Page 10 of Falling for the Grump Billionaire

I sigh, closing my notebook. “Fine. Let me ask you one last question, then.”

He raises an eyebrow.

“Why did you agree to meet me?”

For the first time, Caldwell smiles—a bitter, humorless twist of his lips. “Because someone needs to take Kane down a notch. And maybe you’re the one crazy enough to do it.”

The air feels heavier when I step outside. The street is quiet, the hum of distant traffic the only sound. I slip my notebook into my bag, my mind churning with Caldwell’s cryptic warnings.

He’s holding something back—probably out of fear. And I can’t blame him. If even half of what he said is true, I’ve stumbled into the middle of a very dangerous game.

I pull my phone from my pocket, intending to jot down notes while the conversation is fresh. But as I unlock the screen, a prickle of awareness creeps up my neck.

I stop walking, my grip tightening on the phone. The feeling is subtle but unmistakable—the sense of being watched.

I glance over my shoulder, scanning the dimly lit street. A man stands near the corner, half-hidden in shadows. He’s wearing a dark hoodie, the hood pulled low over his face.

For a moment, we’re locked in a silent standoff. Then he turns and disappears around the corner, his shadow melting into the night.

My pulse pounds as I stand frozen on the sidewalk. Was he watching me? Or just some random guy out for a late-night walk?

The unease curling in my stomach feels more like instinct than overreaction. I shake it off and keep moving, my steps quick and purposeful.

By the time I reach my building, my nerves are frayed. The apartment, usually a sanctuary, feels like a joke when I can’t shake the sense of danger pressing closer. I bolt the door behind me and drop my bag onto the counter.

I flip open my notebook, scanning the notes I scribbled during the meeting:“Kane Enterprises has enemies on both sides of the law. People who get too close to the truth tend to disappear.”

The words feel heavier now, loaded with implication. Caldwell’s warnings echo in my mind, louder than before.

My phone buzzes on the counter, and I grab it instinctively. The number is blocked.

The message is short, but the weight of it punches through me:

“You were warned, Ms. Stone. Walk away, or the next message won’t be so polite.”

I stare at it, my breath catching in my throat. The glowing screen feels like a taunt.

Without hesitation, I take a screenshot. Deleting the message might feel safer, but I’ve learned better than to erase evidence.

This isn’t intimidation anymore. It’s a threat.

The apartment feels too quiet, the shadows too deep. I flood the room with soft light, but it barely scratches the surface of my unease.

Pacing the small living room, I replay Caldwell’s words:“Kane Enterprises isn’t just a company—it’s a fortress.”

The logical thing to do would be to walk away. Let this story go before it pulls me under.

But that isn’t who I am.

I grab my laptop, pulling up every file I’ve saved. The pattern of leaks, sabotage, and cover-ups points to a calculated attack on Kane Enterprises. But the bigger question remains: Who’s behind it, and why?

Dominic Kane’s warning echoes in my mind:“Don’t dig where you don’t belong.”

Too late for that.

As dawn breaks, I sit on the couch, exhaustion tugging at me, but the fire in my chest keeps me awake. I’m not walking away. Not now. Not ever.

If Dominic Kane is the key to this story, I’ll find him. And I’ll get the answers—no matter what it costs.

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