Chapter 4: Old Flames, New Fears

"You want me to deal with him?" Derek asked lightly. "Aubrey, what about your husband? Is he dead?"

My mind went blank for a moment.

A flush crept up my neck. I swallowed, embarrassed, suddenly wishing I could take back the whole conversation.

I answered awkwardly, "He... he’s just an ordinary guy like me, nothing special."

A cold laugh came from the other end, mocking.

Derek’s laughter always had an edge—soft, but with a bite. I could almost see his crooked smile, the way his eyes would narrow when he felt superior.

No matter how much Carter flaunted his power, he was just a trust-fund brat from a small city. At this level, he couldn’t even get into Derek’s circle.

Chicago money is old and impenetrable. Derek was born into it, the sort of family that ran galas for charity and owned art that never left the vault. Carter, with all his swagger, was a minor league player compared to Derek’s world.

Derek was third-generation Chicago, with an impeccable background. He lacked neither power nor wealth; to many, even big shots were like ants before him.

Sometimes I wondered what I ever meant to him, or if I was just another trophy in his long, glittering collection.

I bit my lip, about to say something.

A gentle woman’s voice came through the phone: "Derek, who are you talking to?"

I froze. Even after all this time, the sound of a new woman’s voice on Derek’s line stung more than I’d admit.

Derek lied without missing a beat: "A business partner."

The woman clearly didn’t believe him, her tone a bit sharp: "Let me see..."

I could imagine her standing in his kitchen—maybe a coffee mug in hand, beautiful in that easy, untouchable way.

"Don’t start."

He scolded softly, with an indulgence I couldn’t describe.

There was that old, coaxing tone—gentle, but with a hint of warning. I recognized it, the same way he’d spoken to me years ago when I’d pressed too hard.

I hurriedly hung up, my hands and feet cold.

My fingers shook so hard I nearly dropped the phone. Regret prickled at me. I felt like I’d stepped into a pool I had no business wading in anymore.