Chapter 50 A Lawyer

Chapter 50 A Lawyer
  Liam
  “…we can do something, right?” I asked, pacing the room. There was a brief pause on the other end.
  “Yeah. We can indeed do something.”
  Those words were enough to make my day.
  I’d contacted one of the highest-ranking tech CEOs in the country. A friend of a friend. According to him, it was possible to corrupt—or if needed—permanently delete a file.
  “Okay, so how do we go about this?” I asked. Papers shuffled on the other end.
  “What kind of file are we talking about here?”
  I stopped pacing, drawing in a deep breath.
  “Well, records of my girlfriend that, if released to the media… her whole life—” I exhaled. “Her career would be jeopardized.”
  No one should have control over information like that. I’d trusted my PR manager—who had since been fired. She’d signed a damn contract.
  If I’d known, I would’ve gone through every clause repeatedly. But the damage was done.
  “Sex tapes?” Mr. Thompson asked flatly.
  I coughed. “What the hell? Of course not. Well—” I ran a hand through my hair. “I’m not entirely sure about that.”
  I sighed.
  “Look, I’m a public figure. We had a fake relationship to help my reputation. It was fake,” I muttered. The man hummed.
  “These records include her therapy sessions, family records—which…” God, this was complicated.
  “Which she knows nothing about,” I continued. “I want them gone. Deleted. Permanently.”
  I ran my fingers through my hair again.
  “So let me guess,” he said slowly. I paused. “You like this woman now.”
  I nodded, even though he couldn’t see me.
  “Yes,” I said quietly. My chest tightened.
  There hadn’t been a single update on her. No sightings. No news. The tabloids had moved on, obsessed with a wedding that wouldn’t even happen.
  I exhaled.
  “I’m being blackmailed into a marriage. If I refuse, her files will be released. I can’t even contact her—it would put her at risk.”
  “I need this done as soon as possible,” I added. “So I can find her.”
  Silence followed. Somehow, it felt like he could help. Like he truly could.
  “Alright, Carter,” he said finally. “I’ll get my people on it. Records, files—everything will be gone.”
  For the first time in three weeks, hope stirred.
  “Let’s just hope they aren’t encrypted,” he added. “That would take more time. And time isn’t something you have.”
  Fuck. I already knew they’d be encrypted.
  “What’s your price?” I asked. “I’ll pay whatever.”
  He chuckled—deep and dry. “Let’s fix this first. Don’t you think?”
  I exhaled. “Okay.”
  “I’ll keep you updated, Mr. Carter.”
  The call ended.
  I sat on the bed, dragging my hands down my face.
  Those files were ugly. They would ruin her life.
  If she ever found out her biological parents were part of a syndicate—a drug cartel, America’s most wanted—it would destroy every opportunity she ever got. Worse, her life would be in danger.
  I couldn’t risk that.
  I was sacrificing our happiness for her safety.
  My phone rang. I grabbed it immediately thinking it was Thompson—only to see Abigail’s name.
  I let it go to voicemail.
  This was ridiculous. She was beautiful, desired, surrounded by options. One snap of her fingers and men would line up.
  So why this?
  Why insist on a loveless marriage built on blackmail?
  Even with my mother’s full support, something felt off. I didn’t buy the “power couple” bullshit. She had plenty of other men to choose from.
  So why me?
  She called twice more. Then my mother did. I huffed. Seriously?
  A text followed.
  “Getting to the media is just a call away :)”
  I tossed my phone aside as realization set in.
  They weren’t planning to release the files—not yet. They were using it as leverage. Control. A way to force me into doing their sick job.
  This had been planned from the start.
  They’d tampered with the contract Maya signed. Added clauses. Forged her signature.
  I could take them to court for blackmail. Forgery.
  It was solid. I could dig up dirt on them too.
  Perfect.
  Now all I needed was a lawyer.
  A very good one.