I was tempted to remind him the word he was looking for was “affair,” but semantics weren’t really top priority at that moment.

Jordan plucked one document out of a pile.

“Val caught my attention in one of my trips. How could she not? Look at her. We began to see each other every time I was in town. Which was a lot. I admit, I was smitten. Val, however, did not share the sentiment, as she continued her straying ways. I let her, because, let’s admit it—she wasn’t my only mistress, either.”

He handed me the document, and I took it, examining it through a mist of red anger. It was a report conducted by a private investigator named Barry Guilfoyle. There were highlights of the times I’d been away from the apartment, from Luna, showing I was working long hours and going on frequent business trips, leaving her with Camila or with my parents.

“We were supposed to get stronger as time progressed, Val and me. I told her to have an abortion. It didn’t matter who was the father. I didn’t appreciate being fiscally chained to some stripper, either.” Jordan drew a breath, handing me some more documents. “Val said you were the father. That you were too good a financial opportunity to pass up. I didn’t offer her money, assuming that you would. I’d knocked up a couple of women in my day after marrying Lydia, and I bought my way through their abortions easily enough. But you chose not to pay, and by the time I calmed down and got back into the picture, Val was already five months pregnant. Too late for her to get rid of the kid.”

To get rid of the kid.

I clenched my fists, my jaw, my fucking ass, in an effort not to murder him. He passed me a few low resolution printed pictures. They showed Camila frowning at Luna. That was just Camila’s stern expression sometimes. It didn’t mean shit. Another picture of me pulling Luna’s curls into a ponytail. She liked her ponytail tight, no bumps, so it looked like I was hurting her. But I wasn’t. She was standing between my legs in a coffee shop, both her arms resting on my thighs, looking elsewhere. The pictures looked bad, but the situations were completely innocent. Still, why take any chances?

“You better watch your mouth,” I warned, “or you’ll be very fucking sorry.”

Jordan laughed, sighing with contempt. “When we did a test and realized the baby was yours, I left. But I got back with Val…eventually. See, in the space between the time Luna was born and when she turned one year old, Val was trying to win you. Seduce you. Be with you. I get it. You’re younger, hungrier, better looking. But you’re not smarter, Trent. You’re a bloody idiot who got lucky because his friends were too generous and let him have a piece of the pie. You should have never gotten a piece of the pie. The pie is not for you to eat.”

I gritted my teeth, letting him finish, processing everything. The pictures. The reports. The case Jordan had been building against me for fucking years. My greatest fear—Val coming back to take Luna—was materializing in front of my face, with a cherry on top in the form of Jordan scheming against me. I knew exactly what Val’s angle would be. We did coke together the night I knocked her up.

She could say I had a drug problem in court.

She could even make it believable.

Our case had years in court written all over it.

I took a step in his direction, and he almost flinched. I tipped my chin up, looking down at him. “Why go through all this trouble?”

“Because I never lose, peasant. Especially not to another ex-poor boy like you.”

Ex-poor boy. I should have known that Jordan was like me. The chip on the shoulder was there—it was always there—only difference was mine was skin deep. His—bone deep.

Every muscle in my body told me to pounce on him and rip him apart. My mind told me to wait it out and hit harder than with my fists.

“I won Val back, but not without a fight. While I kept her in Atlanta, she begged me to contact Luna. I, of course, told her it was out of the question. I purchased your company, wanting to be close to you, wanting to study you, to see what made you tick. Because the end game…” Jordan got up, scooping the papers on the coffee table and tucking them under his arm. “The end game was to end you.”

The moment of epiphany made me feel like Samson on his last breath, when God gave him the strength to pull the pillars, bringing the roof down. Samson got killed in the process, but he took the Philistines down. I knew I’d do the same if I had to.

Jordan bought my company because he wanted to demolish me, personally and professionally, so that he’d have more control over that. And to punish me for something I wasn’t even aware.

He promised Val a happily-ever-after and her kid back.

He wanted to frame me, ruin me, and take what’s mine. The woman I didn’t want and the girl I’d do everything for.

Jordan flicked the papers, causing them to rain down on the floor, and tugged at Val’s limp arm to get her up from my couch. “And with Luna not wanting to talk, this is going to look very bad in court, Rexroth. You traumatized her with your lifestyle—she’s too terrified to make a sound. With that in mind, I suggest you hand us your resignation first thing tomorrow morning, sell me your shares in the company, and meet us this weekend to discuss joint custody with Val. She wants in on Luna, and she expects you to pick up the bill for her accommodation. I think it’s fair.”

I smiled as the documents scattered all around us. What Val wanted was access to my money. Bonus points: living in a glitzy SoCal town close to her multi-billionaire lover who was smart enough not to marry her ass.

Jordan stormed out, his shoulder brushing mine. “Keep the duplicates, Rexroth. My treat.”

I was still standing there with my heart in my fucking throat and my soul clutched in my fist when Jordan and Val reached the door. She looked like a guilty, apologetic mess, and he looked like the devil. He turned around.

“Trent Rexroth being mute. Hardly a surprise.”

“You want words?” I took a step in his direction, grinning. “Here’s something to tide you over: thank you for giving me the play-by-play of your game. Keep your eyes open.” I pushed both of them out of my apartment, my arm slung over the door. The last thing I said before slamming it in their bewildered faces was, “My turn.”

“I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU’RE MAKING me do this,” I moaned, knocking Bane’s shoulder with mine. Dark sunglasses covered the better part of my face, shielding my pumpkin-sized puffy eyes. I wore one of his surfing tank tops and short shorts, because I hadn’t had time to grab anything from my parents’ mansion before my father changed the locks and essentially kicked me out without giving me the chance to grab my stuff.

Bane and I stood on his mother’s wide porch. The rustic material and elaborate, colorful garden were oddly reassuring. Someone who lived in such a warm, inviting place couldn’t be the type to hurt me, right?

“It’s been a long time coming. Especially now when Rexroth is busy playing house with his ex.” Bane pushed his blond hair up into a bun, rapping the door loudly. I thought it was weird that he didn’t walk in, but Bane was a master when it came to strange relationships. Considering he’d moved out of the house at eighteen and not gone to college, I figured he liked his space, and maybe his mother did, too.

“She’s not his ex, and I have no evidence they’re playing house together.” I sniffed, rubbing my tired eyes beneath the shades. Seeing Val there had hurt like a thousand violent deaths, but I tried to tell myself that this was what was best for Luna. And Trent…if he wanted to get back with her, I couldn’t blame him. I knew nothing about relationships, nothing about being a parent, and next-to-zero about how to keep a family united.

The door swung open, and the person on the other end knocked my breath out of my lungs.

Bane stepped in, oblivious to the fact the rug, once again, had been pulled out from under my feet.

“Gidget, this is my mom, Sonya. Sonya, this is Gidget, also known as Edie Van Der Zee.”

Sonya.

The redheaded woman Trent had been having sex with when I’d walked into his office. To get back at me for allegedly having sex with Bane. Her son. I didn’t know whether I should feel horrified or annoyed at this. Sonya obviously shared my feelings, because she took a step back from the door and clutched the fabric of her baby blue blouse, momentarily rendered speechless.

“Oh,” she said, the word escaping from her mouth barely audible. I believed Trent when he’d said he was no longer seeing her, but it didn’t make it any less awkward. I wondered if she knew about him and me. If she resented me for it. If she’d even want to help me.

“What are you waiting for, Gidget? The fucking Pope? Come on in,” Bane grunted, making his way through the tiled hallway to the kitchen at the end of it and throwing the fridge open. He took out two cans of beer, like we weren’t eighteen and underage, and sauntered over to the open-plan living room. I stayed on the threshold, unable to do so much as take my shades off.

“Edie,” Sonya whispered urgently, opening the door wider. “It’s okay. You can trust me. I’ve worked as a child psychologist for fifteen years now. Forget what you saw that day. This will not affect you or your brother.”

My brother. That’s right. She was the reason why I’d seen him that Sunday.

Gingerly, I took a step in. Bane was already in the living room, cracking the beers open, The Black Keys’ “Lonely Boy” blasting from the speakers. Sonya and I walked like two stiff figures toward the couch, and I tried to cough away the ball of shame and jealousy building in my throat.

“Wash it with a beer.” Bane flung his long legs over an ottoman, dropping to a shabby, something-from-Friends, purple couch. I glanced at Sonya, who gave me a polite smile.

“You’ve had a long week, I hear.”

I downed the can in a couple long gulps and threw my head onto one of the pillows, closing my eyes for a moment. Thank you.

Sonya laced her fingers in front of me, her legs crossed, giving me her undivided attention. She was dressed to kill, and my feelings toward her were at war. I wanted to dislike her, but how could I when she was hell-bent on helping me, and being so goddamn nice?