Chapter 225: Breaking News

Dorian stepped inside and closed the door behind him.

"Since you remarried, you have been arriving at work later and later." His mouth curved slightly. "Am I sensing bliss in your marriage?"

"I found out last night that my assistant has been feeding Camille information," Dorian said.

Alistair’s expression barely changed. "Tragic. Can never find anyone trustworthy anymore, can you?" he said dryly. Then, as though the subject interested him only mildly, he leaned back in his chair. "Which brings me to the question: Why did you fire Adrian?"

Dorian ignored that. "I am right now going to interrogate both her and the receptionist."

"Why the receptionist? She barely ever steps foot on this floor."

"Because she is in charge of logging applicants."

Alistair frowned. "Still don’t follow."

Dorian walked farther into the office. "I remember when I held the interviews. It was absolutely frustrating. Every candidate was totally fucked up. Clueless, incompetent, underqualified, disorganised, painfully unimpressive." He listed several more choice adjectives, each one delivered with increasing irritation.

Alistair gave a small shrug. "Gen Z, huh? What can you do?"

"Someone made sure I got the bottom of the barrel so I would have no choice but to pick the one person who seemed efficient."

Now Alistair was paying attention.

Dorian remembered it too clearly. Mara hadn’t merely stood out because she was good. She had stood out because everyone around her had been so spectacularly bad that choosing her had felt inevitable.

At the time, he had blamed the applicant pool. Now he was wondering whether there had ever been a real applicant pool at all.

"Are you accusing me of something, Dorian?" Alistair asked.

"Yes." Dorian’s voice stayed level, which made the threat underneath it land harder. "And when I find out you had my assistant planted, and that you had her forwarding sensitive information about the firm to Camille, you are finished in this firm."

Alistair’s face hardened. "I did no such thing."

"And why should I believe you? Give me one reason why." Dorian moved closer to the desk. "You did the same thing years ago with Raphael."

"I did not plant Raphael in the firm."

"No, you didn’t," Dorian said. "But you knew he was feeding information to Tom Kane. You allowed it because you wanted to see my father crash and burn."

"Listen to me!" Alistair snapped, pushing back from his desk. "Your father and I have been playing a game of cat and mouse for years. Heathcliffe & Associates belongs to both of us, not just one. I have every right to be here, and you have no right to speak to me in such a manner. For one, I am your uncle!"

"My uncle..." Dorian chuckled. "What kind of uncle breaks his nephew’s heart?"

Alistair’s expression crumpled slightly. "Dorian..."

"What kind of uncle sleeps with his nephew’s wife?" Dorian moved closer, every word sharpened by years of resentment. "What kind of uncle stabs his nephew in the back. You deserve no respect just because we share blood?"

"Dorian—"

"And let me ask you this. Were you fucking Camille while we were married too?"

Alistair shut his eyes in frustration, pressing his lips together before opening them again. "I have said this repeatedly, Dorian. I have done a lot of questionable things. Things that I justify, yes. But I have never hurt you like that."

Dorian smiled. "Yeah, right. Keep telling yourself that." He stepped back, having no intention of standing there debating morality with a man who had spent years rewriting his own betrayals. "As I said, once I find proof..." His gaze stayed locked on Alistair’s. "You’re finished." He turned and walked away.

Dorian left the office and headed down the hall, his anger still simmering but already becoming useful again. He had said what he needed to say.

Now he needed facts. Something solid enough that Alistair couldn’t maneuver his way around it.

Dorian made his way to the conference room where the receptionist and Mara were being held.

"Mr Heathcliffe? What is going on?" Mara asked.

Dorian ignored her. He turned instead to the receptionist. "How many candidates submitted résumés to apply as my personal assistant?"

The receptionist looked between him and Mara, clearly trying to understand what she had walked into. "About thirty, sir, but I’d have to check my records."

"How many did you get back to for the interview?"

Her face changed. "Uh... uh..."

Dorian’s patience evaporated. "Think fast."

She swallowed. "Uhm... I think twelve."

"Why?"

"Those were the approved ones, sir."

"Approved by who?"

"Mr Heathcliffe. I mean... Mr Alistair Heathcliffe."

There it was. Not proof of everything, but enough to confirm that his instincts had not been wrong.

Alistair had inserted himself into the hiring process.

Dorian nodded once. "Thank you. You may go downstairs, pick up your stuff and come back up here. You will be my assistant until further notice."

Her mouth dropped open. "Sir?!"

"Go."

She stood very quickly. "Yes, sir!"

Dorian watched her hurry out of the conference room.

The door closed. Silence settled over the room.

Dorian turned slowly.

Mara was watching him now with a look that had lost every trace of composure.

He reached into his pocket, pulled out the flash drive and placed it on the table between them.

Mara’s eyes dropped to it.

He leaned forward, both hands resting on the table. "You’re going to start talking, and you’re going to start talking now. Or I will make sure your entire life is tied to this one point in time. No firm or company will touch you." Dorian tapped one finger against the flash drive. "I will sue your ass to thy kingdom come. You will be paying me for the rest of your miserable life."

Mara looked terrified.

Whatever loyalty she had possessed to whoever had placed her there clearly did not extend far enough to survive Dorian Heathcliffe threatening to turn her entire future into a legal repayment plan.

He didn’t need to ask again.

With no further prompting, Mara began talking.

*****

Dorian made his way to his parents’ house armed with the information he had gotten out of Mara.

It wasn’t much. Not nearly enough for what he ultimately wanted to do to Alistair, but it was something. For the first time, he had a trail that led directly back to his uncle, and Dorian intended to follow it until there was nowhere left for the man to hide.

He walked into his parents’ house expecting to find Maurice in his study or perhaps Eleanor somewhere around the house.

Instead, he found both of them planted in front of the television. Then he saw what was on the screen.

A news broadcast was running live, his photograph displayed prominently beside one of Naomi.

The headline underneath made the blood drain from his face.

SERIAL HUSBAND DORIAN HEATHCLIFFE PAYS FOURTH WIFE TO STAY MARRIED FOR SIX MONTHS AFTER REQUESTING DIVORCE.