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The confession tumbled out in broken fragments—gambling debts that spiraled into hundreds of thousands, threats from loan sharks, increasingly desperate attempts to dig himself out that only buried him deeper.

"They were going to kill me, Easton," he said, his voice cracking. "These aren't people who give extensions. They sent me photographs of my sister's kids at school. Said next time it wouldn't just be pictures."

Ice spread through my veins. "So you stole from me. From the company we built together."

"I was desperate! I thought I could win it back, make it right before you ever noticed." His eyes pleaded for understanding I couldn't give. "Then Ricci approached me. Said he knew about my... situation. Offered to clear my debts in exchange for information about the Jade Petal."

Harlow leaned forward. "What kind of information, Mr. Delacroix?"

"Financial projections at first. Investor lists. Nothing that wasn't public record anyway." He swallowed hard. "Then he wanted more. Security protocols. Access codes. Details about the gaming systems."

"And the sabotaged machines?" I asked, barely maintaining control. "The rigged programming that could have sent me to prison for fraud?"

Shame twisted his features. "That was his idea. Said if the commission found compliance violations, they'd shut you down before opening. The inspection delays would spook investors, and he'd be able to buy the property for pennies on the dollar when it went under."

"All while you continued to embezzle funds," Harlow added, her tone matter-of-fact.

"I had to create accounting discrepancies," he admitted. "Make it look like operational losses instead of theft. I thought—" He broke off, a bitter laugh escaping. "I thought I was being clever."

"Not clever enough," I said coldly.

Bryce leaned forward, desperation edging his voice. "Easton, please. We can fix this. We've fixed everything else together for fifteen years. I'll make it right, I swear."

The plea hit like a physical blow—the echo of a friendship I'd thought unbreakable now shattered beyond repair.

For a moment, I saw the roommate who'd stayed up all night helping me debug code, the friend who'd believed in my vision when everyone else called it fantasy, the brother who'd stood beside me through every triumph and disaster.

But that man was gone, replaced by a stranger who had betrayed everything we'd built.

"Not this time," I said quietly.

With three words, fifteen years ended. I pressed the intercom, summoning security. Two officers arrived within moments, their faces professionally blank as I instructed them to escort Bryce from the building.

"Easton, please," he begged as they approached. "Don't do this."

I turned away, unable to watch as they led him out. The door closed with a soft click that seemed to echo through the sudden silence of my office.

***

For several minutes after Bryce's departure, I stood motionless before the windows, staring out at the Strip without really seeing it. The city stretched below me—all glittering promise and ambitious dreams—while inside I felt hollow, gutted by a betrayal I should have seen coming.

Behind me, Harlow remained silent, allowing me space to process. I could feel her presence, solid and steady, not intruding but simply there. When I finally turned, I found her watching me with quiet understanding.

"I keep thinking I should have known," I admitted, the words torn from someplace raw. "The signs were there. The unexplained absences. The growing secrecy. The way he'd deflect whenever I asked about certain expenses."

"People who betray us are experts at hiding in plain sight," she said softly. "Especially those closest to us. They know exactly what we want to believe, what we need to hear."

"You spotted it." I ran a hand through my hair, frustration mounting. "You identified the financial patterns within days. I had years and saw nothing."

"Because I was looking with objective eyes." She approached, close enough that I could feel her warmth but not touching. "You trusted him because that's what friendship is. Trust isn't a weakness, Easton."

"Feels like one right now."

Her hand found mine, a simple point of contact that anchored me. "I know."

Two simple words, but something in how she said them broke through the careful control I'd maintained throughout the confrontation. My shoulders sagged as the magnitude of the betrayal finally hit full force. The man who knew all my secrets, my fears, my ambitions. Gone.

Harlow stepped closer, wrapping her arms around me as the first shuddering breath escaped.

I buried my face in her hair, allowing myself a vulnerability I'd never have shown anyone else.

She held me without words, without judgment, simply offering the strength of her presence as everything I thought I knew crumbled around me.

"I'm sorry," I said eventually, pulling back slightly.

"Don't." Her hands framed my face, her gaze direct and unwavering. "Don't apologize for being human."

I covered her hand with mine, turning to press a kiss to her palm. "How did you go from my biggest professional threat to my strongest support in less than a week?"

A hint of a smile touched her lips. "Vegas moves fast."

The unexpected humor broke the tension, drawing a reluctant laugh from me. Before I could respond, my phone rang—Carmen Torres, head of security.

"Sir," she said when I answered, her voice tense, "we have a situation in the lobby. Press has gotten wind of Mr. Delacroix's departure. They're gathering outside, and Enzo Ricci is giving what appears to be an impromptu statement."

I put the call on speaker so Harlow could hear. "What's he saying?"

"That there are 'serious financial irregularities' at the Jade Petal. That Mr. Delacroix's termination is 'merely the tip of the iceberg.' He's suggesting the commission should suspend our license pending a full investigation."

Rage surged through me—cold and clarifying. "Of course he is. He orchestrated this entire situation; now he's trying to control the narrative."

"What do you want us to do?" Torres asked.

I met Harlow's eyes, finding the same determined focus I felt crystallizing within me. "Hold them in the lobby. No access to upper floors. I'll be down in thirty minutes for a formal statement."

After ending the call, I turned to Harlow. "He's trying to turn Bryce's betrayal into ammunition."

"Then we control the story," she replied without hesitation. "Complete transparency. Acknowledge the embezzlement and sabotage, emphasize that your proactive oversight caught it, and frame it as proof of your commitment to regulatory compliance."

"You're suggesting I publicly admit my CFO was stealing from me and tampering with gaming equipment?" I raised an eyebrow. "Most PR firms would recommend burying that as deep as possible."

"Most PR firms don't understand that in regulated industries, how you handle problems matters more than whether you have them.

" She moved to the desk, already pulling up documents on her tablet.

"Every casino faces internal threats. What sets you apart is catching it before customers were affected. "

I watched her work, marveling at how seamlessly we'd shifted into a partnership that felt both professional and deeply personal. "You're not worried about how this affects your position with the commission?"

She looked up, determination flashing in her eyes. "The commissioners are divided. Montgomery will see this as vindication of our collaborative approach. Watts will try to use it against us. Diaz will follow the political winds." She shrugged. "But hiding the truth only gives Enzo more ammunition."

"So we face it head-on. Together."

"Together," she agreed, something warming in her expression. "I'm starting to think that's how we're meant to be."

The simple statement hit me with unexpected force.

This woman who had once represented everything I resented about regulatory oversight now stood beside me as an equal partner—in crisis, in strategy, in something that felt increasingly like a future I hadn't planned but suddenly couldn't imagine without.

I crossed to her, drawing her into my arms for a brief, fierce kiss. "Whatever happens next, we face it together."

Her smile against my lips was answer enough.

***

The Jade Petal's grand ballroom had been hastily converted for the press conference.

Reporters from every major outlet filled the seats, cameras trained on the podium where I stood with practiced composure.

Harlow had positioned herself to the side of the stage—present but not central, a visual statement of professional collaboration rather than personal entanglement.

"Thank you all for coming on such short notice," I began, my voice steady despite the turmoil of the past twenty-four hours.

"This morning, Jade Petal Casino terminated the employment of Bryson Delacroix, our Chief Financial Officer, following the discovery of financial improprieties and attempted sabotage of gaming equipment. "

A ripple of excitement passed through the assembled press. I continued before they could interrupt with questions.

"Through our rigorous internal controls and in collaboration with the Nevada Gaming Commission's oversight team, we identified unauthorized financial transactions and attempts to compromise gaming systems before any customers were affected.

" I nodded subtly toward Harlow, acknowledging her role without drawing undue attention.

"Mr. Delacroix has provided a full confession, which has been turned over to the appropriate authorities. "

Questions erupted immediately. I pointed to Liv Chen from the Las Vegas Tribune.

"Mr. Hardwick, what is your response to Enzo Ricci's statement suggesting this is evidence of systemic problems at the Jade Petal?"

"I would suggest Mr. Ricci focus on his own operations rather than attempting to capitalize on a situation his establishment helped create.

" I allowed a hint of steel to enter my voice.

"Our investigation has revealed that Mr. Delacroix's actions were connected to gambling debts accrued primarily at the Mirage Continental, and that Mr. Ricci personally offered to clear those debts in exchange for corporate sabotage. "

The room erupted again. I fielded questions with measured responses, emphasizing transparency, commitment to regulatory compliance, and the effectiveness of our security protocols in catching the problem before opening.

Throughout the exchange, I maintained a careful professional distance from Harlow, though I was acutely aware of her presence—the slight nod of approval when I handled a particularly tricky question, the almost imperceptible shift when a reporter ventured too close to our personal connection.

When the inevitable question finally came—"Is there any truth to rumors of a personal relationship between you and Investigator Clarke?"—I was prepared.

"Investigator Clarke represents the Nevada Gaming Commission in a professional capacity.

Her expertise and thoroughness are exactly what helped identify these issues before they could impact our operations or customers.

Our working relationship exemplifies the kind of collaborative oversight that benefits both the industry and the public. "

Not a lie, but not the complete truth. From the corner of my eye, I caught the hint of a smile on Harlow's face.

After forty-five minutes, I concluded the press conference, thanking the reporters and promising updates as the situation developed. As the crowd dispersed, Harlow approached, her professional mask firmly in place despite the warmth in her eyes.

"Well handled," she said quietly as we stepped into the private elevator.

"I had excellent preparation." The doors closed, sealing us away from prying eyes, and I felt tension drain from my shoulders. "Think it worked?"

"You controlled the narrative, showed appropriate concern without panic, and positioned the Jade Petal as responsible and transparent." Her analytical assessment was pure Investigator Clarke, but the smile that followed was all Harlow. "Yes, I think it worked."

As the elevator climbed toward the penthouse, I studied her face—the woman who had transformed from professional adversary to accidental wife to essential partner in less than a week. Something shifted in my chest, a certainty I hadn't expected to find amid such chaos.

"I'm falling in love with you, Harlow."

The words emerged without planning, simple truth amid the complicated web we'd found ourselves in. Her eyes widened, lips parting in surprise just as the elevator doors slid open to reveal the penthouse foyer.

The moment hung suspended between us—my confession, her unspoken response, and the world waiting beyond the elevator's temporary sanctuary.