Chapter 31 Old Friends
~Hermes~
I sigh in relief when I see she’s not at her desk.
Maybe she’s done cleaning the mess in my office.
Good. I can avoid looking at her. I don't need to remind myself what I just did to her imaginary self.
I slip inside, heading straight to the bathroom, then scrub my hands like I’m erasing evidence.
I sit down, try to breathe. I can handle this.
I can definitely handle seeing her.
My gaze drifts up, and through the open blinds, our eyes meet.
Fuck.
I can’t handle this. I shoot to my feet and drag the blinds closed, pulling a breath through my teeth.
I can’t look at her face, so I bury myself in work.
I scroll through my schedule.
Great—Checkers is supposed to be here any minute, hopefully with good news.
As I skim the next appointment, my phone lights up.
Checkers: Hi. I can’t come. We have to keep it discreet, so Charlotte is coming instead.
My eyes flick to the message again.
Lottie? Oh wow.
Well, this just got better. There’s no better distraction than catching up with an old friend I haven’t seen in a long time.
To prepare, I start approving the stack of documents on my desk.
Then I hear a knock—June's. I already know her knock pattern by heart.
I don’t answer right away, instead I school my face, mentally prepping to yell at her or give her some random task—anything to keep her from hovering—
Oh.
It’s not June.
It’s Charlotte.
Wait—is it time already?
My lips actually twitch into the biggest grin I’ve worn all week.
Charlotte looks healthy, better than I expected. Checkers really did well by her.
“Hermes,” she calls, cheerful, arms already spreading.
“Lottie,” I say, stepping into the hug.
Now this—this is one hell of a distraction.
When we break apart, I glance around, half-ready to snap at June to leave—
But she’s not here. Good for me.
"Oh my God, you've grown so big," Charlotte says, settling into the seat across from me.
"And handsome," I add, with a wink.
She laughs, soft and familiar. "Good to know you haven’t changed one bit."
I smile, but it’s quieter. "Oh, I have. A lot has changed."
She doesn’t know the half of it.
Charlotte, Jack, Gavin, Ted—we’d been thick as thieves back in college. Then I ghosted them, leaving for Australia. Let's call it disappearing.
None of them really know about the condition. That secret I keep within me.
"You look healthier," I say, turning to make her coffee. "I would’ve broken Checkers’ jaw if you looked worse," I add with a smirk.
"Oh, Hermes," she sighs, rolling her eyes with a smile. "I’ve been fine for years now. Five cancer-free. You’re just outdated—because you vanished—and leave my husband's jaw out of your fists. Especially when he’s trying to help you."
I raise both hands. "Alright, alright. You win." I place the coffee at her side of the desk and sit down. "Now. Tell me you’ve got good news."
Old friends or not, this meeting is business.
Her husband, Checkers, works at a private forensic agency. I’d sent him a copy of the document—the one my father signed before the scandal broke, and asked him to verify the signature, to tell me whether it was real… or forged.
I see Charlotte’s smile drop.
Fuck. This isn’t good news.
I press my lips together. "It’s real."
Charlotte’s brows furrow as she nods, softly. “
"The signature’s real as day. I’m so sorry, Hermes."
I sigh, rubbing my jaw, disbelief crawling up my spine.
"I don't buy it. Maybe he was forced into signing it. I just have to find another way."
Charlotte leans forward, gently taking my hands.
"Or maybe he signed it willingly. Hermes, he was a businessman. That merger deal was profitable. It would’ve made sense for him to—"
"No," I cut in sharply.
"He might not be talking now, or even moving at all, but his eyes tell me something else. He didn’t just sign that document."
She holds on tighter, squeezing my hands with a soft smile.
"Alright. If you say so, then I believe you. And Checkers will keep investigating."
I pull my hand from her grip and lean back in my chair.
"Drink your coffee," I mutter, not sure what else to say.
Charlotte breaks into an amused smile. "I don’t drink coffee anymore, Hermes."
I sit up, surprised. "Since when? You used to be the caffeine queen."
She chuckles. "Since I got sick and then got better. You really are outdated. You should come by the house sometime—spend some time with Luca."
My eyes light up. Luca—her son. I haven’t seen him since the day he was born.
"How’s Luca?"
Charlotte sighs, lifting her fingers to count them off.
"Big. Stubborn. Sassy. Doesn’t listen to me at all."
I laugh. "Well, sounds like he takes after you."
She snorts and unlocks her phone, flashing the screen at me. A photo of Luca at an amusement park, mid-scowl.
"See? I told you he looks exactly like Checkers. If I ever catch that ugly—"
Her glare cuts me off. I quickly mutter, "Sorry."
She relaxes, smile returning. "So. Any girlfriend? Wife?"
I yawn lazily, pushing up from my chair to stretch before heading over to the couch in front of my desk.
"Why are you dodging the question?" Charlotte drawls, dragging the words like she’s some therapist and I’m her reluctant client. She settles on the opposite couch, crossing her legs with theatrical grace.
"You know I’ve got no one, Lottie. The current situation’s distracting enough," I mutter, grabbing a stress ball off the couch and tossing it into the air.
"Don’t use that as an excuse," she says, narrowing her eyes playfully. "You were always the ladies’ man back in college, remember?"
Charlotte winks and reclines on the couch too, clearly enjoying herself.
I scoff. "Yeah, yeah."
She shifts onto her side, then nods toward the office door with a knowing smirk.
"That girl at the desk? She seems like your type."
Oh fuck.
She just had to bring June up.
I shift onto my side with a frown. "How professional are you, Lottie?"
She bursts out laughing. "I know, I know! I’m just kidding. To be honest… the boys told me about her," she confesses.
I knew it. Those bastards.
"Don’t listen to them," I sigh, tossing the ball up again. "They’re just looking for ways to get words out of my mouth."
She clicks her tongue. "Okay, what about Natalya?"
My hand freezes mid-air with the ball.
No. No.
"Don’t bring her up. Please," I say, my voice clipped, face suddenly serious.
Charlotte raises a brow. "Alright, sir."
"I’m sorry—I just—"
The sound of the door sliding open cuts me off.
My brows draw together instantly. I specifically told June not to interrupt me mid-meeting.
But here she is, standing in the doorframe, and staring at us like she just walked in on her husband at a whorehouse.
What the hell is wrong with her?