Chapter 23

Zane POV

I confess it was a relief to leave interviewing tutors for the girls to Sarah. As an alpha, I would command the applicants’ respect, obviously, but they would be too interested in trying to impress me and too eager to agree with whatever I said. They would see Sarah as a colleague, someone else whose job it was to help Chloe and Grace, and they would be more willing to let their own ideas and attitudes surface.

I thought again, inevitably, of what Hans had said, about how Sarah was an extraordinary human and it could be no mere chance that had seen her receive Chloe on her doorstep. This led to thoughts, again, of how lucky Chloe and I had been that she had been the one to care for my daughter all those years. The thought of the alternatives left me cold with fear and flushed with rage.

Whenever I found whoever was behind all those years of pain and loss, well, as alpha, I had every right to see to justice over the matter as I determined it. I would kill them. As long as they accepted my judgment, I would make it quick.

I heard the ring at the front door and knew Agent Travis had arrived. I gave Hans a few moments to see him to the study, and then stood to welcome the man. He held yet more files.

Soon, we had the reports spread out before us, and again I was impressed with the man’s thoroughness and dedication. He was supremely capable, as a beta or as anything else, and there was not a shred of the sycophant in him. I thought he was probably due for a raise.

“The bank records are clear enough,” Travis said, trailing his fingers down a list of deposits and withdrawals. “He was basically paying himself a monthly dividend from a widely divested portfolio we cannot directly access.”

“Switzerland,” I noted, seeing the letterhead for CIM Banque on a number of investment reports.

“Yes. Kim was also quite successful in buying and selling high-end antiques, all done through third parties. He has quite the eye, as you can see.”

I nodded at his impressive lists of acquisitions, including the usual objects like a Chippendale and a Stickley and unusual like a first edition Michael Grant, The Founders of the Western World: A History of Greece and Rome, and a gold-and-diamond Kutchinsky necklace.

“There’s no question he came suddenly into money five years ago,” Travis said next. “But it wasn’t a lottery ticket or an inheritance.”

“No one else,” I murmured.

“Sir?”

“There’s no one else in his life,” I said, looking over the report on his expenses. He bought and sold, but he didn’t give gifts. He didn’t support family. There was no evidence he did anything but live in his cottage and count his money.

“Lonely,” Travis said. “And he was a gamma. They’re not known for their independence.”

I nodded, then frowned at a readout of expenditures that included three, no, four payouts to an account listed only by number.

“What are these?” I asked, and Travis looked at the form before reaching for his phone and snapping orders at someone in Spanish. Twenty minutes later, he sighed and hung up in frustration.

“It’s a black account,” he told me, “worse than Swiss. We’ll never trace the money from there.”

A discrete knock at the door, and Hans walked in with a pile of letters on a tray. “These arrived with the post, sir.”

Frowning, I took them and looked them over. There were over a dozen thick envelopes with stiff cards inside. I opened one.

“The family of Alpha Zane Cavendish are cordially invited to the Fifteenth Annual Black Tie for Beethoven Dinner and Dance,” I read aloud. I looked at Hans. “I’m usually invited to these sorts of things alone, and never so many at once.”

“It would seem that the news of the children’s human goddess-mother has been more than a vigorous topic of discussion in society, sir. I believe the phrasing is in hope that the children, and thus Miss Sarah, will be accompanying you.”

I laughed, surprising the two betas in front of me. “I doubt seriously Sarah would appreciate my trotting her out for public view at a series of high-end fundraisers.” I held up another card and read, “A Lecture with Cocktails for The Society for Human Empowerment.” I looked at another: “Dinner and Casino Night for the American Red Cross. Try your luck and help those in need.”

I peered at the fine print. “A hundred thousand per table with $1,000 in free chips. Sounds like a bargain.”

“How many people at a table?” Travis asked, actually sounding curious.

“At that price, it should be about two thousand,” I said. I tossed the envelope down with a little irritation. “I already write them a check twice a year, but they want to gawk at my children’s goddess-mother.”

Then one envelope caught my eye. My name was written first, but instead of “and family,” it had “Sarah Astor” written as co-invitee. I picked it up to see it was from the Hancord Foundation, which I knew was co-chaired by a good friend of Scott’s and vague acquaintance of mine.

“You ever heard anything about the Hancord Foundation?” I asked Travis, knowing Hans would speak up if he had something to say.

My head of security’s eyes went blank for a moment. The wolf had a keen memory for such things, and I trusted him more than a Google search. “Only the usual things, nothing suspect. They primarily support orphanages, werewolf and human. I heard Frank Hancord Sr. was a sharp businessman, but his son, David, realized he had no head for it, took the business public, turned it over to some CEO with a successful track record, and set up the foundation with himself at the head.”

Travis shrugged. “Worse things to do with an inherited fortune.”

I hummed, then gave all but that one invitation back to Hans with instructions to turn them over to my private secretary to politely decline on my behalf.

“And the Hancord Foundation?” he asked.

“Thinking about it,” I said. “Would you ask Sarah to come here?”

“Of course, sir.”

Travis said nothing, but I could scent his curiosity. “Sarah herself was an orphan, and she took one in, or at least she believed she did. Seems a fitting place to take her for overpriced chicken and peas.”

Travis stifled a laugh and nodded. A few minutes later, Sarah came in, looking lovely in a blue dress that complimented her eyes and with her hair coming loose from its bun, a testament to the games she’d been playing with my daughters.

I explained the fundraiser to her, and she obviously caught on to why I thought she might like to show her support. She agreed we should go, if I wanted to, and when I said I did, she thanked me sincerely, her eyes warm.

I gave her a smile, noticing her heart beat out a slightly irregular rhythm. It irritated me that she was obviously worried I’d hear it, and then I realized I was hiding my own heart’s rhythm from her, as though she were a werewolf. A little more abruptly than I should have, I dismissed her and then asked Travis to see if he could dig up anything on the black account before he left for the evening.

Alone in my study, I stood there, reminding myself of a few highly pertinent facts.

“Get a grip, Zane Cavendish,” I finally said aloud. “We both know what can and can’t happen here. Get a grip.”