Chapter 12

I glanced between Hunter and Nicole, my patience wearing thin as the tension in the air grew heavier. I waited, hoping Hunter would correct her, explain something, anything. But he didn’t. Instead, he simply grinned, extending his hand toward her.

“We have a lot to talk about,” he said warmly.

I forced a smile, though my teeth clenched so tightly I feared they might shatter. “You know her, honey?” The word tasted bitter in my mouth as I watched his reaction.

Hunter turned to me, his easy smile never faltering. “Nicole is a good friend,” he said, his voice light as if he were sharing an inside joke. The blonde flashed a triumphant smile, and I blinked, confusion and suspicion swirling in my chest. How did he know Nicole? And why did they seem so… comfortable with each other?

Before I could press further, a plump woman emerged from the Rivera mansion, her face a canvas of worry.

“Ma’am, Autumn won’t have lunch,” she said, wringing her hands. The concern in her tone was palpable.

I opened my mouth to respond with concern, but Hunter gently took my arm, pulling me away. “See you around,” he tossed over his shoulder to Nicole, who lingered behind, watching us with an enigmatic smile.

Once inside the mansion, I stumbled toward the nearest chair and sank into it, burying my face in my hands. My mind raced with questions, doubts, and a creeping sense of inadequacy.

“Tiff, are you alright?” Hunter’s voice was soft as he knelt in front of me, his eyes searching mine.

I dropped my hands, staring at him with disbelief. “Why call me Tiff when you know who I am?”

He smiled faintly, a glimmer of tenderness in his expression. “I guess I’m just used to it.”

“I’m fine,” I muttered, wiping a stray tear from my cheek. But I wasn’t fine. Not even close. The housekeeper’s words echoed in my head—Autumn wouldn’t eat. Was she starving herself? Her once radiant face seemed pale, almost ghostly, the light in her eyes dimmed. A pang of guilt pierced my chest.

“Autumn will be fine,” Hunter said, his voice soothing. “The Riveras love her. They won’t harm her.”

“You don’t know that,” I snapped, my voice cracking.

He reached out to brush another tear from my cheek. “I do.”

I flinched away from his touch, the growing storm inside me finding its target. “And what was that back there? Are you faking your identity too?”

Hunter’s jaw tightened, and he shifted his weight before finally sitting down. His calm exterior cracked just slightly, revealing a flicker of unease.

“My name isn’t Hunter, Elaine,” he admitted, his voice low.

I crossed my arms, my nails digging into my skin. “I figured,” I spat. “You’re Lucas Grayson. How didn’t I see it sooner?” I shot to my feet, pacing the room like a caged animal. “Ash told me she’d only known you for two weeks, and the new owner of the bar… Lucas Grayson… bought it four weeks ago. It all adds up now.”

The memories rushed back, slamming into me with brutal clarity. While I had been stumbling through this mess, blinded by my own desperation, he’d been quietly piecing everything together.

“Elaine…” Hunter began, but I cut him off.

“Don’t. Just don’t.” My voice wavered with anger and hurt. “You’ve been gathering information on me, haven’t you?”

He stood, closing the distance between us, his hands reaching for mine. I pulled away sharply, the rejection mirrored in his furrowed brow.

“I don’t understand why you’re mad at me,” he said, his frustration barely masked.

“You lied to me,” I snapped.

“And you’re working under a fake identity too,” he countered, his voice rising to match mine. “Don’t turn this around on me. I’m doing what I have to do for my daughter. What’s your excuse?”

The words hit me like a slap, leaving me breathless. He was right, but I couldn’t admit it. Not now.

“You’re even a cop,” I said bitterly, retreating to the kitchen for a glass of water.

“What does that matter?” he asked, following me.

I laughed humorlessly, shaking my head. “Nothing. I’m just a joke to you, aren’t I? You’ll gather all the information you need and go running to the police!” My voice cracked, and the tears came unbidden.

Hunter’s lips pressed into a thin line, his silence heavier than any words. Without another word, he turned and walked away, his footsteps echoing up the stairs.

“Hunter!” I called after him, but he didn’t reply. He paused at the top of the stairs, his voice calm but distant. “Ash called to check on you earlier.” And then he was gone.

I sank to the floor, the weight of my own mistakes crushing me. What had I done? He could have helped me—he wanted to help me. And I’d pushed him away.

My phone buzzed, and Ash’s name lit up the screen. Her cheerful voice was a balm, though it couldn’t erase my guilt.

“Hey, girl! Miss me already?” she teased.

I managed a weak chuckle. “Always.”

“You sound awful. What happened? Did Hunter want a divorce already?” she joked.

“No,” I said, my voice trembling. I told her everything, from Autumn’s refusal to eat to my confrontation with Hunter.

“Oh, shit,” Ash murmured. “This is bad.”

“I know,” I whispered. “I didn’t mean the things I said. I was just upset.”

“Tell him you’re sorry,” Ash urged. “Hunter’s a good guy. He’ll understand.”

“What if he hates me?”

Ash burst into laughter. “Hunter? Hate you? Never. Just apologize, okay?”

“Okay. I will,” I said, determination creeping back into my voice.

After we hung up, I busied myself in the kitchen, throwing together ingredients for a cheesecake. It wasn’t much, but it was something—a peace offering.

Balancing the plate carefully, I made my way to Hunter’s room and knocked. His voice called from within. “Come in!”

I pushed the door open to find him seated on the bed, his laptop resting on his legs. His gaze followed me as I entered.

“I made this for you,” I said, placing the plate on the nightstand.

He glanced at the cheesecake, then back at me. “We just had lunch.”

Shit.

“I thought you might need it,” I stammered, rubbing the back of my neck.

His lips quirked into an amused smile. “Leave it, then.”

“Hunter?”

“Yes?”

“I’m sorry about earlier. I shouldn’t have said those things. I was just insecure.”

He shook his head, his expression softening. “You thought I’d betray you?”

I opened my mouth to respond, but he held up a hand. “Just… stop. I’m trying to get us into the charity ball coming up. Do you want my help or not?”

I grinned despite myself. “I thought you were mad at me.”

“I could never stay mad at you,” he said, his boyish smile returning. Relief washed over me as I threw my arms around his neck.

“Thank you,” I whispered.

He chuckled. “Now all we need is for you to find a dress.”