Page 95 of Beautifully Scarred Omega

“I’m having a hard time,” Ethan says slowly, “reconciling the Phoebe you’re describing with the Phoebe in our office.”

“What exactly did she say?” Max’s voice cuts through. He’s looking at me now, finally. His green eyes are sharp and focused, the man who needs facts before he’ll believe anything he’s told.

I hold his gaze for the first time since his office. Something sparks in the space between us—quick, electric, and I immediately shut it down, looking away.

I was hoping it wouldn’t come to this, but I knew I had no choice.

I’m sorry, Phoebe.

“Fine.” I look at Finn. “I haven’t deleted it yet. I thought you might want to hear it before I did.” I reach for the device. “Listen for yourselves.”

I tap play.

Phoebe’s voice fills the dining room. The shy, warm, slightly nervous and giggly Phoebe first. I let it run for ten seconds, enough for them to remember what Phoebe is usually like, establishing the baseline.

Then Marc-André’s call begins.

By the time the negotiation plays out—the panic in Phoebe’s voice, the resigned fine, the whispered request that makes Finn go slightly pink across the cheekbones—and Phoebe’s breathless, conspiratorial laugh fills the room and the call ends, Ethan has removed his glasses and is polishing them with a focus that suggests he’d rather be anywhere else, and Max is staring at the device so hard I think it might detonate.

Ethan clears his throat and says, “That’s... I wouldn’t have believed it if I didn’t hear it myself.”

“Maybe he’s her boyfriend,” Finn offers. “Maybe it’s just—I don’t know, a relationship and the financial stuff is just... shared expenses?”

“He’s a male escort, Finn,” I say flatly. “Because I knew the exact time of the call, Declan was able to trace the number. It links back to an agency that provides alpha companionship.” I pause. “He also managed to get into their client database. She’s a regular customer.”

Nobody asks how Declan got into the database.

“Regular,” Ethan repeats slowly. “How regular?”

“She’s spending approximately three to four thousand dollars a month on them, so I’d say pretty regular.”

Finn takes a long drink of water and says nothing.

Ethan leans forward, his elbows on the table, his expression thoughtful.

“We should—I mean, we could help her,” he says. “If this is a compulsion, if she’s struggling financially because of it, there are things we can do as her employer. We could adjust her benefits package. Offer counseling. We have an entire wellness program that covers—” He pauses. His pen taps against the notebook once, twice. “We also have our own products. The suppressant protocols, the sensory management kits, the...”

He stops mid-sentence.

I watch the realization spread across his face. That slow, dawning awareness that he is sitting at a table with his two packmates and a woman they’ve hired, suggesting that they give their employee their own company’s sex toys to address her escort habit.

“The, uh.” He clears his throat. “The therapeutic devices. For managing...” He trails off. The pen taps faster. “You know what, never mind the products.”

Finn is biting the inside of his cheek so hard I can see the dimple, trying not to laugh and failing.

“I doubt the toys will be enough for her,” I say.

The words leave my mouth before I can stop them, and the room goes very quiet. Finn’s smile fades. Ethan’s hands go still on the pen. Max’s gaze shifts to me and holds.

I look away first and slip the device into my bag.

“In any case,” I say, and my voice is steady, which is a miracle, “Phoebe has been cleared. The debt is personal and has no connection to the leak.” I pull up the next file on my screen, forcing my eyes to focus on something that isn’t Max Cavill’s face. “I’ll move to the research wing tomorrow. We’ll need to find a way for me to work closely with Diana Quinn. I’ll also need access to all her work emails and project files. The more I have, the quicker we can find out if she’s involved.”

“I’ll make sure you have access to everything you need,” Ethan says, clearly grateful for the subject change. “I’ll have you shadow her on the projects she’s managing. I’ll set it up so it looks like a natural part of the department onboarding.”

“Good.” I close the laptop and gather my things. Ethan is right behind me, walking me to the door.

I can feel Max’s eyes on me the way you feel sunlight through a window—a physical warmth on the side of my face, steady and unwavering.