My mind raced. If Beth was at the MacLeod estate, there had to be a landline, their number maybe even listed. It was a long shot, but it was all I had. It took another hour of desperate searching online, cross-referencing old society directories and public business listings for anything connected to “Alexander MacLeod Estate, Glasgow,” but finally, I found a number listed for the main residence. My heart hammered against my ribs. This was it.
With a deep breath, I dialed, bracing myself for whatever came next.
The phone rang once, twice, a third time that stretched for an eternity. Then, a click.
“MacLeod residence,” a crisp, female voice answered. It wasn’t Beth.
“Uh, hello,” I stammered, my palms sweating. “May I please speak with Elisabeth MacLeod?”
There was a slight, almost imperceptible pause. “And who may I say is calling?”
“This is Sean McCrae.”
A silence followed and I could almost feel the temperature on the line drop twenty degrees. “This is her mother, Fiona MacLeod,” the voice replied, each syllable an icicle. “Let me guess…you’re the American.”
I swallowed hard. “Yes, ma’am. Mrs. MacLeod. I was hoping to speak with Elisabeth, to apologize?—”
“Mr. McCrae,” Fiona cut me off, her voice like sharpened steel. “Let me be very clear. You are to have no further contact with my daughter. You’ve caused quite enough trouble already.”
“Mrs. MacLeod, please,” I tried again. “I never meant for any of this to happen. If I could just talk to Beth?—”
“You will do no such thing,” Fiona snapped. “Elisabeth is dealing with the consequences of her actions, as I’m sure you are. You are to stay far away from her. Do I make myself clear?”
I felt my shoulders slump in defeat. “Yes, ma’am. I understand.”
“Good. Goodbye, Mr. McCrae. Do not call this number again.”
The line went dead. I blinked at my phone, feeling utterly helpless. How the hell had things spiraled out of control like this?
A thud on the door startled me out of my thoughts. “Sean? Get the door, buddy. My hands are full.”
I stood, shaking off the weight of my discovery, and opened the door. There was Danny, a paper bag in one hand and two steaming cups of coffee in the other. He grinned at me, his usual energy a stark contrast to the pit in my stomach.
“Got breakfast,” he said, stepping into the living room area of our shared hotel suite.
I rubbed the back of my neck, the tension there a solid knot. “Thanks, man.”
Danny set the cups down and pulled out a croissant. He bit into it, his eyes widening with approval. “You gotta try these; they’re amazing.” He paused, studying my face. “Okay, what’s up? You look like you just went twelve rounds with your own conscience and lost.”
I let out a dry, humorless laugh. “Close. I tried to get a hold of Beth. Got intercepted by her mother, Fiona MacLeod, who politely informed me that I’m essentially the antichrist.”
Danny’s chewing slowed. “Fiona MacLeod? As in, the MacLeod family? The ones who own half of Glasgow? Jesus, Sean.”
I flopped down on the couch, running my hands over my face. “I had no idea, Danny. Not a clue who she really was. And now I’ve seen the headlines. The way they’re painting her… it’s a crucifixion.”
Danny sat down next to me, his joking demeanor gone, replaced by the sharp focus of an agent. “Hey, she’s not a child. She made her own choices, too.”
I sat up, shaking my head. “That’s not the point. The point is the double standard. For me, it’s a ‘dashing rogue’ having a fling. For her, she’s a ‘notorious party girl’ preying on the innocent American. It’s a classic character assassination, and I handed them the goddamn knife.”
“I’m not saying it’s fair,” Danny said, his tone turning serious. “I’m saying you have to think about the fallout. From a brand management perspective, this is a contained fire. But you start trying to play white knight, you throw gasoline on it, and our side of the fence burns too. My job is to tell you that the smart play here is strategic silence.”
I stood, too restless to sit. “My entire brand is built on authenticity and integrity, Danny. What does it say if I preach about facing challenges head-on but run and hide the second my own life gets complicated? It makes me a hypocrite.”
“And what exactly do you think you can do?” Danny challenged, standing up to face me. “Her family has you blacklisted. The press is in a feeding frenzy. Any move you make right now will be misinterpreted and weaponized by one side or the other. You’ll make it worse.”
I dug my fingers into the back of my neck, the frustration a physical force. He wasn’t wrong.
Danny’s expression softened slightly. “Look, I get it. You’re a good guy. That’s why people connect with you. But sometimes the most effective move is no move at all. Let the news cycle churn. In a week, they’ll have a new target. You need to focus on damage control for us.”
