Chapter 1255

Chapter 1255:
Someone was pulling strings behind the scenes, playing with people’s hearts like pieces on a board.
Steven’s jaw tightened as determination flashed through his eyes. “If I don’t get to the bottom of this,” he muttered, “it won’t just destroy them. It’ll destroy everyone connected to it.”
He started the car and drove off, the taillights cutting through the dusk.
As soon as Steven disappeared down the street, Sharon turned sharply to Josie, her voice low and urgent. “Were you about to tell him the truth earlier?”
Josie’s brows knitted together, her voice conflicted. “Yes. I thought… maybe if one more person knew, we’d have a better chance. More people, more possibilities.”
Marc was unpredictable. Dangerous, even.
Josie smoothed her hair with an annoyed jerk and let out a string of words she rarely used. “Damn it. Watching that scumbag put on an act while Stel still sees him as a good man, and William—of all people—hating Stel now? What kind of mess is this?”
Hearing Josie swear felt almost novel to Sharon.
Josie had always been the composed one, the picture of ladylike restraint.
Now she sounded raw, and Sharon could only sigh. “All we can do is stick to the plan,” Sharon said, voice steady. “Try to trigger Stel’s memories gently, without alerting Marc. And hope Steven uncovers the truth soon.”
A few days later, William stood before the floor-to-ceiling windows at Briggs Group, watching the city tumble beneath him. Sunlight poured through the glass but failed to warm him. The chill around him had only grown.
The powers that had stirred while he was gone seemed to have retreated a step after his return.
Howe had not shown his face at Briggs Group headquarters either.
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It was as if those hidden hands dared not move while William was on seat.
And he was in no rush to root them out if they posed no real threat.
Waste of effort. Waste of time.
As for Arlo…
William’s lips curled into something like a smile, though it never reached his eyes. Did Arlo think rescuing him bought control? The funds Arlo wanted were a drop in the ocean for Briggs Group.
He knew the exact implications of Nina’s words.
He kept supplying Arlo because it was useful.
Because in the short game, Arlo needed resources and connections.
In the long game, William needed muscle.
The cooperation was actually mutually beneficial.
On his desk, under the neat chaos of company files, lay a dossier on Stella and Marc—their public outings, their smiles, the small, intimate photographs that meant nothing to the crowd and everything to him.
He stared at a picture of Stella laughing at Marc, and his hand closed on the edge of the paper until his knuckles turned white.
.
.
.