Page 38 of Ugly Truths (The Veiled Truths Trilogy #2)

Silas

D avey leads me down a hallway, our footsteps echoing against the polished concrete to another metal door. He punches in a final code into a keypad next to the handle, and the heavy door cracks open.

The hum of the servers fills the air, machines sitting neatly in even rows across one side of the room.

On the other side, a few cubicle-style desks are clustered alongside a conference table.

The setup mimics what we had back at the warehouse—Andrew Mallory, one of my father’s old friends, pulled out all the stops to make sure of it when he leased him the space.

Paul is stationed at a cubicle, his eyes flicking from his laptop screen to the three men who are technically our hostages.

They are all at the conference table, deeply engrossed in their work. Unfortunately, I am already acquainted with Luis, but Ben and Corey are just names I associated with voices until now.

One is medium height, with a forgettable blend of brown hair and an equally average build.

The other sits slightly slouched, his features a stark contrast with sandy blond hair, which is a bit too long.

These are the two men who managed to infiltrate the secured system we've spent millions of dollars to construct and maintain.

Their normalcy is almost alarming.

Scattered coffee cups, takeout boxes, and energy cans ring the table’s edge, pushed aside repeatedly to make space for laptops and screens .

All eyes flick towards us, but it’s Luis’s gaze that locks onto mine. He looks nothing like the last time we met, bloodied and tied to a chair. The fading bruises and scabs are the only things that remain.

Pity .

I don’t like or trust the fucker. He might have helped Elena disappear when she needed it most, but he also spent years working for Peter.

Elena was young and inexperienced when she first started, and then she was blackmailed into staying.

Luis, however, is a grown man. Maybe a few years older than me, and he knew exactly who Peter was.

He had the autonomy to walk away. The fact that he didn’t says everything I need to know about him.

We haven’t heard a peep about Peter since Davey’s source in California tracked him down just long enough for us to think we had something before he disappeared again. Looking at Luis is a reminder that Peter’s still out there somewhere, and that just pisses me off more.

My only consolation is that Luis despises me. Not just for what I did to him, but for having Elena.

I’ve been about as subtle as a bulldozer on our daily calls about where she’s living.

Petty, maybe, but I’m not about to let him think he has a chance with her.

Not that she’s ever seemed to look at him that way, but I won’t risk it.

He’s so obviously hung up on her that I wouldn’t put it past him to try something if he could see her in person.

Hell, it’s most of the reason I won’t tell her where they’re temporarily living.

What’s even sweeter is that Elena has been keeping her distance.

No requests to see him or conversations beyond what’s necessary about the servers.

She’s polite, even warm at times, but always professional.

And every text Luis has sent asking to talk has been ignored.

I never asked her to do any of it, but she’s been passing this unintentional test with flying fucking colors.

And I hope that Luis knowing where she’s been staying and why she’s been avoiding him is torture.

Wondering if she’s with me. If I’m touching her.

If she’s giving me everything he wants. I pray that it eats him alive to think of us together.

Imagining what she sounds like when she comes, like she did this morning with her hair fanned out across my pillow—one leg pinned high and tight against my chest, muscles flexing under my grip as I angled her just right, tits bouncing with every thrust while I scraped kisses and teeth up her calf.

Davey's voice cuts through my vivid memory. “The program is working, but we have to keep refining it as we go,” he starts, leading me further into the room. My gaze wanders to the servers. “The deeper we get, the more unfamiliar encryption I see.”

My unease grows. This mystery team had access to our most secure files, including cutting-edge research, patient details, and comprehensive financial records. And all for what, exactly? So William can keep the rest of us completely in the dark?

Once at the table's edge, I introduce myself to Ben and Corey with a nod, Ben being the brunette and Corey being the blonde. I skip the handshakes, which neither of them seems to expect or want. This is purely transactional, and none of us will pretend otherwise.

I turn to Luis. "You're looking much better than the last time I saw you," I remark. From my side, Davey releases a barely audible sigh.

Luis's jaw tightens before biting back, "Tell Cillian to go fuck himself."

I flash a grin, all teeth. “I’ll be sure to do that, though he was just following orders. He’s a really great listener.”

Luis’s tanned skin turns red, all the way to the tips of his ears. That reaction alone is the dopamine hit of a lifetime.

Just as Davey tries to cut in, my phone buzzes against my thigh. Elias’s name flashes across the screen. I don’t look at Luis again. “Any privacy down here?” I ask Davey, and he gestures to a side door.

The storage room he pointed to is small and cluttered with server tools. I flick on the light, shut the door, and hope the signal holds.

I answer, “Elias.”

“Silas,” he replies, sounding a bit worn. “How are the audits going?”

“So far, so good,” I fib, sliding a hand into my pocket.

“That’s great, ”

There’s a brief pause before I push for a lighter note, “Did you call because you miss the sound of my voice?” Normally, this would draw a laugh from him, but today, silence follows.

Elias exhales heavily. “Have you talked to Jeremy recently?”

I frown, staring at the floor. We haven't spoken since that night at the club before he ditched Davey and me for his friends.

Dread starts to trickle in.

“He came to my office yesterday, asking for a mentorship,” Elias says without waiting for me to answer. “I asked him why he didn’t ask you, and he was quick to say you’re too distracted to help him.”

Heat rises under my skin, but I keep my voice steady. “Did he now?”

The rustle on the other end of the line tells me Elias is nodding. “Your personal life is none of my business, but he mentioned your ex being back in town and how it’s affecting your focus.”

It takes all of my self-control not to bark out an incredulous laugh.

This is how my father thinks he will regain control. Because let’s be honest, that’s who formulated this idea. Who else could have told Jeremy that Elena is here?

I can picture Elias sitting uncomfortably behind his desk, being forced to listen to all the ways Jeremy regurgitated that Elena is a gold digger—her date at the Gilded Sear, the time she spent living with me in the spring, how she ran away.

My jaw flexes, though I try to relax the muscles there. “Do you agree that my mind and dedication have been elsewhere?”

“No, that’s why I called.” My shoulders deflate a fraction with relief. “But Jeremy seemed very adamant about discussing it. You know I sympathize with his situation, but I joined the board because of the vision you sold me on. So, I wanted to check in.”

Though I see Elias first and foremost as a trusted associate, we’ve also become friends.

I was the one who sought him out for the board after we were introduced at a charity event.

His more progressive business stances aligned with mine and offered balance to a room that was mostly handpicked by my father.

Both William and Jeremy knew this, and they still tried to plant seeds of doubt in the one board member most loyal to me, aside from Natalie.

There are two potential outcomes he’s hoping for in this smear campaign: I cave to the COO nomination, or he’s going to attempt a vote reversal on the CEO transition.

My own fucking father.

“Well, since my personal life seems to be on the table,” I start with a lightness I don't feel, “Scarlett is back in Chicago. We're keeping things quiet, but my father has some unfounded concerns about her.” The more half-truths I find myself saying, the easier it is to understand how Elena was able to fool me for as long as she did. “Davey’s looked into her extensively. She checks out.”

Elias responds, almost relieved. “Good. I liked Scarlett when we met. She seemed like she could handle you.”

I almost forgot that I introduced them at the one gala Elena and I attended together. Elias's approval eases some of my tension, but just barely.

“She understands my work and where my priorities lie.” Looking around the small storage room, I search for the right combination of words. “I think Jeremy is hurt over the last board meeting and has gotten himself stuck in the middle of this thing with my father and me.”

Elias scoffs a little. “Yeah, well, they're lucky that the conversation ended when it did. I thought Everett was going to blow a fucking gasket when Jeremy suggested we’d figure out the financials as we went.”

I manage the smallest chuckle. “I don’t think any of us were prepared for how that conversation went, maybe besides my father.”

Another small pause. “We were all surprised by William’s response, even Randall. It’s not like your dad to throw caution to the wind on anything, let alone an operational change that large.”

My eyebrows lift. The board is gossiping across party lines.

“I appreciate you letting me know all of this,” I say, breezing past his last comment.

And I mean it. My father’s mistake was sending my brother instead of handling it himself.

Jeremy is great at misleading people from a distance, but he doesn’t have an ounce of real finesse in his whole body, especially when it comes to swaying someone as intelligent and level-headed as Elias.

“Of course. I want to see you succeed. But I can’t imagine that I’m the only person he’s approached.” Elias voices the concerns that have already seeped into the corners of my thoughts.

If William’s desperate enough to come after my allies, there’s no telling what he’s feeding the rest. Beyond the board, if word gets out that Scarlett is back in town, it could reach ears I don’t want it to—like Peter's.

“Looks like I have a lot of calls to make,” I muse, forcing a joking edge to my tone.

“Let me know if you need anything in the meantime,” he concludes as he shuffles papers on the other end of the line.

My tongue glides over the front of my teeth. “Thanks, E,” I reply, and end the call.

As I slide the phone back into my pocket, silence closes in, the heat claws beneath my skin. I brace myself against the cool metal of a utility rack and focus on my breathing. If I step out now and Luis so much as glances my way, I might just hurl him into the servers.

Each time I think William has hit rock bottom, he grabs a shovel and digs deeper. I’ve witnessed this behavior from the sidelines more times than I can count, but being on the receiving end of it is a wholly different story.

The disagreements and arguments over the years were par for the course.

Not everyone will align with my vision, and I accept that.

But what’s happening now beyond anything he’s ever said or done before.

This is a direct attack on the future I've been meticulously groomed for. The essence of my career at Wells.

All being orchestrated by the man who made sure I ended up here.

As these thoughts fuse, something simmers low in my gut. It’s acidic. Corrosive. Eating away at my insides and demanding more.

Hatred.

The word enters my brain before I can stop it. And it’s aimed at one of the people I never thought I’d feel it toward, in this lifetime or any other.