Page 41 of Wishing Stone

I couldn’t be working until seven every night. This schedule would never work if I wanted to ensure Krystina’s mental well-being was the priority. I would need to shift some of the appointments to the following week.

Opening the top drawer of my desk, I rifled around for a highlighter to mark which appointments I would need Laura to move. In my search, I came across a square invitation to the Governors Charity Ball that had somehow gotten shoved to the back of the drawer.

I ran my fingers over the embossed gold lettering and recalled that night more than three years ago. It was an evening for greasing palms and rubbing elbows with the rich and the famous, all under the guise of giving recognition to the underprivileged at thirty-thousand dollars a plate. I had been invited to the dinner because the Andrew Carnegie Medal of Philanthropy was being presented that night, and I was under consideration for the contributions The Stoneworks Foundation had made to the city.

At first, I didn’t want to attend. I never liked that kind of recognition because I’d always felt that others were more deserving. However, Krystina had insisted that I go. I was glad I’d conceded, solely because I was able to watch my new wife work a room.

We had been married for less than a year, and she was still fairly new to black-tie events like the Governors Ball. While she’d been nervous about mingling with celebrities, it didn’t take long for her to settle right in. Before the end of the night, she’d managed to snag over three million dollars in donations to help improve conditions in the neighborhood surrounding Stone’s Hope. Her logic had been that struggling women didn’t want to go into a rundown area to seek help during a time when all they wanted was safety and security for themselves and their children.

The movie stars, politicians, and the press had eaten it up, opening their wallets for a neighborhood revitalization project that New York City hadn’t seen in decades. I couldn’t even recall who ended up receiving the Medal of Philanthropy that night, as Krystina had been the one to steal the show.

After seeing her in action, I’d asked her to oversee the operations at Stone’s Hope. She had wanted to become more involved with the shelter, so saying yes had been an easy decision for her. She loved it, and its success had quickly become a source of pride for her.

However, I was now beginning to wonder if she was juggling too much. My wife never did anything half-fast. She put her heart and soul into everything she did. Perhaps she hadn’t seemed like herself lately simply because she was feeling overworked. If that were the case, I would have to consider stepping in.

I pursed my lips and contemplated what I could do, only to realize the answer was simple. All I had to do was tell Justine to step up. After all, my sister was the Head of Operations at The Stoneworks Foundation, and the shelter fell under that umbrella.

Tossing the Governors Ball invitation aside, I reached for my cell phone. But before I could dial Justine’s number, the conference phone on my desk buzzed.

“Excuse me, Mr. Stone,” my secretary said through the intercom.

“Yes, Laura.”

“Hale is on line one.”

“Put him through, please.”

A moment later, Hale’s voice came through the speaker.

“Boss, sorry to bug you.”

“It’s fine, Hale. What’s up?”

“A few things. First, I just got off the phone with Liz Schiller from Public Relations.”

My jaw clenched. Hale talking to anyone from my PR team was rarely a good thing.

“What did she have to say?” I asked.

“Apparently, Mac Owens has been sniffing around. She’s concerned because of that picture someone snapped of Krystina by the pool a few years ago, and she just wanted to make sure I tightened security on the property.”

My fists tightened at the mention of the reporter fromThe City Times. I’d worked hard to keep my secrets buried—especially from the likes of him. He’d been a thorn in my side for as long as I could remember, but I hadn’t heard his name mentioned in quite a while.

“He’s still around? He’s always been too damn suspicious about everything. Why would he be poking around my business again?”

“It’s about Krystina. There hasn’t been a picture of her in public in nearly two years.”

“So what? We’ve been in a global pandemic.”

“True. But with much of the world back to normal for months now, he wanted to know why Krystina hasn’t been seen out and about.”

“It’s none of his damn business,” I quipped.

“I know that, but you know how the paparazzi love to stalk her. If Mac Owens is questioning her whereabouts, it won’t be long before the rest of the vultures decide to circle. That’s why Liz Schiller called to warn me. But honestly…” Hale paused, and his hesitation was palpable.

“Go on,” I prompted.

I heard his sigh on the other end of the line. “With all due respect, sir, but why hasn’t Krystina been out? She can’t be kept caged forever. At some point—”

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