Page 29 of Confusing Cade
“Okay.” He drew out the word, and I knew he was waiting for me to elaborate.
“Someone hacked me.”
“Hacked you?”
“Yeah.” I sighed. “At least that’s what it looks like... it's... everything is out there. Everything is public.”
“Everything?”
My heart hammered against my ribs, a frantic drumbeat echoing the humiliation churning in my gut. Vulnerability clawed at me. Exposing this to Cade felt like stripping bare all over again, raw and defenseless. I gulped. “What I am saying is, I’m naked all over the internet.”
His reply came fast and firm. “What’s your address? I’m coming over.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CADE
I bolted out of the house, barely registering the door slamming behind me. My keys jangled in my hand as I leaped into the Ferrari, the sleek machine humming to life with a quiet ferocity that matched the urgency thrumming in my chest. I didn’t pause to think or weigh my options. I just yanked the gearshift and peeled out of the garage, tires squealing faintly against the polished concrete.
Whatever is going on, I’m going to help her if I can. If she’ll let me.
The decision sank into my gut, a heavy, unyielding weight. Bella, true to her Moretti blood, was too damn stubborn to ever ask for help from me. She’d probably sooner chew glass. But that didn’t matter. I’d be there. No questions, no hesitation.
The drive blurred past in a haze of palm-lined streets, the opulence of Palm Beach fading as I crossed into a less manicured territory on the west side of the Intracoastal Waterway. When I pulled up to Bella’s apartment complex, the sight hit me like a punch. Cracked asphalt stretched like a scar across the lot, weeds clawing through the fissures. The building itself sagged under years of neglect. Peeling paint curled off the walls like dead skin. Windows were smudged with grime or patched with duct tape. A rusted bike missing a wheel leaned against a dumpster overflowing with trash. The faint tang of mildew hungin the air, seeping through the car’s vents even with the windows up.
I recoiled. Sure, I knew people lived in places like this. Hell, I wasn’t naive. I wasmanythings, but not that. My father’s sprawling real estate empire included plenty of properties that teetered on the edge of habitable. Some of his tenants had whispered “slumlord” behind his back, and I’d overheard enough growing up to know it wasn’t entirely unfair. But knowing it and seeing it up close were two different beasts.
And Palm Beach County was a paradox.
On the one hand, it was a glittering jewel of wealth where multimillion-dollar estates flaunted their manicured lawns and infinity pools, where my own life had unfolded in a bubble of privilege. The town of Palm Beach itself was a postcard of excess, the kind of place that landed centerfold spreads in architectural magazines or lured tourists with its postcard-perfect façades. But beyond the glossy veneer, there were pockets like this. People scraped by, living in homes that looked to be one hurricane away from collapse, and they eked out their lives in apartments that should’ve been razed decades ago. I’d driven past them before, sure, but always at a distance, a fleeting blur outside tinted windows. This time, it was Bella’s reality.
That shook me. The fact that she was tied to this place sent a ripple of disbelief through me, followed by something sharper.Guilt?I shifted in the driver’s seat, the leather creaking under me as I stared at the building. This wasn’t the world I remembered her in. Back when we were kids, her family’s house had been large but also alive. Warm. Now? This crumbling complex was a physical echo of how far she’d fallen, a testament to years of struggle I hadn’t been around to witness. I’d known things had been tough for her, but this made it visceral.
My hands tightened on the steering wheel. Whatever had gone wrong today, it was just the latest hit in a long line of them.And I’d be damned if I let her face this stress alone. Not this time.
I parked my car in the row of open spaces and jogged to the second building, a short row of eight units that were wrapped around a derelict swimming pool and overgrown courtyard. Bella lived in unit 5B. I gave the front door two sharp raps, taking in the peeling paint and splintered wood.
She opened the door wearing a blue sweatshirt and light pink jogging pants, and her hair swept back from her face in a ponytail. She wore no makeup, and her red-rimmed eyes made it obvious she’d been crying. “You didn’t have to come.”
She stepped aside and I barreled into the small living room.
“This isn’t the kind of thing people should have to deal with alone.”
“Thank you.” Bella shoved the door shut with a force that rattled the flimsy frame, then twisted the deadbolt with a sharp click, then the chain lock above it. I stood just inside the threshold, watching as she crossed the room in three quick strides to the small kitchen table, a rickety thing with a chipped glass top and metal legs that wobbled under pressure. She collapsed into one of the mismatched chairs, the metal scraping against the linoleum with a shrill whine. Her elbows hit the table hard, and she dropped her head into her hands, fingers threading into her hair.
