REJECTED, THEN THEY FOUND OUT I WAS A BILLIONAIRE

CHAPTER FOUR: THE MESSAGE

Across the city, Marcus Steele stood alone in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows of his penthouse.

The city stretched beneath him, hundreds of lights flickering through the darkness. Usually, he enjoyed the view. Tonight, he barely noticed it.

Behind him, Cara sat quietly on the edge of the sofa. Her makeup was smudged. Her hair, which had looked perfect earlier that evening, had fallen loosely around her face. She kept rubbing her thumb over the side of her finger, again and again, without realizing she was doing it. Neither of them had spoken for several minutes.

Finally, Cara broke the silence. "I didn't want it to happen like that."

Marcus picked up the glass on the table. "But it did."

Cara looked at him. "Marcus..."

He took a slow sip. "You made your choice."

Her lips pressed together. "I know."

"Then stop feeling guilty about it."

She stared at him as if she couldn't believe what she'd heard. "Stop feeling guilty?"

Marcus turned toward her. "You chose me. You knew what you were doing."

"I know what I did."

"Then what's the problem?"

Cara's eyes filled again. "Richard loved me."

Marcus's expression didn't change. "I know."

"He trusted me."

"I know."

"He was standing there in front of everyone." Her voice cracked. "He looked so happy."

She covered her face with both hands. Marcus watched her for a moment, then looked away.

"You'll get over it."

Cara slowly lowered her hands. "How can you say that?"

"Because people always do."

She shook her head. "Not everyone."

Marcus didn't answer. He walked toward the bar and poured himself another drink.

Cara watched him. There was something strange about him tonight. He was too quiet. Too distracted. Even when she had started crying in the car, he had barely reacted. He had simply stared through the windshield, his hands tight around the steering wheel.

"Marcus."

He didn't respond.

"Marcus."

"What?"

She hesitated. "Are you angry with me?"

He looked at her. "No."

"Then why do you look like that?"

"Like what?"

"Like something happened."

Marcus gave a short laugh. "Nothing happened."

Cara didn't believe him. She had spent enough time around him to know when he was lying. She wiped her cheek. "Does this have something to do with Richard?"

Marcus's fingers stopped around the glass. Only for a second. Then he continued drinking. "Why would it?"

"I don't know." Cara looked down at her hands. "Maybe because you kept asking about him."

Marcus's eyes narrowed slightly. "His family."

She looked up. "What about them?"

"Does Richard have any relatives?"

Cara frowned. "Why?"

"Just answer me."

She stared at him. "His mother died years ago. His father died when he was young."

"Anyone else?"

"Not that I know of."

"Uncles?"

"No."

"Cousins?"

"I don't know, Marcus." She sighed and rubbed her forehead. "Why are you asking me this now?"

Marcus didn't answer.

Cara stood. "You know something."

"No."

"You do."

"I said no." His voice was sharper this time.

Cara took a step back. For a moment, neither spoke.

Then Marcus's phone vibrated on the bar. He looked at it. The number wasn't saved. His expression changed. He walked over and picked up the phone.

One message. The Black heir lives.

Marcus stared at the screen. His breathing slowed. He read it again. Then again. The glass in his other hand suddenly felt heavier.

"Marcus?"

He ignored Cara. His eyes remained fixed on the message.

The Black heir. It couldn't be. Richard Black? No. That was impossible. Richard was nobody, a low-level Westbridge employee who lived in a small apartment and worried about whether he could afford lunch at the end of the month. A man who had spent three years trying to build a life with a woman who had just betrayed him. A man Marcus had barely noticed.

Marcus's phone vibrated again. His thumb moved across the screen. Another message appeared.

He has been found.

Marcus's face went pale. The glass slipped slightly from his hand. He caught it before it fell.

"What's wrong?" Cara asked.

"Nothing." This time, his voice wasn't convincing.

Cara stared at him. "Who is it?"

Marcus locked the phone. "No one."

She stepped closer. "Let me see."

Marcus moved the phone behind his back. "Cara."

She stopped. Something in his voice warned her not to push further.

"What is going on?" she asked quietly.

Marcus turned away. He opened the message again. His fingers hovered over the keyboard. Who found him? He typed it. Stopped. Deleted it. Typed again. Deleted that too. He finally locked the phone.

Whatever was happening, he wasn't going to panic. Not yet. He had spent years building his position at Westbridge. He had worked too hard to get where he was. He wasn't about to let some old family secret destroy everything.

But one thought refused to leave his mind. If Richard Black was really the Black heir, nothing about tonight made sense anymore. Marcus looked toward the window. His reflection stared back at him, and suddenly the man he'd watched kneel in that ballroom no longer looked ordinary.

He remembered Richard's face. The hopeful smile. The cheap suit. The trembling hands. The ring.

Marcus's jaw tightened. If the messages were true, then Richard hadn't been poor because he was worthless. He had been poor because someone had made sure he remained poor. And if someone had hidden Richard for twenty years, there had to be a reason. A reason powerful enough to make people afraid.

His phone vibrated a third time.

Marcus looked down, and for the first time since she had met him, Cara saw something in his eyes that frightened her. Fear. It was there and gone in less than a second, but she had seen it.

This message was shorter than the others.

Don't let him reach Blackwell and Grant.

Marcus froze. His eyes slowly widened.

"Blackwell and Grant?"

Cara looked at him. "What?"

He hadn't realized he'd spoken aloud. Marcus stared at the message.

He looked at the clock. Nine seventeen in the morning was still hours away, but hours weren't much of a head start if the people behind these messages had already found Richard tonight.

There were calls to make before then. People to warn, or to silence, or to redirect, and none of that could wait until morning.

Marcus grabbed his coat.

Cara stood. "Where are you going?"

He didn't answer.

"Marcus?"

He stopped at the door. For a moment, he considered telling her. Instead, he turned his head slightly.

"Stay here. I have calls to make."

Then he walked out.

Cara remained standing in the middle of the penthouse, confused. She looked toward the door, then at the empty glass on the table. Something was wrong, something much bigger than her betrayal of Richard.

And somewhere across the city, Richard Black was preparing to meet an attorney who was about to tell him that the life he'd known for twenty-eight years had been a lie, with no idea that the meeting itself had already become a target.