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“Are you sure? In one of my last conversations with Barclay, he said Lund would never have made multiple attempts to buy a company from such a resistant seller without some inside help. You know, like an ace in the hole.”

I don’t mention that the bastard tried to use Becca against me first—and would have succeeded if fate hadn’t intervened. On the other hand, Bethany may be right. And Lund continued with the lucrative offers well after Becca’s death.

Does that asshole really have someone helping him from the inside?

“What are you suggesting?”

“I would congratulate you on your recent marriage…except I think you may have married the enemy. You know, it’s funny. Given our childhoods, we had a million reasons never to trust people. But look at us being optimistic, wanting to believe and giving others our faith. You’d think we would have learned better.”

“Listen to me,” I snap. “Nia barely knows Lund. She wouldn’t help him stab me in the back.”

“You keep thinking that. I did, despite the number of people who told me Barclay is a thief, a liar, and a son of a bitch. I loved him. I never thought he would betray me like that…” She lets loose a bitter laugh. “Look in front of you, Evan. You have a new wife whose father intends to take your company from you. Has she encouraged you to sell?”

Not at first. And not that it matters. Nia wants what’s best for me. She’s been by my side for years. She loves me. I’m not letting Bethany’s subversive questions crawl in my head. “Thanks for the information. I have my marriage under control.”

“You think you can’t be betrayed by the people who should be in your corner?”

No, I know I can. Becca proved that. But Bethany is simply drowning in her own bitterness now. She doesn’t know Nia like I do.

“Is there anything else you need to tell me?” I really hope not. I’ve had enough bombshells for one day.

“That’s it.” She backs down. “I hope for your sake everything with Nia is all you hope and want it to be. Disillusionment is a bitch.”

With that, three beeps sound in my ear, telling me she ended the call.

Sighing, I pocket the phone. Her suggestions about Nia’s loyalty piss me off, but she’s in a bad place. Maybe, after time passes, I’ll reach out to her again. Maybe she’ll want to meet the rest of our siblings and she’ll see that we’ve all suffered at Barclay’s hands but still managed to come out happy. I think she’ll need some hope.

Right now, I need to see my wife. I have to decide if I should tell her. No, when. She deserves the truth about her biological father. I can’t keep that information from her. I don’t know how she’ll take it. I don’t know how much it will matter to her. But that’s for her to decide. All I can do is hold her and be supportive.

Dragging in a steadying breath, I shove the door to the cafe open and glance around. The place is largely empty. There’s a busboy cleaning up the last of the lunch rush. I see a hostess wiping down menus. A waiter hustles across the room with a carafe of coffee to an elderly couple a few feet away, holding hands. My day is shit, but their affection still makes me smile.

Until I catch sight of Nia in the far corner. And I realize she’s not alone.

Nia stands with Stephen Lund, that male-model wannabe, next to a table piled with discarded dishes and half-empty iced tea glasses. Apparently, they just finished a cozy lunch.

Motherfucking son of a bitch. What is he doing in town? What is he doing with Nia?

Then he reaches for her. My wife is letting the jackass hug her? Yes. She’s standing on her tiptoes, arms around him, totally returning the gesture. Like he’s a friend. No, like he’s her brother—and she knows it. Lund junior gives her a brotherly pat between the shoulder blades and murmurs something in her ear.

What the hell is going on?

Dread weighs heavily inside me. Suspicion races through my veins.

I sidle closer and hide behind a column in the middle of the room. This feels wrong. Vaguely, I’m aware that if I trust Nia, I should simply approach her and ask for an explanation. On the other hand, nothing about this meeting looks good—or right. Since when is she friendly with Stephen Lund? Last time they met, she seemed almost eager to get away from him.

At least that’s what she wanted me to think.

I shove down my distrust. I don’t know for certain what they’re talking about. Maybe it has nothing to do with me or Stratus. Maybe today’s bombshells and Bethany’s voice in my head are messing with me. Maybe Nia isn’t plotting to stab me in the back at all.

“We can make this work,” Lund says.

“I hope you’re right.” She sounds nervous but upbeat.

He gives her hand a reassuring squeeze. “I am. I’ve given this a lot of thought. It’s for the best. For everyone.”

“I’m not sure Evan will see it that way.”

“But this is for you, for your future. Don’t forget that.”