Total pages in book: 40
Estimated words: 41105 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 206(@200wpm)___ 164(@250wpm)___ 137(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 41105 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 206(@200wpm)___ 164(@250wpm)___ 137(@300wpm)
“I appreciate that.”
“Always.”
The fire crackling and hissing serves as the only conversation between us for several moments until I can’t take it anymore.
“How long have we been friends, Chester?” I ask.
“Too long.”
“Long enough for me to be embarrassingly honest with you for a few seconds?”
“No.” He smiles. “Give it five more years, and then we’ll be there.”
I want to smile back, but I can’t.
“Let me tell you something embarrassingly honest first,” he says, puffing his cigar. “I hated your parents.”
“What?”
“Well, not them per se. I meant the way they acted long before they had you and your brothers, I mean,” he says. “Hot and cold, toxic and obsessed… a lot like you and Miss Jane.”
“They dated a lot longer than Miss Jane and I.”
“He proposed after only knowing her for a month.”
“Because he knew she was the one that soon?”
“He knew he didn’t want another man to ever touch her.” He rolls his eyes. “He told her that if she wanted to break up, she could file for divorce after the wedding.”
“I see.” I sip my whiskey. “I never knew that.”
“Similar to how you’ve behaved with Miss Jane, isn’t it?”
“I don’t recall buying a ring.”
“No, but you fast-tracked her divorce and pushed her husband out of the picture.”
“He did that to himself.”
“And the moment she was single, you made sure she never left your sight or your security’s sight,” he says. “If you weren’t currently on a revenge arc, I have no doubt you’d be telling me about a wedding.”
“She left me.”
“She needed to.” He looks at me. “I think you can get her back over time.”
“That’s the embarrassingly honest thing I wanted to discuss.” I down the rest of my glass. “You once said if she discovered how I really knew her, she wouldn’t want to be with me.”
“I remember,” he says. “But a lot has changed since then… Do you think she would?”
“I don’t know,” I say. “I never thought she’d leave me.”
“You don’t think she’ll come back?”
“Not before I personally bring her back…”
End of Episode 24
Just to be Close to You
EPISODE 25
Ryder
How I “Met” Her
Several Months Ago
Isink into a chair so stiff it might as well be display-only. Every surface in the room gleams — a museum of tastefully lifeless décor. A house meant to impress, not be lived in. Nate Taylor thinks this makes him clever. That he can steal from me and hide behind beige wallpaper and brushed nickel trim.
He honestly believes I’d never find out he’s been siphoning money from my accounts for years.
I glance at my watch.
Nate Taylor should be walking through the front door any second now…
Headlights flash through the windows, and the garage rumbles open. The distinct tap of loafers on the tile follows, and then—
I hit the lights.
“Good evening, Mr. Taylor.”
“What the—” He gasps, dropping his briefcase to the floor. “Who the hell are you?”
“Wrong question.” I lean forward. “I’m in a good mood though, so I’ll let you try again.”
“I’m calling the police.” He pulls out his phone.
One of my men glances at me with a Should I stop him? look. I shake my head.
“I’m serious,” Nate says, lifting his phone to his ear. “If I were you, I’d leave while you still can.”
“I’ll leave once you give me all the money you stole back,” I say. “All thirty-six million, four hundred sixty-eight thousand, and seventy-eight cents.”
His phone slips from his fingers, the screen shattering on impact.
“You can just give me the account number for the offshore bank where you’re hiding it, and we’ll all be on our way…”
“I… I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he stammers. “I… I don’t owe anyone any money.”
His face drains of color as he looks between me, Chester, and my guards.
“You’re confusing me with someone else. This is a mistake.”
I drum my fingers along the armrest, letting the silence stretch. Civilian white-collar criminals like Nate operate differently. You can’t take what you’re owed in blood — not in the suburbs. They like logic. Paper trails. Questions with clear answers.
“Your firm is Walt, Yule, and Taylor Financials, correct?”
“Yes.”
“You run the client section?”
He nods.
“So, you would be in charge of charging clients for your services—” I don’t pause for a reply. “And surely you’d notice charging a set of dead clients two hundred grand a month… There’s no way that shit didn’t come up in an audit, especially once it hit the millions.”
His expression caves, giving me everything I need.
“Those dead clients’ money came from my accounts,” I say. “So you’ve been stealing from me.”
He swallows hard.
“But if you give it back today — in full and with interest — I’ll forget this ever happened.” I pull out a business card and click my pen. “Offshore account number. Now.”
“I don’t have it in an offshore account.”
“Then where is it?”
“I have some of it in a bank, some in stocks, some…”