Chapter 6

SHANNON.

My knees gave way so suddenly that I didn’t even feel them buckle.

Thank God, George was there to catch me before I hit the floor.

“Hey... hey, honey! Are you okay?” His voice was full of raw panic.

The whole place was tilting violently, like I was on a ride that just launched straight into hell. And I suddenly felt like emptying my bowels.

My heart began to race so fast that I thought it would explode from being overworked.

George steadied me, his worried gaze raking over me. "Baby?"

“Uh… Y-Yes,” I stammered. I forced a swallow down the lump in my throat. “Just… the shoes. I think they’re too tight.”

It was the worst lie I’d ever told, and even I didn’t believe myself.

George nodded, like he wanted to believe me so bad. “Do you need to sit?” He was already looking around for the next empty seat.

"No. No. I..." I scanned the sea of people, looking for Valerie, but she was nowhere to be found. "Excuse me. I need to find Valerie."

He heaved a sigh of relief when he thought I was okay.

"You can find her after we say hi to the new CEO," George said, already glancing in the direction of the stage. “Everyone’s trying to meet him now. It’ll be harder if we wait any longer.”

He was excited.

Genuinely, innocently excited.

Completely oblivious to the horror show that had just unfolded before my eyes.

He had no idea.

I wanted to grab him, shake him, and yell, 'That’s not just the new CEO, George! That’s my stalker. That’s the man who went to jail for me. That’s my fucking stepbrother.'

But the boldness never came. I had kept way too many secrets away from my dear husband, and I didn't even know how to begin spilling this one.

Instead, a thousand and one questions ran through my mind all at once.

HOW was he out of jail?

WHEN did he get out?

WHERE did he get all that money to purchase an entire company like The Dial?

Kenai had nothing when he went into prison.

So how the hell did he come out as a CEO?

I knew for a fact there was no inheritance anywhere. My poor mother got married to Kenai's father when I was just nine and he was thirteen. We were just two kids forced into a twisted little family.

My stepfather, Lucas, was nothing but a monster. A manipulative, sadistic asshole. He ran a pathetic doughnut shop on the east end of town and pretended like he was Father of the Year. Sometimes I wonder why Mum didn't see through all his facade before it was too late.

He was a deceiver. And Mum was way too trusting and soft-hearted. That's how she fell for a man like him.

While Mum would be away, working double shifts to settle bills and keep the family alive, Luca would take short breaks from his rundown shop, just to come and molest me when I was alone in the house.

He'd press his dough-covered hands on my skin and fill my ears with things no child should ever hear.

So, there. There was no inheritance anywhere for Kenai to have gotten while in jail.

Plus, he was sentenced to life in prison. Did he get a presidential pardon?

God, No.

"Shannon!" George half-yelled, yanking me back to reality.

“What? Jesus, George! You scared me.”

“You zoned out.” He looked at me, confused. Then he leaned in slightly and mumbled something I didn't quite hear. But I think I caught the last two words. "...towards us."

"What?" I asked, confused and distracted.

“The boss.”

My chest locked up.

“No… no, no, no...” I whispered.

I turned my head slowly, as if dragging it through cement.

And there he was.

So close that I could feel the darkness emanating from him. Years in jail couldn't change that. Instead, they refined it and only made it worse.

But he looked... Different.

Kenai had always been rugged and careless — a mess of unkempt hair, old denim, and that wild, unfiltered anger simmering beneath his skin. But this man standing under the lights wasn’t that boy. He was composed, immaculate, and dangerous in a way that hinted money and control.

He was broader now, built like a man who spent his years surviving fists, blades, and silence. His left hand — God — his left hand caught my attention first. Three fingers glinted with rings. They weren’t flashy, but the engravings were intricate. Small carvings I couldn’t make out, but even from this distance, they felt extremely intentional.

His hair was shorter now — neat, slicked back — revealing a sharper jawline and a faint scar near his temple that hadn’t been there before. His suit was charcoal-black, tailored to perfection, with a silver pin glinting against his lapel. From one sleeve, ink crept down his wrist — the faint trace of a tattoo I couldn’t fully see, curling against his skin.

Another line of ink disappeared beneath the collar of his shirt, teasing the edge of his throat.

It was a faint script in a language I couldn’t identify. His collar didn't quite cover it. It looked like it had been done in layers, like someone had gone back over it again and again until the skin looked almost burned.

And his eyes... God. They made my stomach twist. Even though I couldn't recognize anything... His eyes... They'd haunt me forever.

Before, Kenai’s eyes had been fire — wild, untamed, and full of something close to emotion he only showed to me. But this man standing here had the eyes of cold, flat steel. They didn’t burn anymore; they dissected. Like he could see through me, past my bones, straight into every sin I’d ever tried to bury.

And when our gazes met in such close proximity, my spirit almost left my body, and I went numb.

The glass slipped from my fingers and shattered against the marble floor.

"Kenai...?" The name left my lips before I could even stop it. And he smiled ever so friendly, in that professional manner that didn't betray any suspicion.

This was Kenai. This had to be him.

"Mr. And Mrs. Walker. It's a pleasure to finally meet you," he said, taking George's hand in a handshake, his eyes still fixed on my transfixed form.

"The pleasure is ours, Mr. Grayson," George said, nudging me to say something. But I guess I had swallowed my tongue somewhere along the line.

Wait. What? G... Grayson?

What the hell was happening?

Oh. I get it. He had to change his name? To what end? What the hell is going on?

"Do have a lovely evening." Kenai said, "Your beloved wife seems a little bit too..." He assessed me, "Uncomfortable around her new boss."

Before George could say any other words, someone got Kenai's attention and walked away with him.

"What the hell, baby?" George snapped at me, "This was our one good chance to have made a perfect impression on the boss. What's going on with you?"

He was clearly pissed.

George has always tried to be on everyone's good side. I don't blame him for wanting to be that way with his new boss. If only he knew what kind of monster hell had just unleashed upon me.

"Excuse me." I walked out of the hall with barely stable feet into the chilled air outside.

I drew in fresh air greedily.

I needed someone to tell me that wasn't Kenai, and that it was his look-alike I just saw. And... He wasn't... He didn't act like he knew me.

Oh, God. But there was no way I was mistaken. I would recognize him in a crowd of a thousand. I would recognize him in the dark.

Just a few hours ago, we confirmed that he was still in prison. I’d seen the photo. The timestamp. The uniform.

My hands fumbled with my phone as I called Valerie, but it was unreachable.

That's strange.

I tried again. Same thing.

A cold panic crawled up my spine. My fingers shook so hard I nearly dropped the phone.

Oh, God.

I felt it deep in my bones that something was definitely wrong tonight. A lot was going wrong, and I couldn't even catch up.

I heard footsteps approaching from behind me, and my heart almost gave out. I spun so fast my vision blurred.

"Oh, God. George. Jesus." I collapsed into him, arms tight around his waist, when I saw he was the one.

He hugged me back, but it seemed a little too rushed.

I felt like spilling the entire truth to my husband. I had to tell him what's going on. Otherwise, I might lose my mind. I needed someone else to confirm to me that I was not crazy.

I pulled back enough to see his face. I could feel the words pushing up my throat. "I have to tell you something, George. I... I... The boss..."

"Babe. We need to head home now," He said in a rush, and my brows narrowed instantly. He sounded so urgent and distracted. He didn't even seem to notice that I'd been crying.

“Why? What’s happening?” My panic spiked hard enough to make my knees soften.

“I got an email from HR.” He cupped my face like he was breaking bad news to a child. Sadness. Hurt. And behind it - God help me - a look I couldn’t read. Pity?

“What is it?” I swallowed around a dry, painful lump.

“I have to leave tonight.”

My stomach dropped so fast I had to grab the edge of a nearby table to steady myself. And I swear, I felt my world coming to an end.