Chapter 2 Someone Else

"What did you just say?"

Brett's voice dropped like ice. He sat at his desk, eyes locked on the report his assistant had just forwarded about Stacey's recital. His gaze sharpened. "You're telling me those two had nothing to do with Caylee?"

If she wasn't behind it, why hadn't she defended herself? Why had she stayed silent?

Neal Saunders, his assistant, spoke carefully, lowering his tone. "At this point, we've found no proof tying Mrs. Griffiths to them."

Brett's hand slammed the desk. "Keep checking! It has to trace back to her somehow!"

In his mind, there was no other possibility. Stacey was kind, gentle, and incapable of stirring conflict. She had only been back in the country three months, hardly enough time to create enemies. No, it had to be Caylee, eaten up by jealousy.

There was no way he had been wrong about Caylee. No way.

Anger boiled inside him. He snapped his laptop closed with a loud crack. "What about Matthew Walsh? Still nothing from him?"

Walsh Group was one of their key partners, and they had just wrapped a major deal. Yet, right when the launch was nearing, Matthew, heir to the family, had suddenly gone silent.

Neal's tone was cautious. "That deal was originally under Mrs. Griffiths. Ever since you pulled her off two days ago, Matthew hasn't replied at all."

Brett's jaw tightened. Again, Caylee. Somehow, always Caylee.

"Keep pressing him," he growled. "I don't buy that we can't secure this deal without her."

He had barely finished speaking when the office door opened. Stacey walked in, her movements calm, her presence as graceful as ever.

"Brett, I've brought you some good news," she said softly.

Neal, sensing it wasn't his place, excused himself quickly and left the two alone.

Some of Brett's anger eased the moment he wrapped Stacey in his arms. "Tell me," he asked gently.

Her voice was gentle, carrying just enough sweetness to soothe. "I heard about your concerns with the Walsh project. A few days ago, Matthew's mother mentioned he has been searching everywhere for the healer Zephyr to treat his grandfather. And I happen to know Zephyr. If we go together, you'll have the perfect opening to speak with Matthew."

Brett's face brightened immediately, and he kissed her at the corner of her lips. "I'm blessed to have you."

Across town, Caylee had just settled into her new apartment when her phone buzzed with a message. "Boss, I heard about your divorce. Perfect timing. There's a ten-million-dollar job on Zephyr. Want to take it?

Caylee typed back calmly, "Not interested right now."

Almost instantly, another message appeared. "Boss, it's the Walsh family. Remember last month? To help that bastard ex of yours close the Walsh deal, you promised the patriarch a favor. This might be it."

Caylee's gaze sharpened.

For the past year, Griffiths Group had been going through a major shift. To keep things on track, she had secretly stepped in as "Zephyr" and won the Walsh family's project. To make sure nothing went wrong, she'd gone as far as vowing to manage the project personally.

Yet before the project could even take off, Brett had thrown divorce papers in her face.

The deal might no longer have anything to do with her, but the promise, her word, was something she still couldn't abandon.

"Accept the job," she ordered firmly.

Somewhere else, a young man with sharp, almost aristocratic features leaned lazily in his chair as his phone lit up-Zephyr had taken the job.

A glint stirred in his dark eyes, excitement breaking through his usual cool. All the effort and money he had poured into posting that bounty for Zephyr had finally worked.

Just the thought of the elusive healer brought a smile to his face.

His thumb idly traced the edge of his phone as he muttered under his breath, "So, we meet again. I wonder, what kind of surprise will you bring me this time?"

When the day came for Caylee to head to the Walsh estate, fate dealt her a shock.

Stopped at a red light, her car lined up next to a sleek black Bentley. For just a second, through the tinted window, she saw a masked man inside.

Her heart lurched violently. It was the same mask she had clung to in the wreckage three years ago.

The signal switched to green.

Without a second thought, she pressed the accelerator and fell in behind the Bentley. Traffic thickened, but the Bentley's driver clearly had no intention of being followed. The car sped ahead, weaving through lanes with ruthless precision.

Caylee's knuckles blanched against the wheel. To her, that car was prey, and she was the hunter. She wasn't backing off.

The chase grew intense, neither side relenting. Caylee pushed her car to match its pace, but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't overtake it.

Her patience began to snap. The hunger for answers about that accident gnawed at her. Narrowing her eyes, she slammed down on the gas, dropped a gear, and closed the distance with a flawless drift.

However, she was seconds away from blocking the Bentley when a cluster of cars swerved in between, cutting her off. By the time she cleared them, the Bentley had already vanished into the horizon. She hit the brakes hard, fury burning through her veins. But then her eyes caught something glinting on the asphalt-it had fallen from the Bentley.

Stepping out, she bent down and picked it up. Yes, it was the same mask from that day of the crash.

Her eyes flew wide, shock crashing through her. No. it couldn't be.

Yet the thought slammed into her like a jolt of lightning.

What if the man who pulled her from the wreckage wasn't Brett at all... but someone else?