The Billionaire They Couldn’t Break

Chapter 3: Following the Trail

I woke at 5:17 the next morning.

Amara was asleep beside me.

For several seconds, I remained still.

The bedroom was dark except for the faint light slipping through the curtains. Westbridge was beginning to wake beneath us, but sixty floors above the streets, the city sounded distant.

Quiet.

Almost harmless.

Amara slept on her side with one hand beneath the pillow.

Her hair covered part of her face.

She looked exactly the same as she had every morning for the past three years.

That was the problem.

Nothing had changed.

Except me.

Twenty-four hours ago, waking beside my wife meant deciding whether I could afford another ten minutes in bed before work.

This morning, I was wondering whether the woman sleeping inches away from me had entered my office and stolen information worth hundreds of millions of dollars.

My eyes dropped to the phone charging on her nightstand.

Registered device.

Marcus's words returned immediately.

The Blackstone file had been accessed using Amara's account.

Two-factor authentication had been approved from her phone.

Someone had entered my private office.

Someone had searched through my father's files.

Could all of it have been fabricated?

Yes.

Was I prepared to believe that simply because the alternative hurt more?

No.

Amara moved.

I looked away before her eyes opened.

"You're awake."

Her voice was thick with sleep.

"So are you."

"Only because you're staring at the ceiling like it offended you."

A smile almost came.

Almost.

She moved closer and rested her head against my chest.

Normally, my arm would have gone around her without thinking.

This time, it took effort.

She noticed.

"You barely slept."

"I slept."

"Damian."

"Four hours is sleep."

"Normal people would disagree."

"I've never claimed to be normal."

She smiled against my chest.

There it was again.

That easy familiarity.

The version of us I'd never questioned.

"You have a meeting early?" she asked.

"Seven."

"With who?"

My eyes moved toward the ceiling.

The question itself was ordinary.

Amara asked about my schedule all the time.

But now nothing sounded ordinary.

"Finance."

"That sounds painfully exciting."

"It pays for your shoes."

Her head lifted.

"My shoes?"

"Among other expensive habits."

"I have one expensive habit."

"What?"

"You."

That earned the smile she'd been trying to get.

She looked pleased.

Then she leaned forward and kissed me.

My hand settled against her waist.

For one dangerous second, instinct won.

She was my wife.

The woman I'd chosen.

The woman who knew how I liked my coffee and hated when I worked through dinner.

The woman who had sat beside my mother at every family event after our wedding.

The woman who had held my hand when we visited my father's grave.

Nathaniel Cole.

My father's archive.

My hand stopped moving.

Amara pulled back.

"Where did you go?"

"Nowhere."

"You keep doing that."

"Doing what?"

"Leaving while you're standing right in front of me."

Something almost sounded hurt in her voice.

For the first time since Marcus showed me that login, anger appeared.

Not because I knew she was guilty.

Because if she was, she had no right to look hurt.

I moved out of bed.

"Work."

"Damian."

Headed toward the bathroom.

"Go back to sleep."

The door closed behind me.

Only then did I release the breath I'd been holding.

Marcus was waiting inside my office at 6:48.

He looked like he'd slept even less than I had.

Two coffees sat on my desk.

I took one.

"Tell me you found something."

"Good morning to you too."

"Marcus."

"Right."

He opened his laptop.

"We reconstructed most of yesterday."

Sat behind the desk.

"Amara?"

"At eleven in the morning, she left your penthouse."

"Where?"

"Maison Avery."

Knew the place.

Luxury boutique.

Amara had been shopping there for years.

"How long?"

"Forty minutes."

"Then?"

"Lunch at the Grand Regent."

"With?"

"Elena Marsh."

One of Amara's closest friends.

"At twelve forty-seven, Elena left. Amara remained at the hotel."

"Until?"

"That's where it gets interesting."

Marcus turned the laptop toward me.

A still image from a security camera appeared.

Amara stood in the Grand Regent lobby wearing sunglasses and carrying a handbag.

The timestamp read 1:03 p.m.

"She left through the front entrance," Marcus said.

"Car?"

"Her driver was waiting."

"Then why is this interesting?"

"Because the driver says she told him to take the afternoon off."

My fingers tightened slightly around the coffee cup.

"She dismissed him?"

"At one fifteen."

"Where did she go?"

"We don't know."

"How do we not know?"

"She entered the hotel again."

I stared at him.

"There are twelve cameras inside that lobby."

"I know."

"And?"

"No footage of her leaving."

"Then she's still there."

Marcus didn't laugh.

Neither did I.

He clicked again.

"This is the service entrance."

Another image appeared.

A delivery truck.

Employees.

Nothing unusual.

"What am I looking at?"

"Time."

1:26 p.m.

"After this," Marcus said, "the service entrance camera went offline for thirty-two minutes."

My gaze lifted.

"Another camera failure."

"Exactly."

The hallway camera outside my office had gone down at 2:07.

Amara's credentials accessed my office at 2:14.

"Distance between the hotel and here?"

"About fifteen minutes without traffic."

Meaning she could have made it.

Easily.

"When did she appear again?"

"Three thirty-eight."

"Where?"

"Cole Dominion lobby."

The party preparations had started shortly after.

I'd been inside meetings all afternoon.

Amara hadn't come to my office.

At least, that was what I'd believed.

"What did she tell you?" Marcus asked.

"About yesterday?"

"Yeah."

I thought about it.

Nothing.

She'd talked about the party.

My speech that never happened.

Guests.

Her father.

Not once had she mentioned spending over two hours somewhere without her driver.

"She didn't."

Marcus leaned back.

"Maybe she had something private."

"My wife doesn't disappear in the middle of Westbridge without security."

"She does sometimes."

"Not for two hours."

Silence settled between us.

Marcus closed one window and opened another.

"There's more."

I'd started hating those words.

"What?"

"The archive."

My father's files appeared on the screen.

"Whoever entered it wasn't searching randomly."

"How do you know?"

"Three folders were opened."

He listed them.

"Northbridge Capital. Harrington Legal. And Victor Hayes."

The room went still.

Victor.

My coffee suddenly tasted bitter.

"Anything copied?"

"Not from what we can tell."

"Deleted?"

"No."

"Then what were they looking for?"

"That's what I'm trying to figure out."

Stood and moved toward the windows.

Morning sunlight was beginning to hit the buildings across Westbridge.

People were going to work.

Businesses opening.

Normal life.

Behind me, Marcus spoke carefully.

"You need to consider the possibility that Amara is involved."

Didn't turn.

"I am."

"You don't sound like it."

"What would you prefer? That I throw her out of the penthouse based on a login record?"

"No."

"Then we're not having this conversation."

"Damian."

Turned.

He stopped.

"You find facts," I said. "I decide what they mean."

His jaw tightened.

Marcus wasn't intimidated easily.

That was why I trusted him.

"What if the facts are already telling us?"

"They aren't."

He studied me.

"Fine."

"Anything on Victor?"

"We're working on it."

"Work faster."

My phone vibrated.

Amara.

Breakfast at home tonight? No guests. No phones. Just us.

Read it twice.

Then replied.

Eight.

Three dots appeared almost immediately.

I'll cook.

That was almost enough to make me laugh.

Amara could barely boil water.

Then I'll order an ambulance in advance.

Her reply came seconds later.

Very funny. I hate you.

My thumb stopped over the screen.

I hate you.

A joke.

Obviously.

Still, something about the words stayed with me.

Marcus watched from across the desk.

"What?"

"Nothing."

Locked the phone.

"Create a new acquisition file."

He frowned.

"For what?"

"Anything."

"Fake?"

"Completely."

His expression slowly changed.

"What are you planning?"

"Nothing complicated."

Walked back to the desk.

"Make it look real. Eight hundred million. Foreign company. Confidential board acquisition."

"And?"

"Put it somewhere only executive-level accounts can access."

Marcus understood.

"Bait."

"Exactly."

"If someone opens it?"

"We follow them."

"And if it's Amara?"

Didn't answer immediately.

Because that was the question I'd been avoiding since last night.

What would I do if it really was her?

My wife.

Victor Hayes's daughter.

The woman I'd trusted despite every reason not to.

"We find out why."

Marcus nodded slowly.

His laptop chimed.

An email.

He glanced at it.

Then his expression changed.

"What?"

"Security pulled something from an external traffic camera."

He opened the attachment.

The image was grainy.

A black sedan stopped across from the Grand Regent at 1:31 yesterday afternoon.

A woman stepped toward it.

Sunglasses.

Dark hair.

Amara.

The camera caught her profile clearly enough.

My eyes shifted toward the driver's side.

The man behind the wheel wasn't visible.

But the license plate was.

Marcus searched it.

The registration appeared.

For a moment, neither of us spoke.

The vehicle belonged to Hayes Holdings.

My wife's father's company.

Marcus looked at me.

"Damian."

I kept staring at the screen.

At 1:31 yesterday afternoon, Amara had left her driver behind.

Twenty-three minutes later, her father's car had collected her outside the hotel.

Forty-three minutes after that, someone using her credentials had entered my office.

Last night, Victor had told everyone he'd changed his mind about attending my party.

Another coincidence.

Too many of those were beginning to gather around my wife.

"Do you want me to ask her about it?"

"No."

"Then what?"

My eyes remained on the image.

Amara getting into Victor's car.

A father picking up his daughter shouldn't have meant anything.

Except she hadn't told me.

And Victor Hayes had spent fourteen years giving me reasons not to ignore secrets.

"Find out where that car went."

Marcus nodded.

I picked up my phone.

Another message from Amara waited on the screen.

Don't be late tonight. I have something important to tell you.

Stared at the words.

Maybe she planned to explain everything.

Maybe she knew I was suspicious.

Or maybe whatever game had started yesterday was about to move again.

Either way, tonight I would sit across from my wife and listen.

And for the first time since our wedding, I wouldn't believe a single word until I proved it myself.