Chapter 35

Kingston

I’ve seen empires fall over smaller betrayals.

The boardroom was silent as I scanned the preliminary results from the internal investigation. A human-owned company had somehow won the bid for our most ambitious project to date and accused us of creating poison. The story had already cost us millions.

The decision had shocked everyone, including me, until this morning, when security flagged something I never thought I’d have to read.

Leaked documents. Sensitive. Exclusive to my executive circle.

Someone inside had sold us out.

I tightened my jaw as I scrolled through the findings on the tablet. The timestamps, the data access logs… they painted a damning picture. And the name that surfaced, again and again, sent a chill down my spine.

Cora.

She had the clearance. She’d recently been inside the bidding folder. Her access credentials matched the breach.

And the worst part? Her motive—at least on paper—was plausible. She’d been publicly dragged through the mud, accused of poisoning me, blamed for the photo leak, and gossiped about in every tabloid.

Not to mention the fact that me and her sister hadn’t told her of Billy’s true parentage.

Over time as well, Amy had done a damn good job of isolating her at work. Who could blame a human woman for wanting revenge after everything?

But this was Cora.

The woman who stepped into a fire to protect my company’s work without hesitation. The woman who shielded Riley with every breath in her body. The woman who walked through this very company with her chin held high, even as whispers stabbed her from every direction.

No. This didn’t feel right.

“I want this re-checked,” I said flatly, pushing the tablet across the table. “Run it again. Don’t rely on metadata. Look for swipe card logs, video surveillance, everything.”

“Sir—” one of the security leads began, clearly nervous. “Her access code was used.”

“And codes can be stolen,” I snapped. “Faked. Framed.”

No one dared to challenge me after that.

But the damage had already spread. Quiet murmurs were taking root again. Executives who had just started accepting Cora’s return were whispering again behind closed doors. I heard her name mentioned in that same suspicious tone I’d worked so hard to silence.

Amy, of course, was milking it for all it was worth, her smug face popping up in my peripheral vision far too often.

Still, I didn’t call Cora in for questioning. I didn’t need to. Because I knew in my gut: she didn’t do this.

But I should’ve said it out loud.

Because the next day, she was gone.

“I don’t know what you said or didn’t say,” Rock grumbled as he paced in my office, “but Cora packed her things and left.”

“Left?” I echoed, glancing up from my desk. He had stormed in, uninvited, and begun speaking before I could tell him to leave.

“She’s on a plane somewhere. Said she was taking vacation days she never used. No temporary address to reach her at, no note. Just told me she was going and went.”

A cold wave of something that felt eerily like panic washed over me. “What country is she heading to?”

“No idea. But she looked like she was about to cry when I asked if you knew. So whatever happened between you two, it must have been pretty bad this time.”

I stood and walked toward the window, jaw tight. The skyline blurred beyond the glass, lights flickering across the horizon as night crept in.

“What did happen?” Rock ventured. “She won’t tell me.”

“That’s for her to discuss with you.” Rock was her best friend. Not mine. I didn’t owe him an explanation.

“Like I’ll have any luck getting a hold of her,” Rock said with a scoff. “She dropped Riley off, asked me to look after him, and hasn’t answered me since. She said she needed space, but damn.”

I didn’t like the way my wolf growled internally at the though of her choose Rock to look after Riley and not coming to me instead.

And there had to be some reason she was withholding the information from him. Perhaps she thought the Daisy revelation was too embarrassing. Well, I wouldn’t add to her humiliation if I could help it.

Cora was gone. Just gone. And I hadn’t even told her I believed in her, didn’t have the opportunity to truly express how sorry I was for the Daisy drama.

I thought my silence would speak for itself. That she’d feel my faith and apology lingering in the spaces between my words.

Clearly, I’d miscalculated.

Rock ran a hand through his hair. “Look, I’m not usually the feelings guy here, but you’ve got to figure your shit out, man. You’re not just her boss anymore, whether you admit it or not.”

“I never wanted her involved in any of this,” I muttered. “She didn’t deserve this mess.”

“Then stop letting her carry it alone.”

He left me with that.

The hours after I found out she left were unbearable in ways I didn’t expect. The office, once energized by her presence—even in tense moments—felt hollow.

No warm coffee waiting beside my briefings. No quiet sigh from the corner of the room when I got too deep into a document to realize it was past dinner.

Instead, it was cold. Too quiet. Just me and my own thoughts.

And I hated every second of it.

My wolf, usually so silent behind the mask of control I wore at work, stirred often now.

Restless. Agitated. Missing something.

I reviewed the data breach again and again. With every pass, the inconsistencies became clearer.

The access time for the leak happened after Cora had already logged out of the system. The IP address wasn’t hers. The security footage was missing, but only for that window of time.

It was clearly a setup. A very precise one.

By now, I was convinced someone was targeting her. Again.

I didn’t just miss her presence at work. I missed her. The way she challenged me.

I should’ve stopped her from leaving. Should’ve known she might do something rash and gone after her.

Hell, I still could.

But she’d need a reason to come back. A real one.

Not a duty. Not an obligation. Not even guilt.

Trust.

For now, unfortunately, he had an upcoming press conference to prepare for. Even without Cora around to assuage my worries, I had to work toward fixing this mess one way or another.

I would speak to the other wolves and—yet again—tell them of my utmost confidence in Cora. I would remind them that she couldn’t be responsible. I would defend her even if she wasn’t here to defend herself.

But first, I felt the urge to send her a message to let her know that I was thinking about her. I pulled out my phone and sighed. We did this too often, her and I. When would we ever be free of this drama?

I found myself staring at a blank message draft on my phone. I typed. Erased. Typed again.

Finally, I wrote: “You don’t have to answer. But I need you to know I believe in you. I never doubted you—not for a second. And I’m so sorry. If you need time, take it. But I’ll be here, waiting.”

I hesitated. Then sent it.

The message was marked as delivered.

But she didn’t reply.