Chapter 8 - THE WOMAN WHO REFUSED TO BE BOUGHT
Two weeks passed without a message from Vincent.
I missed him.
That annoyed me.
I missed his quiet humor.
The way he listened without interrupting.
The strange softness in his face when I laughed.
But I had asked him to stay away.
And he had respected it.
Meanwhile, I returned to work.
The first day was awful.
Customers stared.
Some whispered.
One woman asked whether I could introduce her to Vincent.
Another asked how much he'd paid me to kiss him.
I smiled until my cheeks hurt.
Then went into the storage room and cried.
Marco, the dishwasher, found me there.
He handed me a clean towel.
"You okay?"
I shook my head.
He sat beside me.
"People are idiots."
I laughed through tears.
"That's comforting."
He shrugged.
"My oldest daughter says the same thing about me."
We sat in silence.
Then he said, "Emily, you helped me when nobody else would."
I looked at him.
"You don't have to prove anything to these people."
I wiped my face.
"Thanks, Marco."
That afternoon, a woman approached my table during my break.
She was in her late thirties, with dark hair pulled into a neat bun and a leather briefcase.
"Emily Carter?"
I looked up.
"Yes?"
"My name is Rebecca Shaw. I'm an attorney."
My stomach tightened.
"Who sent you?"
"Nobody. I represent a group of former employees involved in litigation against companies connected to Sebastian Rourke."
I stared.
She sat only after I nodded.
"I've been trying to contact you because someone has been using your personal information to pressure you."
"How do you know?"
"Several of my clients received similar offers."
She opened her briefcase.
Inside were copies of scholarship agreements.
Employment contracts.
Settlement offers.
All contained unusual confidentiality clauses.
"Rourke uses financial pressure to silence people who may know something damaging."
I studied the papers.
"What does this have to do with Vincent?"
Rebecca hesitated.
"Four years ago, Isabella Moretti was helping our clients trace missing redevelopment funds."
My heart pounded.
"She died."
"Yes."
Rebecca's expression hardened.
"And shortly before her death, she gave us partial records showing that Rourke-controlled companies were moving public money through false construction invoices."
"Did Vincent know?"
"He knew Isabella was investigating. He didn't know how much she'd found."
I swallowed.
"Why are you telling me?"
"Because we believe Rourke is trying to use you to force Vincent into selling the waterfront terminals."
I stared at her.
"How?"
"If Vincent believes you and your mother are in danger, he may surrender the properties to make the pressure stop."
I felt sick.
"And Tyler?"
Rebecca's face darkened.
"We have reason to believe he's been paid to provide information about you."
I closed my eyes.
Of course.
Tyler had spent three years convincing me I wasn't worth loving.
Now he was selling information about me to a stranger.
Rebecca leaned forward.
"Emily, you don't have to become involved in this investigation."
I looked up.
"But?"
"But if you choose to help, we can connect you with investigators and explain how to preserve the messages you've received."
I considered the offer.
For weeks, everyone had treated me like a weakness.
A bargaining chip.
A woman who could be frightened into obedience.
I was tired of it.
"Okay," I said.
Rebecca nodded.
"Okay?"
May you like
I looked her in the eyes.
"Let's make sure they don't get to do this to anyone else."
