Across the lot, near the fence line, a dark sedan sat facing the exit. Engine running. Windows tinted.
Something about it sat wrong, enough to trip the same instinct Darren’s notebook had carved into me—don’t assume, don’t trust, don’t wait. I held the image for one second too long. Then I pulled out, Luke’s SUV falling in behind me.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
LUKE
The moment I stepped through the front door, I knew something was off. It was too quiet. Not empty—the King house was never empty. A phone rang, but my brother, dad, or even Lorne, if he was there, was always having a conversation behind a closed door about contracts, acquisitions, or the next move the company planned to make.
But that night, especially after what we’d found in the storage unit, the quiet felt strained.
My hockey bag dropped beside the back entry bench with a dull thud. I glanced down the hall. The light in Dad’s study burned through the crack beneath the door.
I headed down the hallway. Before I reached the study, raised voices carried into the hall. Dad’s came first—sharp and controlled in the way it always did when he was angry but refusing to show it.
“You assured me this was contained.”
“I assured you the structure was protected,” Lorne shot back, his tone carrying none of Dad’s restraint. “I didn’t assure you no one would start asking questions.”
I slowed automatically. Years in this house had taught me when to step forward and when to stay out of sight.
The study door sat slightly open, not enough to see clearly but more than enough to hear. I stopped in the shadow where the hallway turned toward the stairs.
Dad moved somewhere inside the room. I caught the scrape of his chair against the floor—the sound loud enough that I could picture the look he reserved for Lorne when his patience ran thin.
“This should never have surfaced,” he continued. “The transfers were protected.”
“They were until someone started digging,” Lorne snapped.
“Questions are circulating in places they shouldn’t exist.”
My shoulders tensed. Transfers. That word had surfaced too many times in recent conversations to ignore.
“No one inside King Enterprises is careless enough to expose this,” Dad growled.
“Then where is the pressure coming from?” Lorne demanded. “Because someone is asking the right questions.”
Silence stretched across the room.
“Raising your voices will not resolve the situation,” Drew began evenly.
I hadn’t realized he was in there. His calm tone changed the energy immediately. The silence that followed told me both of them were looking at him now.
“The problem we’re facing is exposure,” Drew continued, “not blame.”
Dad didn’t respond right away. I leaned slightly closer to the door.
“We need to narrow access to the financial records immediately,” Drew went on. “No one outside senior leadership reviews the offshore structures until we determine where these questions originated.”
Dad answered this time, his voice lower. “You’re assuming someone outside the company has access.”
“I’m assuming someone believes they do,” Drew replied.
The distinction hung in the air. Glass clinked somewhere inside the room. Lorne must have poured himself another drink.
“You’re treating this too lightly,” Lorne muttered. “If this reaches the board?—”
“It won’t.” Drew’s voice cut through the room without raising.