The man they called insane

I have proof

THREE DAYS AGO

The Wicker Dynamics tower stood in the middle of the financial district. All glass and steel.

Damien stood by the floor-to-ceiling window on the forty-second floor. He couldn't wrap his head around what he was seeing.

He had known something was wrong for a while now. He'd noticed the little discrepancies in the quarterly reports being sent to him. The three percent differences in transfers. The changed routing numbers. The merger team reports that didn't match vendor invoices. They seemed like small things. But put together, they painted a clear picture: someone was draining the company.

What he hadn't prepared for was discovering that someone was Adrian.

Adrian had been shifting money into accounts Damien didn't recognize. Accounts he didn't even know existed. He was bleeding the company dry. Slowly. Quietly. For months.

If it had been someone else, it wouldn't hurt this much. But this came from a man he'd shared everything with. A man who had become like a brother.

There had to be a reason. Adrian wouldn't betray him out of nowhere. He refused to believe it. He'd give Adrian a chance to explain. But first, he'd have to block all his access to company funds.

He picked up his phone to call his lawyer. Then he remembered: he'd need the original partnership contract. It was in the safe in his study at home.

He checked his watch. 9:47 PM. Serena would still be at her charity gala. Good. It would give him time to think about how to tell her. This would hurt her deeply.

"Cancel my ten o'clock," he told his assistant on his way out. "I won't be coming back tonight."

The drive to the penthouse took twenty minutes. He spent it thinking about how to handle Adrian. He'd try to be subtle. Just in case there was an underlying problem.

The penthouse was dark except for the hallway lights Serena always left on. He dropped his keys on the marble table by the door and headed for the study.

That was when he heard it.

A sound from upstairs. From their bedroom.

At first, he thought someone had broken in. But as he got closer, the sound became clearer. A low, steady thumping against the headboard. Then a breathy laugh.

A laugh he knew all too well.

He stopped in the middle of the foyer. Every instinct screamed at him to turn back. Instead, he went toward the stairs.

The bedroom door was slightly open. He pushed it a couple of inches.

His mouth fell open.

They hadn't noticed him. He doubted they would. Tangled in the silk sheets were his loving wife and his so-called best friend. Adrian's hand was on her hip. Her legs were wrapped around his waist.

But worse than the sex was what they were saying.

"...the final transfer clears Friday," Adrian murmured into her throat. "By the time he notices the holding company is empty, we'll be in Geneva."

Serena laughed. "He won't notice. He's too busy being Damien Wicker, the great man building his empire. He trusts us completely."

"He trusts you completely." Adrian kissed her collarbone. "Five years of acting. Five years of fake orgasms and fake loyalty. You deserve a prize."

"Oh, I'll get one." She arched against him. "Do you know how high I'll rank when I take over as chairwoman of Wicker Dynamics? They'll grovel at my feet. And the best part?" She turned her head toward the door—not at him, just toward the world outside their bubble. "He'll never know why. He'll die in a hospital bed thinking he failed somehow. Thinking he went crazy."

Damien's nails dug into the doorframe so hard the wood splintered.

So this was it. His entire life had been one big lie. She had never loved him. He was just a ladder for her to climb.

The realization broke something inside him.

What hurt more was that his parents had known. They had been against the marriage. He had been in love. He had threatened to kill himself if they didn't give their blessing.

They had been right about her.

He stepped back. His heel hit the edge of the hallway rug.

Thump.

Serena's head turned. "Did you hear that?"

He was already moving. Down the stairs. Phone in hand. Calling his lawyer.

James Whitfield picked up on the second ring. "Damien? It's late."

"James, listen carefully. I need divorce papers drawn up tonight. And an emergency order freezing all Wicker Dynamics assets—especially the merger accounts. I have proof Adrian Cross is running a fraud."

A long pause.

"Proof," Whitfield repeated. His voice had changed. Gone was the warm, fatherly tone he'd used for ten years. Now it was flat. Cold. "What kind of proof, Damien? Are you sure about this?"

"I have everything, James. An audio recording of his confession. Screenshots of the accounts. Every goddamn thing."

"Stay where you are," Whitfield said. "Don't leave the house. I'll send someone over. I'll come myself."

"You don't need to. Just draw up the papers."

"I need to see the evidence first, Damien. This could just be a misunderstanding. I mean, it's Adrian we're talking about. Just give me some time. I'll come over."

The line went dead.

Damien stared at the phone.

Then it hit him.

Whitfield was with them too.

He grabbed his laptop and the contract from the safe. He needed to get to his backup office—the one they didn't know about. He needed to—

The study door opened slowly.

Serena stood there wearing his robe. She didn't look surprised or angry. There wasn't even a bit of remorse on her face. She just shook her head and sighed.

"How much did you hear?" she asked.

He backed toward the window. "Enough."

"Damien." Her voice was soft. Concerned. The mask still in place. "You're not thinking straight. You've been under so much pressure. The company. The merger. It's made you paranoid."

"Drop the act. I know the truth now. I heard everything. I saw everything."

She sighed. "That's a shame."

Adrian appeared behind her. He was holding a gun. A Glock with a silencer on the barrel.

Damien's blood went cold.

"You don't have to do this," he said. "Take the money. Take the company. Just let me walk away."

Adrian smiled. "You know that's not how this works."

Serena walked toward him. Slowly. Letting him see every detail. The way the robe slipped off one shoulder. The way her eyes held his with the same fake warmth she'd used for five years.

"You look tired, love," she whispered.

She reached into the robe pocket and pulled out a small vial. Clear liquid. A needle.

Damien lunged for the window.

He wasn't fast enough.

Adrian's fist caught him in the temple. The room spun. He crashed into the bookshelf. Books tumbled down around him. He tried to get up, but Adrian hit him again—in the stomach this time. All the air left his lungs.

Serena knelt beside him. She stroked his hair.

"Shh. It's okay. Everything's going to be okay."

She pressed the needle into his neck.

"No," he gasped. "Serena… please…"

"Heller is already on his way," she said, her voice getting farther and farther away. "He's a friend of the family. He'll take good care of you. And when you wake up, you won't remember any of this. You'll just be a sick man who hurt himself. A sick man who needs to be kept safe."

The room faded.

The last thing he saw was Adrian standing over him, putting the gun away, checking his watch like he was late for another meeting.

The last thing he heard was Serena on the phone.

"Yes, Dr. Heller. He's ready for intake. Room 214, if you please."