Page 80 of Dark Billionaire Stalker
Chapter 20 - Gabriel
Hutton's report arrives at seven in the morning, interrupting what should have been a rare peaceful moment.
Poppy is still asleep beside me, her body warm and soft, her breathing slow and even. I've been watching her for the past hour, tracing the lines of her face in the gray morning light, cataloging the marks I left on her skin last night. She's beautiful like this—unguarded, vulnerable,mine.
Then my phone buzzes, and the world intrudes.
I slip out of bed without waking her, pulling on a robe and padding into the hallway to take the call.
"Sir." Hutton's voice is clipped, professional, but I can hear the tension beneath. "There's something you need to know."
"Go ahead."
"Someone's been asking questions. About the florist."
The words hit me like ice water. I stop walking, my hand tightening on the phone.
"What kind of questions?"
"Background inquiries. Her history, her family, her connection to you. Discreet, but persistent. Our contact at the records office flagged it this morning—someone pulled her mother's name change documents. The original ones, from twenty-five years ago."
Linda Rivers, née Marsh. The woman who's been running from something her entire adult life.
"Who?" The word comes out flat, dangerous.
"We're still working on that. The inquiries were made through a series of intermediaries—shell companies, private investigators, the usual layers of obfuscation. Whoever it is, they know how to cover their tracks."
"But you have a lead."
A pause. "We have a suspicion."
"Tell me."
"The pattern of the inquiries—the specific questions being asked, the documents being pulled—it matches someone we've encountered before. Someone with Brotherhood connections."
My blood runs cold. "Who?"
"Zachary Mercer."
The name lands like a blow to the chest.
Zach. Of course, it's Zach.
I haven't thought about Zachary Mercer in years. Haven't needed to. He was exiled from the Brotherhood three years ago, cast out after his son Daniel was sacrificed to protect the organization. Daniel had killed a woman—carelessly, stupidly, in a way that drew attention—and when the investigation started closing in, the Brotherhood told me to make a choice. I did. Daniel went to prison for twenty years. Zach was stripped of his position, his connections, his access to everything the Brotherhood provides.
He went quietly at the time. Too quietly, in retrospect. A man like Zach—ambitious, ruthless, connected—doesn't simply accept banishment. He bides his time. He plans. He waits for an opportunity to strike back.
And now he's asking questions about my woman.
"How certain are you?" I ask.
"Eighty percent. The methodology matches his known associates. And there's something else."
"What?"
"Three days ago, someone accessed Poppy Rivers' client records from before she started working for you. Contact information, addresses, personal notes. The kind of information you'd need if you wanted to approach her. Build trust."
My grip on the phone is so tight I'm surprised it doesn't crack.
