Page 53 of Falling for the Grump Billionaire

And then I see it.

A cluster of payments funneling into a single account under the guise of “consulting fees.” The amounts are consistent, and the recipient is a name I don’t recognize:Falcon Consulting.

My heart pounds. “Falcon.”

Dominic’s voice echoes in my head:“Whoever Falcon is, they’re not afraid to get their hands dirty.”

I dive deeper, pulling every thread I can find. The payments don’t lead directly to Mercer—of course, they wouldn’t. But they loop back into Aurora International Holdings. Mercer’s fingerprints are all over this, even if he’s not the mastermind.

Before I can analyze further, Dominic’s office door opens. His presence fills the room as he strides toward me, his expression grim.

“What did you find?” he asks, his voice low and controlled.

I turn the laptop toward him, pointing to the screen. “Look at this. Falcon Consulting. The payments tie back to Aurora.”

Dominic leans over, his sharp eyes scanning the data. His jaw tightens, the muscles ticking in silent anger. “That name again. Adrian flagged it weeks ago, but we couldn’t connect it to anyone specific.”

“Well, now we can,” I say, my voice firm. “This is our link to Mercer—and whoever’s above him.”

Dominic straightens, his posture rigid. “If Falcon’s tied to Aurora, then we’re dealing with something bigger than we thought. This isn’t just about sabotaging Kane Enterprises. It’s about dismantling it piece by piece.”

A Call in the Dark

The unease in the room deepens as Dominic grabs his phone, dialing Adrian. I listen as he relays the discovery, his voice clipped and efficient.

“We need to know who’s behind Falcon Consulting,” Dominic says. “Dig into their records, their clients—anything that gives us a name.”

Adrian’s response is faint through the receiver, but I catch enough to know he’s already on it.

Dominic hangs up and turns to me. “Adrian will follow the trail. In the meantime, we need to assume Falcon knows we’re closing in.”

“Assume or confirm?” I ask, my stomach twisting.

“Assume,” Dominic says, his tone hard. “And prepare for the worst.”

The words hit like a warning bell. The stakes are rising, and the noose around us is tightening.

Late-Night Tensions

The clock ticks past midnight, the air in the penthouse heavy with tension. Dominic works quietly at the kitchen island, reviewing documents on his tablet, while I sit nearby, scrolling through files on my laptop.

I steal a glance at him, his focus unrelenting. For all his arrogance and control, there’s a vulnerability in his determination that I’ve never seen before. He’s fighting for more than just his company—he’s fighting for the identity he built brick by brick.

“You should get some rest,” he says suddenly, not looking up.

I blink, startled. “So should you.”

He doesn’t respond, his attention still fixed on the screen.

“I’m serious,” I say, closing my laptop. “You can’t fight this war on caffeine and sheer willpower alone.”

His lips twitch in what might be the ghost of a smile, but it’s fleeting. “I’ve done it before.”

“That doesn’t mean you should,” I counter.

He finally looks at me, his blue eyes shadowed with exhaustion. “Eva, the people coming for us aren’t going to stop. If I don’t keep moving, we lose.”

I shake my head, exasperated. “And what happens if you burn out? What good are you then?”

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