บททั้งหมดของ MASKED AND RUINED: บทที่ 21 - บทที่ 30

Chapter Twenty-OneVoss Holdings' legal team moved fast once Grant's financial records landed on the general counsel's desk. Within an hour, a private investigator the company retained for exactly this kind of crisis was pulling flight manifests, credit card activity, anything that might explain where Camille Renard had gone after failing to appear for a meeting she'd requested herself only the day before."Her passport hasn't been used," the investigator said, laying a folder across Alaric's dining table late that afternoon. "Her car's still in the Voss Holdings garage. Her phone's been off since eleven this morning, which is either very smart or very telling, depending on what she's planning.""Or she's not planning anything," Theo said quietly from the corner of the room, where he'd been sitting since Wren called him with the news, pale and visibly shaken. "Maybe she panicked. Maybe she's somewhere trying to figure out how bad this actually is before she does something she can't ta

Chapter Twenty-ThreeThey didn't get back to the city until well past midnight, the drive south quiet except for the low hum of the radio Priya had insisted on turning on somewhere around the halfway point, needing something, anything, to fill the silence after the night they'd all just survived. Wren sat curled against the passenger window, watching the dark highway blur past, replaying Camille's exhausted confession over and over, unable to fully settle into relief or grief or anything in between.Alaric's penthouse felt different when they finally walked in. Quieter, heavier, the adrenaline of the last twelve hours draining out of both of them all at once now that there was nothing left to do but wait for morning."You should sleep," Wren said, watching him loosen his tie with hands that were visibly shaking now that the crisis had, temporarily, stopped demanding his full attention."I don't think I can," he admitted. "Every time I close my eyes I keep seeing that dock. Seeing her

Chapter Twenty-FiveThe literary agent's name was Fiona Marsh, and she wasted no time getting to the point once Wren returned her call the next afternoon. "I'll be direct, Ms. Ashby. What happened to you, your father, Voss Holdings, all of it, is exactly the kind of story publishers fight over. Redemption, betrayal, corporate intrigue, a love story nobody saw coming. I can get you a deal by the end of the week if you want it."Wren sat with the phone pressed to her ear, staring out at the city from her own apartment for the first time in days, and found herself hesitating in a way she hadn't expected. "I need to think about it," she said. "Some of the people in that story are still living through the consequences of it. I don't want to profit off their pain without their knowledge.""That's an unusually principled first response," Fiona said, sounding genuinely surprised. "Most people call me back already drafting the outline.""I'm not most people right now," Wren said. "Give me a fe

Chapter Twenty-SevenNobody slept that night. Marisol worked her phone relentlessly, trying to reach the mayor's office through back channels discreet enough not to raise alarm, while Priya coordinated with Voss Holdings' security team to monitor every major outlet for any sign of what Adrian Cole intended to release at the mayor's event. Wren sat at the center of it all, laptop open, running every search she could think of to build a fuller picture of the man threatening to unravel everything they'd only just managed to stabilize."He's a ghost," she said finally, close to two in the morning, rubbing her eyes. "No public record past about eight years ago. No property in his name, no known employer, nothing on social media. Whoever Adrian Cole used to be, he's spent the last several years making sure nobody could easily find him again.""That tracks with someone rebuilding an identity specifically to disappear," Alaric said, pacing near the window of his office, tie long gone, exhaus

Chapter Twenty-NineThe security contractors moved first, methodical and cautious, clearing the path toward the greenhouse with the kind of practiced calm that did little to settle the dread coiling tight in Wren's chest. Alaric stayed close beside her, one hand at the small of her back, his jaw set with the particular tension of a man prepared for a confrontation he'd been dreading for fifteen years without ever knowing its name.The greenhouse sat behind the main house, glass panels fogged with humidity, greenery grown wild and untended inside. A man sat waiting on a wrought iron bench near the center of it, unhurried, watching their approach with an expression that held none of the menace Wren had braced herself for. He looked ordinary. Late fifties, gray at the temples, dressed simply, the kind of man who might have passed unnoticed in any boardroom or coffee shop in the city."Alaric Voss," he said, standing slowly as they entered, security contractors fanning out discreetly alon