Page 52 of More than Fiction (Misty Springs #1)

Corbin

It had been four days since I last saw Sophia.

Four days of no contact.

Four days of sticking to what we agreed to.

Totally over.

I flew back to New York the morning after nearly bashing Landon’s face in.

I felt like an ass for leaving Sophia after what he put her through.

But I had to remind myself that I wasn’t her boyfriend or even her friend, for that matter.

I was grateful she had Brent, Sam, and Trevor looking out for her—I’m not sure I could keep my distance if that weren’t the case.

Sophia left me feeling raw and emotional—so unlike myself. The lack of restraint when dealing with Landon proved that.

I buried myself in work and tried my best to think of anything besides the countdown to her start date. Andi informed me that Sophia had submitted her paperwork, and the process had begun to get her into the system.

The Monday following Thanksgiving, she’d be a Buescher-Jones Publishing employee.

That was ten days away.

My fingers drummed on the polished desk at Buescher Enterprises’ Manhattan office. Things were quieting down quickly—like a silent alarm sounded right at five p.m., signaling everyone to exit immediately.

I didn’t welcome the silence like I usually did. The noise and chaos were a welcome distraction from the girl who was hundreds of miles away—yet somehow everywhere .

I saw her face in unsuspecting coworkers, only for it to vanish when I blinked.

Her scent still clung to the fabrics in my apartment.

Her phantom moans still echoed in my ears when I lay my head down at night.

I was pathetic.

I picked up my phone for the hundredth time, fingers lingering on the contact, reading her name. The numbers we exchanged on the plane ride back to Misty Springs. The plane ride where we naively believed we were leaving us behind in New York.

I slammed my phone face down on my desk—a little harder than necessary and went back to work. I forced the complicated thoughts away of an unattainable girl with something attainable—CEO.

As if my mind wasn’t preoccupied enough, Sullivan strolled in and plopped down in my office chair with an exasperated sigh.

I didn’t look up, deep in schedules, pushing to finish this latest project.

He sighed once more, louder and more exaggerated than before.

“Can I help you?” I asked, finally looking up at his exasperated face.

“No,” he said, lounging in my chair like he owned the place, one leg crossed casually over the other. He inspected his fingernails with the lazy indifference of a man with nothing better to do.

His tailored umber suit looked like it had been stitched directly onto him, and his sandy blonde hair was slicked back with precision. A manila envelope rested on his thigh, tucked under his hand.

He dropped his leg and leaned forward. “But I can help you.” He flung the envelope on my desk with a thud.

“What’s this?” I picked it up, prying open the metal closure.

“My Christmas list,” he deadpanned. “What do you think it is? You asked me to use my sources to dig up what I could on that creepy little family and Misty Springs.”

“And?” I asked.

“Just look in the damn folder, gosh.” He crossed one arm across his torso, resting his opposite elbow on his hand. “You make the worst spy.”

I did as he said, and the thrill of victory thrummed through my veins .

Photographs, transcripts, bank records. Even records of untraceable wire transfers between the Norwood family and a company I knew in my bones was a money laundering front—just a few phone calls to the right people would confirm that for me.

I wasn’t sure how Sullivan got it, but there was a shady affidavit signed by a sheriff’s deputy with the Norwood last name—like that wasn’t a strange coincidence.

The documents were a web of deceit, everything I needed to bring them down. This wasn’t just about bad business practices. This was bribery, money laundering, fraud—all tied to the Norwood family.

This was exactly what I needed to finally put an end to the splinter under my finger that was Landon Norwood. If this hit the press, it wouldn’t just be their empire that fell—it would be their entire legacy. Jail time, lawsuits, criminal charges—they’d lose it all.

This was better than punching Landon’s prickish face in. This hit the entire scummy family—harder than my fists could.

And the best part?

They’d never see it coming.

“This is perfect,” I said to Sullivan with a grin. “I could kiss you!”

“Can we cuddle after?” he asked, jutting out his lower lip.

***

“Quiet, Landon!” Alicia snapped, her shrill voice slicing through the stifling tension in the back office of Norwood Realty.

“Yes, Landon. Quiet,” I said, leaning back in the desk chair with a smirk. “The adults are speaking.”

His jaw tightened, his face twisting into a sulk.

I was getting under his skin. Perfect.

“Here’s how this is going to work,” I said, my tone cool but firm.

“You’re going to leave Misty Springs. Quietly.

No grand exits or desperate attempts to save face.

You’ll sell every single property you acquired illegally—at fair market value.

And for the people you’ve already screwed over?

You’ll dissolve their contracts and let them buy back their properties under fair and legal terms.”

The room was deathly silent.

Landon glared daggers at me, his lips twitching like he wanted to argue but didn’t dare .

Alicia sat frozen, her expression unreadable beneath layers of Botox.

Perry, on the other hand, looked... relieved . His shoulders slumped, and there was something almost resigned in his eyes, as though he’d been waiting for someone to end this charade for years.

I leaned forward, steepling my fingers as if this were a boardroom negotiation instead of an ultimatum.

“And if you think that government contract is going to pan out, you’re sadly mistaken.” I paused for dramatic effect, though it was difficult. This next bit was the smoking gun, the reason that drew this sniveling family to Misty Springs in the first place.

“It turns out, we have some similar acquaintances, and when it came to the choice between building in Misty Springs or Wapakoneta—they chose Ohio. Fun fact: it's the birthplace of Neil Armstrong. Who knew?”

Their illegally acquired properties were useless without the government contract—they had nothing tethering them here now.

This was the only way out. If I had taken this evidence to the authorities, their properties would be tied up in legal battles for years. Misty Springs would suffer foreclosures and plummeting values. Maybe Buescher Enterprises could step in eventually, but that’s a long road—messy and painful.

Perry sighed heavily, rubbing a hand over his face. “We’ll do it,” he said at last, his voice hoarse with fatigue.

“Smart choice.” I straightened in my chair, dropping my voice, sharp as a blade. “But trust—if you try anything like this again, I’ll find out. I’ll come for you, and I’ll finish what I started. I. Own. You.”

Alicia’s jaw tightened, and through gritted teeth, she hissed, “Fine.”

I rose, buttoning my navy suit jacket and smoothing the sleeves. Sullivan had joked about me playing the spy, but right now? I felt like James Bond—if Bond were dismantling shitty wannabe empires instead of saving the world.

My polished leather shoes clicked as I turned toward the door. At the threshold, I paused, glancing back at the defeated trio.

“Oh, and Landon,” I added, rapping my knuckles on the doorframe, my voice low and menacing. “If you ever go near Sophia again, I’ll end you. ”

His face blanched, and I didn’t wait for a response.

I stepped out, leaving the Norwood family stewing in their downfall.

***

“Tell me again what you said to them. What was it?” Sullivan’s animated voice crackled through the speakers of my rental car. “I. Own. You,” he mimicked, lowering his voice down a few octaves.

I laughed as I relished the victory, glad the Norwoods took option number one of tucking and running.

Sullivan and I had spent the weekend conspiring backup plans amongst backup plans—it was a relief having someone like him in my corner.

Actually, now that I thought about it, this might’ve been the first time I ever reached out and asked Sullivan for help.

And he came through. No hesitation. No questions.

Just showed up—and delivered in spades.

“Just like that,” I told him. “Their faces were priceless. I think Alicia may have cried if her tear ducts weren’t clogged with all the plastic she’s injected into her face.”

The jet needed minor maintenance, so I decided to stay in Misty Springs for the night. I turned down Main Street—the primary vein of downtown—where both my hotel and Boomer’s were located, all while answering Sullivan’s many inquiries.

Did they see it coming?

Did they like the pictures?

Did Landon cry?

I slowed past the drive leading to Elijah’s and looked up at the building looming high on the hill. The luminescent glow of the streetlights cast shadows from the tall trees nearby.

“You make a pretty good spy, after all, Corby. I’m proud of you,” Sullivan said.

“Thanks, I couldn’t have done it without you.” And I truly meant it.

With that, I ended the call.

I could turn now, pull into the hotel, check in, and call it a night.

Or… I could keep going and see if a certain bartender was working at Boomer’s tonight.

Sophia and I hadn’t talked in over a week. It gnawed at me for some stupid reason and left me feeling empty .

We knew this was ending. Hell, we hadn’t even started. But something felt unfinished .

Fuck it.

I pushed my foot on the gas. I didn’t know what I was going to do there, what I was going to say. All I knew is I felt too damn keyed up to head to Elijah’s right now.

The parking lot seemed full for a Wednesday night. Then I remembered that today was the day before Thanksgiving—the biggest bar night of the year.

Hesitantly, I walked inside and was greeted with a roaring crowd. People were standing nearly three rows deep in front of the bar, and every table in the place occupied.

Maybe this was a bad idea. I almost turned to leave when I heard someone call my name.

I looked around the room before spotting Sam waving me over. His towering height made him easy to spot amongst the crowd.

He was standing around a bar-height table, surrounded by a few empty barstools with coats and purses. Trevor and Brent were there, too.

I shook their hands in greeting.

Several empty glasses and beers were scattered on the wooden tabletop, indicating they had been there a while.

Sam wordlessly handed me an icy beer from the bucket. I accepted and thanked him.

There was a timid silence, the guys each taking sips of their drinks and eyeing the ceiling, avoiding eye contact with me.

I took a swig of the cold liquid, watching their eyes shift to me as I did. I threw my head back and drank deeper, my nerves kicking in.

Just then, two ladies showed up, and I recognized them instantly—Cassie and the dark-haired coffee shop owner, Lana.

A curly-haired waitress bumped into me as she stood at our table—Devyn, I assumed, based on Sophia’s description of her. “You guys have two seconds. What do you need?” she demanded more than asked.

“Bucket,” Sam ordered.

“White wine, please,” Lana answered with a smile.

“Another one of these,” Cassie wiggled her empty glass. “And get one for Corbin, too. ”

I gave her a suspicious glare.

She shrugged. “What? You’ll like it. Trust me.”

Not that I had time to argue. Devyn had already spun away and left.

Sam handed the last few beers in the bucket to Brent and Trevor. The girls settled onto the barstools, pushing aside empty bottles and cups.

I didn’t know what to do, what to say. The bar was loud, music played in the background, but I could barely hear the song through the chorus of voices all around us.

I just destroyed the real estate equivalent of a Bond villain. Earlier this week, I locked in a multi-million dollar government contract. Neither of those situations made me feel timid, nor did they make me feel nervous.

Not like this.

Sophia’s friends exchanged looks with each other, none of their eyes falling on me—wordlessly having some sort of discussion I was not privy to.

Cassie nodded at her brother, and Brent’s eyes fell to mine.

“So.” Brent’s deep voice broke through the noise, crossing his arms and inflating his biceps. “You and Sophia only know each other through work?”

I nodded, taking a longer pull from my beer bottle, trying to rush alcohol into my system.

“Wow, I think it’s next-level leadership when a boss is willing to throw down on a shady ex in a back alley,” Sam added before pressing a beer to his lips, keeping his eyes locked on me.

“Yeah, not to mention you seem awfully curious about Sophia’s whereabouts every time you stay at Elijah’s,” Cassie piled on with a knowing smirk.

“Yeah, and he lives in New York,” Trevor added, cocking his head to the side. “Say, gang, didn’t Sophia just mysteriously vanish in New York for a couple of days with some unknown stranger?”

“And when she came back, she seemed all… flushed with excitement.” Devyn startled me, sneaking back to the table with our drinks and responding like she’d been a part of the whole conversation.

I choked on my beer while all Sophia’s friends exchanged giddy grins.