A humorless smile curved his lips. "I need you to answer my question, Elena. I don't want to have to extract the information from you."
The clinical way he said "extract" made my skin prickle. This wasn't the same man who'd made me laugh when we broke my dining table, who'd carried me to bed and made me feel things I'd never felt before. Who'd let me touch his scars and shared a moment with me.
I guess that had meant nothing.
"Just tell me the truth," he continued, his voice softening slightly. "I need to know I'm wrong about what I'm thinking."
Tears welled in my eyes, spilling over before I could stop them. I curled tighter into myself, biting my lip to try to keep some composure.
"I think..." I swallowed hard, trying to force the words past the lump in my throat. "I think the Donatis might be bad people. That they did something bad."
Jackson's expression didn't change, but something flickered in his eyes. "Why were you looking into those specific financial records?"
I couldn't lie my way out of this, and in all honesty, I didn't even want to. I'd almost told him everything when he'd asked me about coming to Ironstone. I was tired of pretending, of carrying this weight, of holding it all together.
"It all started because I was looking for my dad," I admitted softly, everything unraveling inside me. "My mom's treatments were putting us in so much debt, I couldn't borrow more. We needed money, and I thought maybe he could help even though it's been so long. That he'd finally step up… I thought he'd have money to save her."
Jackson frowned, his brow furrowing. "What does that have to do with Pristine Solutions? With the Donatis?"
My phone rang again beside me, Ivy's face lighting up the screen. I ignored it, keeping my eyes on Jackson.
"My PI discovered who my father was," I whispered, the words burning my throat on their way out. "Anthony Cassaro."
Recognition dawned on Jackson's face, his eyes widening slightly before his expression shuttered closed again. He pulled out his phone, his thumbs moving rapidly across the screen as he sent a text.
"Why did you really start working at Donati Enterprises?" he asked, slipping the phone back into his pocket.
The dam broke. Sobs tore from my throat as the weight of everything crashed down on me—my mother's cancer, myfather's death, the desperation that had driven me here, and now this, the fear that gripped me as I faced a man who could very well be my executioner.
"I wanted to see who my half-siblings were before I tried to ask them for help," I choked out between sobs. "I knew they wouldn't believe me if I just showed up claiming to be their sister."
Jackson sighed, his eyes closing briefly. When he opened them again, some of the coldness had receded. He reached out, his hand moving toward my knee, and I flinched involuntarily.
He paused, then withdrew his hand. "I need to verify all of this," he said, his voice much more gentle now, tinged with what sounded like relief. "Don't go anywhere."
He reached for my phone, his fingers closing around it before I could protest. "I'll need this."
I watched, helpless, as he left the room with my only connection to the outside world. The click of the bedroom door closing behind him sounded like a prison cell locking shut.
What had I done? In trying to find answers about my father, had I stumbled into something far more dangerous than I could have imagined? And what would happen to me now that Jackson knew the truth?
I pulled the blanket around me, shivering despite the warmth of it. It smelled like him, and I hated that I found that somewhat comforting even now.
The tears continued to fall, silent now, as I waited for whatever came next.
13
JACKSON
Istepped out of Elena's bedroom, her phone gripped in my hand. My mind whirled, trying to process what she'd just told me. Anthony Cassaro's illegitimate daughter. Jesus Christ. This wasn't just some corporate espionage or a rival family plant—this was a fucking family drama that had landed right in my lap.
Although, given the options, it was definitely a preferred one. We could deal with this much easier.
The sound of her crying followed me into the living room, each sob like a knife between my ribs. I'd made her cry. I'd scared her. But I couldn't afford to feel guilty about that right now. This was my job—protecting the family, even from threats they didn't know existed.
But was she even a threat? Would she have planned to do anything with what she'd discovered? Something told me Roman could shed light on the connection between Pristine Solutions and what Elena had told me, although I had a few possibilities in mind.
I dialed Roman's number, pacing the small living room. The broken dining table was right there, taunting me, a starkreminder of what had happened between us less than thirty minutes ago. Before everything went to shit.
