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“The complaint was filed with the district attorney yesterday,” Kieran says. “Ronan is already digging into the women and the law firm. Our attorneys are on their way to the office now, and if the DA decides to move quickly, expect to hear from them today.”

I keep watching the television while the station begins recapping Murphy Enterprises’ history. “I’ll be at the office in less than an hour.”

I end the call just as Nash comes downstairs, still half asleep and wearing nothing but his boxers. “What’s going on?”

“Several former employees are accusing me of sexual harassment and assault.” I nod toward the television. “Their attorney decided to announce it to Philadelphia before I knew the complaint existed.”

That wakes him completely. Nash comes closer and watches long enough to catch my name and the allegations scrolling across the bottom of the screen. “You think this is connected to Daniela?”

“The timing would be a hell of a coincidence if it isn’t, but we don’t know yet.”

Nash wraps his arms around my waist, and I pull him against me. After the way he reacted to the age difference upstairs, I shouldn’t be surprised that he doesn’t hesitate now either, but I’m still aware of what he’s doing. He heard the accusation and came directly to me instead of backing away.

“We’ll figure it out,” he says against my chest. “Any word on who the woman pretending to be Daniela actually is?”

“Not yet. Finn and Liam went to Chicago to speak with the Whitmores. If Nathan knows who she really is or how she got Daniela Norris’s identity, they’ll find out.”

Chapter 28 Nash

Walking into my apartment feels different after knowing someone has already been inside without my permission. Duncan’s security team cleared it before letting me come up, and nothing in the living room appears disturbed, but I still find myself noticing things I never paid attention to before. The position of a chair. A cabinet door that might be open a little farther than I left it. Whether something on the counter has moved. I hated knowing someone had been here when I found the first photographs. Coming back after spending the night away hasn’t made that feeling any better.

My thoughts keep wandering back to Duncan instead. Last night was the first time Duncan fucked me, and part of me expected this morning to be awkward. I thought there might be hesitation once the heat of the moment was gone, maybe questions or some sign that he was trying to reconcile what we’d done with the life he’d lived before me. Instead, he woke up, kissed me, and held me as if none of it required reconsideration. Then his family called, his entire life went to shit before breakfast, and he still made sure security bring me here for clothes rather than letting me come alone.

Thinking about his hands on me is enough to start getting me hard again, which would be considerably more appealing if I weren’t still wearing the same jeans I’ve had on for two fucking days. I need a shower, clean clothes and enough packed to stay at Duncan’s until we figure out who keeps coming after us, so I head toward my bedroom while his security team waits downstairs. I stop in the doorway.

“What the fuck?”

There are photographs everywhere again, but these aren’t the ones that covered my apartment the first time.

My hand goes straight to the hollowed-out book on the dresser. The gun is exactly where I left it, and I pull it free before checking the bathroom, closet, and every other room in the apartment. Security already searched the place, but seeing another message waiting for me makes it impossible to trust someone else’s sweep. I check it myself before returning to the bedroom with the gun still in my hand. I really look at what they left.

These aren’t surveillance photographs of Duncan and me. I pick up one showing a much younger Duncan standing beside a little boy I recognize as Declan, then another with a dark-haired woman holding a baby. Wedding pictures and family portraits cover the dresser, bed, and nightstand, all of them from a part of Duncan’s life he hasn’t talked about beyond telling me he was married and that Declan’s mother has been gone since he was five.

One of the wedding photographs holds my attention longer than the others. Whoever took it captured the picture people expect from a wedding—a beautiful bride, a handsome groom, everything arranged to look perfect. Duncan is younger, but there’s no mistaking him. What’s missing is the way he looks at me. I go through several more photographs and find the same thing. He’s standing beside his wife and son in every one of them, but I can’t find a single picture where he looks genuinely happy.

A larger family portrait has been placed in the center of the bed. Duncan stands beside the same woman with Declan between them, and when I turn it over, there’s a message written across the back.

He killed the mother of his son. Do you really think you’re safe?

A phone number is written beneath it.

Whoever left this expects me to look at Duncan differently after reading those words. The problem is, I already know enough about him that accusing him of killing someone isn’t going to send me running for the fucking door. He told me last night exactly what he and his family do to people they believe deserve it. What I don’t know is what happened to Declan’s mother or why someone thinks her disappearance is the thing that will make me afraid of him.

I could call Duncan and ask. After everything he’s told me, I have no reason to think he’d lie, but whoever keeps breaking into my apartment is trying very hard to control what I learn and when I learn it. Before I give them whatever reaction they’re hoping for, I want to understand why they chose Maria.

Zee answers on the third ring, sounding like I dragged him out of a coma. “It’s too early to be calling me.”

“I’ll pay double.”

That wakes him up considerably. “Well, good morning to you too. What do you need?”

I put him on speaker and set the phone on the dresser while I drag my suitcase from the closet. “Duncan Murphy. I need to know what happened to his wife.”

Keys begin clicking on Zee’s end while I drag clothes from the closet and start filling my suitcase. After a few minutes, he makes a thoughtful sound. “She basically disappeared about twenty-two years ago. Duncan filed for divorce citing abandonment, and it was granted after the statutory waiting period expired.”

I stop with a shirt in my hands. “That tells me what Duncan did afterward. It doesn’t tell me what happened to her.”

“No, it doesn’t. Give me a little more time. If there’s anything to find, I’ll find it.”