26

Chapter 26

Brittany’s Pov

I practically went home very excited after I had left Darcy’s office, my pulse still quick from the win.

Sitting in the car when I parked at the garage, I pressed my fingers to my lips, remembering how our mouths had brushed, just a quick, teasing kiss but it had cracked something in Darcy.

For a heartbeat I saw him softening, then he closed back off. That small slip felt like progress.

The house smelled like dinner and money. In the dining room my parents were already seated. My mommy sitting next to my dad as usual, my father in his business-casual armor. They looked up as I came in.

“Brittany, darling,” Mom said, smiling. “You look radiant. What’s making you so happy?”

I lifted a wine glass and took a sip, buying time. “Just a good day,” I said, keeping my voice light.

Dad’s eyes studied me the way they always did—precise, searching. “You’ve been beaming since you got back. That’s not ‘just a good day.’”

I raised my shoulders a bit and pretended to concentrate on my fish filet . “Can’t a girl be happy without being interrogated?”

“Not when that girl is my daughter and she’s been anxious for weeks,” he countered. “What happened today?”

I wasn’t ready to tell them about Darcy yet. I needed results before I let anyone else in. “Just…things falling into place,” I said, coyly.

They exchanged a look that said they didn’t understand it all, but Dad let it go.

We had other conversations from business investments to charity galas, deals, while I smiled and nodded, my mind already moving ahead.

At the end of the meal I took a chance. “Dad, have you spoken with Darcy’s father? Any update on the merger?”

He wiped his mouth with a serviette,“Richard and I stay in touch. We’re in the final stages of the contract.”

“But when will you tell Darcy?” I pressed. “When will you meet to finalize everything?”

“At the end of the month, as planned,” he said, patting my hand. “These things take time. We’ll present it when everything is aligned.”

The end of the month felt both far away and dangerously close. Every day Darcy spent near Adrian was a day Adrian could root herself deeper into his life. I needed time to lay my groundwork.

I smiled and said, “I trust you Daddy.”

“Always,” he said, firmly.

After dinner I went up to my room, painted in white and gold and perfectly arranged. I kicked off my heels and scrolled through social media like everyone else: an endless feed, but nothing on Adrian. No accounts, no photos, no breadcrumbs. It was like she’d been scrubbed clean.

Frustration rose hot and quick. How do you dismantle someone you can’t find?

I switched to old news articles. I searched for Adrian’s arrest and found only sparse facts—charges, sentences, nothing about family, no real background.

But I recalled information Jackson had given me: she used to work as a stripper. That meant a network, people with memories, receipts, stories. If her digital life was gone, the clubs she worked in would remember.

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The next day, I drove to the strippers club's location.

The Velvet Room was easy to spot—an upscale gentlemen’s club that smoothed its edges for wealthy clients. I dressed to blend: designer but low-key, hair pulled back, makeup minimal. I wanted to be taken seriously, not a socialite wasting time.

Inside, it smelled like perfume and late hours. It was nearly empty, but I saw dancers rehearsing, staff prepping for the night. A woman in her forties with an expensive but tired kind of face met me. Linda Chen, is the general manager of the strippers club.

“I’m here to get information on a former employee,” I said,boldly “Adrian Martinez.”

Linda’s expression softened. “Adrian. Yes, I remember Adrian. Quiet girl. Kept to herself.”

We moved to her cramped office. She hesitated, at first club confidentiality is a thing but money makes things easier. I put five hundred-dollar bills on her desk. That did the trick.

“She was an orphan,” Linda said after a moment. “Lived with an aunt for a while. I started here at nineteen to pay for college. She was shy, worked hard. Then she got arrested.”

“Relationships?” I asked. “Any men connected to her?”

Linda’s eyes shifted. “There was a man. Martin—something. I didn’t catch his last name. He came by a couple times. Charming, dangerous sort. After Adrian’s arrest, he disappeared. Rumor is he moved on to worse business.”

I pushed another stack of bills across the desk. Her interest sharpened. She pulled out her phone and showed me grainy security footage: a handsome man with that easy, predatory confidence. Linda said she’d kept the clip because she felt uneasy about him.

“That’s him,” she confirmed.

My pulse sped. Martin might be the lever I needed. If he’d pulled Adrian into trouble once, he might still have connections—people who knew things, or people who could be persuaded to talk.

“How do I find him?” I asked.

“That will cost you more,” she said, the truth of it plain and unembarrassed.

I wrote a check for an amount that made her eyes widen. She took it without a word, then scribbled an address on a scrap of paper and slid it across. “He lives in a downtown penthouse,” she said. “One of my girls dated his business partner. It’s fancy. He keeps to himself more now.”

“Anything else?” I asked.

Linda hesitated. “About four months ago Adrian came back. Asked if I’d hire her again. I said no—too risky. She looked desperate.”

That detail landed differently than I expected. Desperate enough to ask for a job at the club again. Vulnerable. Needing.

That made Adrian less of a threat on paper and more fragile—easier to manipulate behind the scenes if I wanted to play the long game. But fragile people can also snap. I filed the thought away.

I stood, smoothing my skirt. “Thank you, Linda. This helps.”

She watched me leave with the guarded look of someone who’d been paid to keep secrets. The money in her drawer would keep her quiet.

Outside, sunlight was hot on the skin. I folded the paper with Martin’s address into my bag and walked to my car, the air buzzing with possibility.

I could hire someone to make contact—preferable, professional, invisible.

No.

I will go myself.I want to know the kind of man he is. If he's someone I can use or someone I will break.

I dialed a number I keep for situations that require discretion. A firm, gruff voice answered, he was someone who handles unseemly tasks with calm competence.

“I have a job,” I said. “A man named Martin. I need to meet him.”

“Details?” the voice asked.

I gave the address. “I want him, approached delicately. Find out what ties he has, who he deals with. If he’s still dangerous, I want leverage, documents, associates, anything that links back to Adrian. If he can be persuaded, I want him on my side.”

There was a pause. “You want this quiet?”

“Very quiet,” I said. “Nothing illegal that points back to me. I want options—intelligence, not violence. But be prepared for complications.”

The man agreed. We arranged to reconvene after he’d done initial legwork.

After I hung up, I sat in the driver’s seat and let my mind run through scenarios. Martin could be a path to dirt on Adrian, or he could be a live wire that made my plan more dangerous.

Either way, I needed more than hearsay. I needed to know his temperament, his current alliances, whether he had something to lose.

The thought of Darcy kept me steady. He believed in helping those people in his life—he had a soft, impossible streak for the wounded.

That streak was a liability I intended to exploit, at least until I’d secured him for myself. If Adrian’s past could be used to scare Darcy back into the fold, I’d do it without flinching.

One thing felt clear: this was my game. Jackson had been unreliable; my parents were useful but not hands-on.I liked it that way. I trusted myself more than what anyone else thought. This play needed a careful hand and a bold heart.

I imagined approaching Martin: measured, confident. Watching him for cracks. Seeing whether he was still the dangerous charmer Linda described. If he could be softened, I might use his regret or fear or my body to control a narrative. If he was beyond reach, I would find his weaknesses and ignite them quietly.

I told myself I was acting to protect my future. But there was another truth I didn’t say aloud: I wanted to win. I wanted Darcy and I wanted to be the one who shaped his life. I wanted to be the reason he chose stability and status over messy compassion. Whether that made me noble or cruel didn’t matter—only the outcome did.

By evening I had a plan and a small stack of receipts that proved I’d started. I told myself to wait for results, for my ally’s report, for the perfect moment to move. Patience has always been a strength of mine; I would use it now, sharpening quiet actions into decisive strikes.

Before bed I replayed the kiss with Darcy. It was small, but it had left a mark. If I kept chipping away, if I controlled the right stories and the right people, I could turn that crack into a break. I could position myself where he couldn’t ignore me.

Outside my window the city gleamed. Inside, my life looked clean, controlled—everything a future queen of a fortune needed to look like. But control is a verb, not a state. It requires doing things others won’t. Tonight I had started.

I dialed my contact one more time. “Keep me posted,” I said.

“Will do.”

"One more thing, Linda Chen knows too much.” I said, "Make her disappear but make sure you get all the money I gave her."

"Anything for you."

I switched off my light and let the plan settle around me like silk and it would be beautiful and dangerously sharp.