Chapter 527:

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“I don’t care what it costs,” Eulalie Kensington’s voice screeched, sharp enough to cut glass. “I told you the engagement was off, yet you’re still linked to this trailer park grifter in every tabloid! The Kensington name will not be dragged through the mud a second longer by that cheap, gold-digging fraud. Get her out of your life, or you are no longer a Kensington.”

“Yes, Mother,” Finn mumbled.

He hung up, face burning with shame. He thought of the Las Vegas marriage records Lauren had uncovered. Every word of the reports was true. He looked at the half-empty bottle of wine Cheyanne had left on his counter and felt a surge of disgust. It was over. He had to end it.

He was reaching for his phone when his doorbell chimed.

He opened the door.

Cheyanne stood on his doorstep, drenched by the sudden downpour. Mascara ran in black rivers down her cheeks, her expensive dress clinging to her shivering frame. She looked small, broken, utterly pathetic.

She didn’t speak. She just looked up at him, eyes wide, red-rimmed, swimming with unshed tears.

All the harsh, final words Finn had rehearsed died in his throat.

The IT Director, Henderson, practically sprinted to the Compliance Department. He arrived breathless and sweating, personally oversaw the restoration of Allison’s access privileges, and stammered apologies about a “system-wide glitch.” Director Hoffman remained barricaded in his office, the door firmly shut.

𝖭𝖾𝘄 с𝗵аp𝘵𝖾𝘳s ev𝗲𝗿y 𝘄𝗲𝗲𝘬 о𝗇 g𝗮𝗅ո𝘰𝘃𝘦𝗅𝘀.𝖼𝘰𝗆

Allison walked into her new office, sterile, impersonal, but a fortress. She closed the door and leaned against the cool wood, letting out a long, shuddering breath. The confrontation had drained her, but a cold fire of purpose burned in its place.

Her secure phone buzzed. ADAM KENSINGTON.

She composed herself, smoothing her voice into casual competence before answering. “It’s handled. A bunch of paper tigers.”

At the Long Island safe house, Adam heard the forced lightness in her tone and his heart clenched. He knew what that bravado cost her. He didn’t challenge it.

“I never had a doubt,” he said, his voice a low, warm rumble. “You should get some work done. Big day tomorrow, my lead assessor.”

Allison frowned, sinking into her desk chair. “What lead assessor?”

A soft chuckle. “You’ll see in the morning papers. Now, I need you to do something for me.”

“What is it?”

“When you’re done for the day, go straight back to your Tribeca apartment. Marcus will meet you there. Don’t go anywhere else. Promise me.” His tone was soft but held the unyielding weight of a command.

She didn’t understand, but she heard the underlying concern. “I promise.”

After they hung up, a strange warmth spread through her chest. She was not alone in this fight. She turned to her computer and dove into the labyrinth of Montgomery Group’s digital archives.

Hours later, as dusk settled, she honored her promise. The nondescript sedan took her back to her Tribeca apartment. As she stepped out of the elevator, she found Marcus and another team member completing a final security sweep.

“All clear, Ms. Montgomery,” Marcus said.

She thanked him, the sheer professionalism of Adam’s paranoia a constant, unnerving comfort. She had just stepped inside and slipped off her heels when the doorbell chimed.

Marcus glanced at the security feed. “It’s Mr. Baker Montgomery.”

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