selina had been handling certain arrangements independently.
I closed the laptop.
Sat back
She was in the nursery when I went upstairs.
The baby asleep, the room in the specific dim quiet of a space that existed for one purpose and was fulfilling it. She was standing at the crib with the expression she wore when she was watching him sleep…. not performing the watching, just doing it.
I stood in the doorway.
She heard me
Turned.
Read my face with the accuracy she always brought to reading my face.
“Everything all right?” she said
“Fine,” I said. “Come downstairs when he’s settled.”
I went back to the study.
She came down ten minutes later.
I had the laptop closed. The name not visible. The research in my head rather than on the screen.
She sat across from me
“You’ve been quiet since the meeting,” she said.
“I’ve been thinking.”
“About?”
“The finances,” I said. “There’s a payment I don’t recognise”
Her hands, which had been resting loosely on her knees, became slightly less loose.
“I make small payments sometimes,” she said. “Household things. Things that don’t seem worth mentioning.”
“This one was to a company,” I said.
“Occasionally I use a service provider.” Even. Practiced. “For certain administrative things.”
“D. Cole,” I said.
One beat….
The specific, involuntary quality of a face receiving a name it wasn’t expecting and making the calculation of how
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to respond.
She made the calculation in approximately two seconds.
“A consultant,” she said. “I’ve used him occasionally for…. logistical things.’
“What kind of logistical things?”
“Administrative. Coordination.” She held my gaze. “Nothing significant”
I looked at her.
At the woman who had been beside me for sometime now and who had, I was increasingly certain, been managing something in a separate room of her life that she had been very careful not to let me see.
“He has a history with a company,” I said carefully, watching her face. “A company that appeared in some records connected to your previous arrangements”
Her expression was the controlled version.
She was good at the controlled version
“You’re connecting things that aren’t connected,” she said.
“Maybe,” I said.
She looked at me
I looked at her.
The sitting room was very quiet.
“Selina.” I kept my voice level. “I’ve been patient. I’ve noticed things and filed them because I understand that you have a certain way of managing your affairs and I’ve respected the separation.” I paused. “But the things I’ve been filing are starting to form a picture I don’t like.”
“Mason…..”
“I’m not accusing you,” I said. “I’m telling you what I’m seeing. And what I’m seeing suggests that there is something you have been carrying separately from us, from this family, that has been present for a significant amount of time and is still present.”
She looked at me
The controlled version was doing more work than usual….
“You’re reading too much into a payment,” she said.
“Am I?”
“Yes…”
The name on the screen. The dissolved companies. The secondary address.
The midnight exits and the expression she managed in the first second but not the half-second.
The work that called at eleven.
All of it accumulating
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“Maybe,” I said again.
I stood up
Crossed to the window.
The harbour.
Always the harbour
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“I’m going to find out eventually,” I said. Not as a threat…. as information. “You know me well enough to know that.” I looked at the water. “Whatever it is…. the longer it’s hidden, the more it costs when it stops being hidden.”
She said nothing
I turned.
“You’re hiding something from me,” I said. “I just haven’t caught it yet.”
She looked at me with the controlled version that was working at its absolute limit.
“Goodnight, Mason,” she said
She walked upstairs.
I stood in the sitting room and looked at the harbour and thought about Daniel Cole and dissolved companies and the specific, cold quality of a picture that was almost complete.
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4/4
Ruby Walker is a rising voice in the world of romance and spicy fiction. With a gift for weaving deep emotions, sizzling chemistry, and unexpected twists, her stories are a blend of passion and drama that captivate readers from start to finish. Ruby’s writing style is bold and irresistible—perfect for those who crave intense, addictive love stories.

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