Page 117 of Hate To Love You

One more number pops into my head.

With shaky fingers, I enter the numbers two, zero, zero, one. The year he graduated from Ellington. After a few tense moments, the safe opens and I let out a sigh of relief.

Reaching inside, I pull out several folders, neatly labeled and organized. My father’s neat handwriting marks each one. ‘Financial Reports,’ ‘Client Contracts,’ ‘Legal Matters.’ But one folder catches my eye. ‘Confidential.’

I sift through the papers inside, all filled with legal terms and financial shit. As I continue the flip through, I find exactly what I’m looking for. There are records of tons of off-the-books transactions, shell companies, and payments to people whose names I recognize from the Elite, including Pat, Holland, and Mason’s fathers.

Holy fucking shit.

This is what I need. Pulling my phone out, I snap a picture of the files, making sure they’re clear enough to read. Then, I shove the papers back in the folder and place them all back in the safe, shutting and locking it.

I need to come up with a plan. I don’t know if I should tell Logan yet, but Pat might know what to do. The guys should know their fathers are involved in this shit. This is even bigger than I thought.

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As I lay in bed staring at the ceiling, my mind runs over everything I found in the folder. I knew my father was into some shady shit, but I didn’t think it was this bad. My father, the CEO of The Steele Corporation, has been involved in illegal shit for years. Embezzlement, bribery, fraud.

I bring up the group chat and send them a text.

The Elite Four

Me

Shit’s about to hit the fan.

Patrick Samuelson

What?

Mason Howard

Hope you don’t mean that

literally.

Holland Monroe

I’m fully convinced we are

not related.

Mason Howard

Fuck off.

Holland Monroe

What’s going on, Steele?

Me

Sent an image.

This.

Holland Monroe

Shit.

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