Page 143 of Discretion at Its Finest

Her throat bobbed. I turned her slowly in my arms, cupping her face, thumbs brushing the tears she’d already tried wiping away. “You want to know why this hurts?” I asked quietly.

A faltering breath escaped her lips. “Why?”

“Because you never stopped wanting a mother who would stay, or a father who wouldn’t abandon you,” I said. “You never stopped hoping, even when you convinced yourself you had.”

Her face crumbled, the truth hitting harder than her grief. “Even if Eugene was right,” I added, brushing my thumb across her cheekbone, “you’re not him. You never shut off the part of you that loves people. You never built walls high enough to keep everyone out. You feel everything, sweetheart. That’s why you let Genevieve back in… and why you’re afraid of letting Reid in. That wound is afraid of being hurt again.”

Her lips parted, trembling. “I don’t know what to do.”

“You’re allowed to take your time with this,” I murmured. “With all of it.”

Her eyes lifted to mine, exhausted, before she collapsed into my chest, my arms wrapping around her, letting the weight ofher mind fall onto me. And I caught her without hesitation, my arms tight around her frame, shielding her from the cold and a world that seemed intent on tearing apart her fragile heart.

Eventually, she nodded against me, a small, fragile signal that she was feeling better. I pressed a kiss to her temple before guiding her back inside.

The warmth hit us first, the gentle cautious voices second.

I lingered close by as she slipped into the kitchen without a word, moving automatically to help Benjamin and Reginald with the dinner prep. Her hands were still shaking, but she forced herself into the rhythm of chopping vegetables, stirring pans, pretending the world wasn’t falling apart at her feet.

Genevieve followed her after a moment. She hesitated, asking if she could help. Brielle didn’t speak. She just nodded.

It wasn’t forgiveness. But it wasn’t rejection either.

I stepped back, giving them space, my gaze drifting toward the far window.

And that’s when I saw him.

Reid Kaufman stood outside in the courtyard, phone pressed to his ear, pacing the stone path with enough control and power to test my own without him even being near.

His expression was carved from steel. His jaw tight, shoulders coiled, every step precise, walking the line between restraint and violence.

We had settled the emotional fallout for now… but I was still trying to piece together the bigger picture.

Because something didn’t add up. I had bought out governments. Toppled corporations. Turned billion-dollar empires into ash with a signature. There shouldn’t be anything I couldn’t access.

And yet—

When I dug into Brielle’s past, when I tore apart every Newman trace, every forged document and article Cheryl andGregory created to hide Genevieve… there was nothing that linked her to Kaufman. I never even came across his name.

Which meant someone had hidden him from me. Someone with more power… or someone whothoughtthey held more power…

And there was only one man who fit that description.

Only one man capable of burying the existence of someone like Reid Kaufman.

…My father.

Chapter fifty-four

Brielle

Steam fogged the kitchen windows, blurring the snow outside. My hands moved on autopilot. Chopping, stirring, wiping, anything to keep them from shaking again.

Benjamin pretended not to notice. Reginald kept humming some Christmas carol under his breath, soothing but useless. Everything inside me still felt like it was breaking open once again, that same feeling of loss and abandonment forcing its way back into my mind.

Gentle footsteps entered the kitchen. I didn’t have to turn to know who it was.

“Can I… help?” my mother’s voice came, soft and gentle.