CHAPTER FOUR

“I slept with him.”

The words came out of Kassy’s father like a confession ripped loose by force, not choice. He didn’t soften them. Didn’t explain them. Just said them—raw, exposed, irreversible.

His best friend froze mid-step.

“You what?”

“You said he was your partner,” the friend said carefully. “I thought you meant business.”

“I didn’t meet him in a boardroom. I met him in a strip club.”

Greg said it like a man ripping off his own skin.

His best friend didn’t laugh. Didn’t flinch. Just stared at him, waiting—because some truths arrive so bluntly they leave no room for disbelief, only consequence.

“A friend took me there,” Greg continued. “Said he knew a place where men went when they wanted to forget who they were. He said there was a special guy. Someone who didn’t just perform, but made you feel chosen.”

He paused, jaw tightening.

“That guy was Jamal.”

The name sat heavy between them.

“Jamal was working there,” Greg went on. “Not openly. Private rooms. Masked appearances. No real names. That was the rule. You paid for discretion, not faces.”

His friend leaned back slowly. “And you wore a mask.”

“Yes,” Greg said. “I always did. Different cities, different masks. I never wanted anyone to recognize me. That life was supposed to stay sealed off from my real one.”

“But Jamal didn’t know who you were,” his friend said.

“No,” Greg replied. “To him, I was just another client.”

The word tasted bitter in his mouth.

“That night,” Greg continued, “I didn’t go there looking for him. I didn’t even know him. I went there because I was lonely and reckless and stupid enough to think I could split myself into two people and never let them collide.”

His friend stayed quiet.

“The mask worked,” Greg said. “I spoke less. Let him talk. Let him guide the moment. He was… professional. Controlled. Kind, even. Nothing about it felt violent or wrong in the way people imagine those places to be.”

He stopped.

“And that’s what terrifies me most.”

His friend frowned. “You slept with him.”

“Yes,” Greg said. “Once.”

“Just once?”

“Yes.”

The room felt tighter now, not because of shock, but because of how cleanly the truth had been laid out.

His friend stared at him. “And now that same man is engaged to your daughter.”

“Yes.”

“And they’ve been together for four years,” his friend added slowly.

Kassy’s father nodded. “Four.”

Greg let out a hollow breath. “Engaged. Pregnant.”

But what is crazy is the fact that this happened two years ago, meaning he cheated on my daughter with me.

His friend shook his head. “And Jamal had no idea.”

“None,” Greg said. “To him, that night was anonymous. Disposable. Just another job.”

“But not to you.”

“No,” Greg admitted. “To me, it was supposed to be buried.”

He rubbed his hands together, restless. “When I saw him in my living room, smiling at Kassy like she was the safest place on earth, I almost couldn’t breathe.”

“You recognized him immediately.”

“Yes,” Greg said. “His voice hadn’t changed. His eyes hadn’t changed. And neither had the memory.”

“And he didn’t recognize you.”

“No,” Greg repeated. “Not without the mask.”

“And now,” his friend said, voice steady, “there’s already too much damage for silence to work.”

Greg stared at the floor. “If she finds out the truth—”

“She’ll lose everything,” his friend finished.

“Yes.”

“And if she doesn’t?”

Greg’s voice dropped. “Then I will.”

His friend sighed. “You’re choosing which disaster you can live with.”

“Yes,” Greg said.

“And you chose yourself.”

The accusation hung there.

Greg didn’t deny it.

“Jamal doesn’t even know you exist in that way,” his friend said. “To him, you’re just her father.”

“And that’s all I will ever be,” Greg replied firmly. “Nothing more.”

“Until the past speaks,” his friend said.

Greg stood up abruptly. “The past is done.”

His friend looked at him sadly. “You met him in a place built on anonymity. You built this on secrets. Those things never stay quiet.”

Greg walked away from the conversation knowing one thing with terrifying certainty:

The night he paid a masked stranger to make him feel wanted had followed him home.

It had taken his daughter’s hand.

And now, no matter what he did next, the truth was already circling—waiting for the moment when silence would no longer be enough.