Chapter 22 The Price of Loyalty
After breakfast, I say goodbye to Anastasia at the subway exit and cut through Central Park. The place is packed. People walking dogs, sprawled on blankets with picnics, chasing after their kids. It is a perfect day for a quiet walk under the trees.
I am so lost in my thoughts that I do not realize it until I am standing right under it, but I know this tree. Mom and I used to bring Liam here right after he was born. We would lie down the same way everyone is doing today, talking, laughing, killing whole afternoons without a care in the world, with no idea what was barreling straight for us.
I stop and look up. The tree looks a little barer now. The trunk is thinner, the leaves have grayed at the edges. I feel that familiar ache in my chest. That deep, throbbing kind of pain that comes with remembering she is gone. We will never sit under these thinning branches again and complain about all the little things that used to feel like the biggest problems in the world.
Sometimes I miss her so much I cannot stand it. That is usually when the memories I had completely forgotten come back and hit me.
"Did you see that? Did you see?" Mom grabs my ankle. "He just twerked!"
I was lying in the grass with my hands clasped behind my head. I did not even bother to open my eyes. Mom was always claiming Liam had done this or that. Most of the time what she called a sign of genius turned out to be gas.
"Does not surprise me. He is your kid."
She smacked my leg. "You are not even looking."
"Yeah, he is a boy. I seriously doubt he is twerking."
"Look!"
Reluctantly, I cracked one eye open and glanced at my brother. His chubby little hands were planted in the grass while his butt wiggled in the air.
"I think he is just leaning over."
She shot me an irritated look. "Look at that little butt shaking! This boy has rhythm in his bones."
Liam let out a little squeal and pushed himself up, then immediately fell back down. Lucky for him he had some baby fat and a diaper to protect him.
I swallowed a yawn. "If you say so."
She grabbed Liam and lifted him up to her face, making his chubby little legs spin. "Your big sister does not realize what a bright, talented little bunny you are! Yes you are!" Mom stuck her tongue out at me. "Your big sister Catherine is such a stick in the mud."
I rolled onto my stomach and looked up at her and Liam. "Can I ask you a serious question, maybe even a politically incorrect one?"
"Obviously. Those are my favorites."
"Do you think you will ever regret it? Having Liam so young?"
Mom’s smile did not waver, not even for a millisecond. "No."
"Just like that? No reason? You did not even think about it."
She gave me an unflinching look. "You have known me for nineteen years, Catherine. Tell me, has there ever been a time when I did not know exactly what I wanted?"
I thought about it. "No, I guess not."
She nodded. "I might be young," she shifted Liam and settled him on her lap, "but I will never regret my family. This baby is my whole world. I would give my life for him."
"You say the same thing about me."
"Sure, but I never meant it literally with you. With him? I do."
I tossed my empty soda can at her, and she laughed. Even Liam giggled. Those days felt so ordinary. They got lost in the blur of bigger moments, the big milestones.
If only I had known then how much I would miss them.
"Excuse me? Are you Catherine Hale?"
I blink at the wiry man standing in front of me. He has what looks like a smile, but nothing about it feels friendly.
"Excuse me, have we met before?"
"Well no. Not technically speaking."
I frown. "Who are you?"
He holds out his hand before answering the question. "Damien Cross."
I rack my brain for the name, but I cannot place it. I shake his hand just to keep up appearances. "How can I help you?"
"I work for the Booking Gazette. I like to do my research, Ms. Hale, and I know quite a bit about the man you work for."
"Wait… is this about Eric… uh… Mr. Wood?"
He nods and his eyes narrow, but his smile does not falter. He gives me the creeps.
"I would like to ask you a few questions, if you do not mind."
I have always had a hard time saying no. But after Mom died, it got a lot easier. The finality of her being gone made me realize that, in the end, I did not care whether people liked me or not. She loved me, and that was enough.
"Thanks, but no thanks. Have a good day." I try to step around him, but he mirrors my movement and blocks me.
"Do not think of this as an interview. Think of it as a public service."
"Excuse me?"
"You are his personal assistant, which means you work closely with him. You know him well. And I am willing to bet you can find out a lot more."
I stare at him, mouth open. "You want me to spy on him for you?"
"I will pay you well." He pulls a card from the pocket of his light blue jacket and hands it to me. "My contact info is on the front. On the back, your compensation."
I flip it over. Before I even see the number, I know it will not change anything, but I am still curious.
More specifically, I am still getting used to this new reality where I do not have to pinch pennies and beg for every cent. The shock of seeing that much money within reach does not hit me the same way anymore.
But even if I was tempted to sell out Eric, it does not compare to what he pays me to be his… well, his "after-work friend."
I know Eric is no choirboy. And I would bet anything that he does not like being crossed. Honestly, I know he does not like it at all. I have seen him make grown men cry. I even handed a tissue to one of them on my way out of WSL.
I do not want to imagine what he could—or would—do to me.
"Thank you," I say, handing the card back to Cross. "But like I said: no thanks."
His eyebrows lift and he ignores my hand holding out the card. "Come on. You are a young woman with a dependent brother, living in an expensive city. You need this money."
The way he insists, like he knows more than I do, only makes my decision easier. I need to get as far away from him and his awful haircut as possible.
"I might need money, but I do not need or want yours."
Instead of going around him, I turn and walk away. He does not get it. He follows me to the edge of Central Park.
"Loyalty is admirable, Catherine, but not when it comes to men like Wood. He is not a good man."
"That is what the guy harassing a woman in broad daylight says."
His eyes narrow. "I am not the villain here. I am trying to stop the villain. Do you really want to clean up the mess of a man who gets away with murder?"
I do not flinch. I do not know Cross from Adam, but something about his behavior makes me uneasy. It is the sly way his eyes scan me. The way he demands my help like he is entitled to it. The way he thinks it is okay, in 2026, to follow a woman who is clearly not interested.
"Those are serious accusations," I say coldly. "I would be careful about trashing the reputation of one of New York’s most generous businessmen."
Cross scoffs. "Those charities are a joke. They are probably just fronts anyway. I already have dirt on him. If you helped me, Catherine, I could expose that bastard. One article. That is all it would take."
I stop so abruptly that Cross stumbles and steps back. "Mr. Cross, you told me what you wanted from me. I politely declined. I think it is time for you to leave."
His lower lip curls. "This is not over. I will get what I want, Miss Hale."
I sigh. "That is what most men think. It is the tragedy of the patriarchy."
His frown deepens. "One way or another, I will expose Wood. And you will help me."
Before I can tell him to go to hell, he turns and heads back into the park.
I glance at the business card still in my hand. I am sure he has dug up plenty of nasty secrets on Eric. But I would bet that whatever Cross has on Eric will not be enough to take him down.
In fact, I would bet everything I own that Cross will be the first to fall.