Billionaire's Secret (Carver Family)

by Lyz Kelley

  Haley pulled a camera memory card out of her pocket. “Got the pics.”

  “How much did it cost us?” he asked.

  “You don’t want to know, boss.”

  Weston nodded. “Right. Let’s get backstage before anyone else sees us and asks what happened.”

  “Weston Carver?”

  Three men in suits walked his way. None of them looked friendly, and all of them were built like linebackers.

  Now what? He took a deep breath and squared his shoulders. “Hey guys, the incident with Mr. Doherty was all a big misunderstanding.”

  “Mr. Carver, I’m Special Agent Don Rodriguez. You are under arrest for sex trafficking, forced labor, and money laundering.”

  The shock of the statement numbed him all the way to his toes. “Sex trafficking. You’re kidding me, right?”

  “No, sir.” The man to the left of Rodriguez grabbed his arm and jerked him around. Cold metal clamped around his wrist.

  “Gentleman. There must be some kind of mix-up.”

  “Weston?” Courtney shoved her way through the gathering crowd while camera flashes went off all around them. “What’s going on?” Her attention locked onto the handcuffs around his wrists. “No!” She turned and grabbed Rodriguez’s arm. “It wasn’t his fault. I’m the one who spilled the drink.”

  “You need to stand back, ma’am.” Rodriguez spoke in cool, even tones while he held out an arm, pushing her back. “This is not about a drink, ma’am, Mr. Carver is being arrested for sex trafficking.”

  Courtney stared at him. “Sex trafficking?” Her hand pressed against her breastbone. “What? Why?”

  “He’s been accused of locking a woman in his home and forcing her to be his sex slave.”

  “Did Angel tell you that?” Weston gritted out.

  “Angel. Who’s Angel?” Courtney asked.

  “Stay out of this, Courtney.” Weston jerked his arms away from the arresting agent. “None of what they’re saying is true.”

  Courtney had already pulled away.

  The explosion of truth permeated his heart and mind.

  She trusted the agent’s word over his.

  He didn’t need to be tried. In her eyes he was already guilty.

  He glared at Rodriguez. “I’d like to call my attorney.”

  “Understood,” Rodriguez nodded. “You have the right to remain silent…”

  Weston didn’t hear the remaining Miranda rights. All he saw was the fear and doubt splashed across Courtney’s face, her feet inching her back and away from him. Linda and Haley stood solid, resolute in their belief in his innocence.

  He had assumed Courtney was tougher, more resilient.

  He convinced himself he’d shown her the difference between a grown man and a boy. He wasn’t just a guy out to hook up with girls who were hot, wild, and exciting. He wanted an intelligent, supportive, and grounded woman—one with similar values. In her mind, he was just another wealthy bastard who abused women.

  He turned to Mike, who’d forced his way to Weston’s side. “Tell Liam, my dad, and the lawyers what’s happened. Tell them to meet me at the Federal Courthouse. We need to get this straightened out once and for all.”

  “Are you and Liam in this together?” Courtney’s tone had turned cold. “Is that why you need Liam at the courthouse, so you can coordinate your stories?” Her disgust rang out loud and clear.

  “There is nothing to corroborate. Neither one of us is guilty.” Weston’s jaw tightened. “This isn’t the time to discuss it, Courtney,” he ground out, letting his frustration turn his words hard, his expression to stone.

  “There is no perfect time to discuss sex trafficking, sexual abuse, or harassment. But we should at least start a conversation—don’t you think? Isn’t that why we’re here? To stop people in power from hurting others?”

  Powerful people like me, you mean. If Rodriguez hadn’t been standing next to him, and if he hadn’t already read him his rights, he’d tell Courtney exactly what he thought of her and her abandonment, but he couldn’t say one damn word.

  Not even in his own defense. Not yet. But he would, and when he did, the entire world would know what had happened. Someone was trying to take down the Carvers, but they had just awakened the sleeping dragon.

  Justice would be served. His life depended upon it.

  “Take care, Courtney.” He took a step toward the door. “Agent Rodriguez, let’s get this over with. I need to speak with my lawyer. Someone has set me up, and I want a name.”

  Chapter 24

  “How am I supposed to get up in front of all those people and give a speech to support Empower House when the man running the business has just been arrested for the very thing I’m fighting against?” Courtney took off her high heels and flopped into a conference room chair.

  “Honey,” Valerie pulled out the nearest chair and met her, eye to eye. “Regardless of what happened, you need to get up on that stage and give your speech. There are women all over Manhattan counting on you.”

  “I can’t even remember what I was going to say.” She held her face in her hands. “How could I have been so blind? I envisioned myself older, wiser… How could I have let this happen? There is no way I can support this sham.”

  “You need to stop right there. Neither of us has all the information. As far as I’m concerned, Weston is innocent until proven guilty. Plus, you can’t possibly believe Empower House is a sham. Hundreds of women walk through those shelter doors every month. You’re just looking for an excuse not to do that speech.” Valerie’s pursed lips and her squinted-eye glare conveyed severe disappointment.

  Courtney had rarely experienced that kind of stern disapproval from her friend, and when she had, the coldness was never directed at her. “I’m not looking for an excuse. I won’t work for a man who abuses women. It goes against every principle I believe in.”

  “What are you going to do now? Huh? Crawl back to Jersey? Live with your dad?”

  The swelling anger in reaction to Valerie’s questions was winding up for a volcanic blast, but her friend waved her off. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that thing about your dad. But I am worried. You came to Manhattan to make an impact. Tonight you can make a difference in thousands of people’s lives, yet you decide to quit before you have even a few of the facts, much less all of them. Baby, since when do you do easy?”

  Courtney tugged at a loose thread on her dress, and conjured a vision of both her dress and her life unraveling. “I never do easy. I’ve always done the hard stuff. My job, my business, where I live, everything is on the line tonight.” She swung her arm toward the conference room. “I put all my hopes and dreams into tonight. Not only for me, but for all the other women out there.”

  “And if you don’t help raise money tonight there will be more suffering. What’s going to happen to the hundreds of women and children in the shelters? Are you giving up on them? What’s going to happen to those on the streets or those who are being abused right now, who don’t have anywhere to go? Where will they stay? Who will help?”

  She picked at the skin on her thumb. “I don’t know. Okay? Just give me a moment.” She bowed her head. “I need to figure out what to do next.”

  “What’s the downside of speaking tonight?” Valerie pushed.

  Courtney shifted on her chair, trying to ease the misery in her gut. “This event is being recorded. I will forever be tied to Empower House.”

  “Yes, but very few people are aware that Empower House is run by Weston.”

  “True,” She slumped against the chair back. “This is all so surreal. I can’t believe the man I love was arrested for sex trafficking. That type of abuse is everything I’ve been fighting against.”

  “You fell in love hard, baby.” Valerie’s voice softened enough to make Courtney glance up. Valerie took her hand. “Just because he was arrested doesn’t mean he’s guilty.”

  “Are you kidding me?” She stared at Valerie, wondering if the older woman hadn’t sudd
enly gone senile. “The FBI doesn’t arrest people without having proper evidence.”

  “Yes, but sometimes people have a limited set of facts and draw the wrong conclusion. People make mistakes, hon.”

  Her gaze snapped to Valerie. “Yeah, like me. I should never have trusted the man.” Tears welled in her eyes, and she blinked to force the sting to subside. She would not cry. No, she wouldn’t. Never again. She promised.

  “Courtney, baby,” Valerie pulled a tissue from her purse and pressed it into her hand. “I’ve known you for a long time. Remember the first day you walked through my door? When you came to volunteer at the shelter?”

  She dabbed at the corners of her eyes, trying to avoid smearing her makeup. “When I graduated from college I was convinced I would change the world.”

  “And do you remember what I said?”

  She choked out a laugh. “You said, ‘baby, you sure do have a lot to learn about life.’”

  Valerie patted her knee. “See? I was right. And I’m right about you getting up on that stage tonight. If you don’t give your speech, I fear you will deeply, deeply regret your decision.”

  Courtney’s thoughts turned inward and took a hard turn toward self-loathing, but years of counseling shut the door on the negative, self-abusive thoughts. “I’m sure you’re right. You’ve been right about many things, but not about Weston Carver.”

  But even as she said it, something told her Valerie had the better read on the situation, and she, Courtney, had it all wrong.

  The backstage waiting room door opened and Linda poked her head in. “Well?”

  “She’ll be right there.” Valerie’s bold optimism made Courtney squirm.

  “Valerie!” Courtney turned to glance over her shoulder, but Linda was gone. “I’m going to need several minutes to calm down and remember what I was going to say. I can’t even remember the first line of my speech.”

  “Baby, don’t you worry. I’ll be sitting right there in the front row. More than ever, you need to tell your story. Talk to me, baby. No one else. It’ll just be you and me out there. Tonight you’ll be the voice for all those women who think they don’t have one. You’ll be strong and brave. You can do this—for them, and for you.”

  Be the voice. The truth in Valerie’s mantra ignited a tiny spark, but the flame spread. She fisted her trembling hand and forced out the fear-filled air in her lungs. Be the voice.

  She leaned over to pick up one of her shoes and eased her swollen toes into the sandal. “Why do I always let you talk me into these things?”

  “That’s my baby.” Valerie picked up her phone and dialed.

  “Who are you calling?” Courtney asked while buckling her heel strap.

  Valerie held up a finger. “Send them in.” The door behind her opened and the makeup artist and stylist she’d worked with earlier in the day came rushing in. “We only have a couple of minutes,” Valerie told them, “so do your best.”

  As Valerie backed away hands holding makeup brushes and hairspray cans descended. Three minutes later Courtney was being rushed to the stage to see Linda at the podium.

  Mike and Haley fell into step behind the group.

  Courtney looked behind Weston’s security team. Maybe his arrest was all a joke. “Where’s Weston?”

  Mike’s once-friendly gaze had turned cold. “He ordered us to make sure you stay safe.”

  “But—”

  “And without further delay, I would like to welcome Courtney Kramer to the stage.” Linda beckoned her from behind the podium.

  Courtney gulped back the fear as her legs began to wobble. The buzzing in her ears muted the audience’s applause. Haley nudged her in the back. The push sent Courtney stumbling forward.

  She didn’t dare look back. She searched the audience for Valerie, and found her right in front of the stage. Be the voice. She repeated. Be the voice for them.

  “Thank you, Linda,” She glanced at the pre-written speech waiting on the wooden stand with a microphone in front of her. Tell your story, Weston’s impassioned words came back to her. Make them listen.

  She adjusted the electronics and connected with Valerie’s smiling face. “Thank you, everyone. Thank you.” The noise in the room quieted. “I prepared a speech for tonight, but I’m so nervous I’ve forgotten what I was going to say.”

  The crowd laughed, but she wished she hadn’t been joking. She grabbed onto the podium with both hands and willed her knees to lock. She stared into the stage lights to blind her from seeing the audience and called upon every ounce of strength she possessed.

  “In college”—she swallowed the fear-induced saliva—“I fell in love like every other college girl. He was older, more sophisticated, handsome, and well liked.”

  Keep going. Be the voice. You can do this.

  “And his popularity might have been the reason he threw a party, drugged me, and invited all his friends over to rape me while I was unconscious. The next morning I woke up alone in a room that smelled like alcohol and pizza. I didn’t have a clue where I was or what had happened to me.”

  She shifted and drove her fingernails into the palms of her hands to feel the sting. Keep focused. Be the voice.

  “After I found something to wear, I limped back to my dorm room. I was ashamed. Broken. Like what happened was my fault. I was the one who went to my boyfriend’s room. I was the one who stayed when the impromptu party started.”

  She gazed out over the silent crowd and dropped her hands to her sides. The exhaustion eased in. She was alone. Emotionally naked. Her eyes sought Valerie.

  Her friend mouthed, be the voice.

  She again faced forward, her chin level with the floor. “I didn’t tell anyone what happened. Who would have believed me?”

  Strength soaked her—body, mind, and then voice.

  “He came from a prominent, wealthy family. I came from a middle-class, single-parent family. I buried my hurt deep and did my best to ignore it.”

  She took a deep, bold breath.

  “My story is not unique. Nor is it rare.”

  She gripped the podium even harder and shifted her feet.

  “Every day, women and men across the globe find themselves in situations where they feel powerless. They feel they have no options. They feel broken. That is why we are here tonight. We can give back the power to live to those who feel broken. All it takes is a few dollars a day to provide a safe home where those who have been hurt can heal. Thrive. So please, open your hearts. Help those who have been hurt, heal. Thank you.”

  She turned to run off the stage, but Linda was there to catch her. “Bravo,” she whispered. “Look.”

  The overhead lights dimmed and finally, she could see the crowd. Everyone was on their feet. Everyone was standing for her.

  Heat rose up her cheeks. She touched her face and tears wet her fingers. “Thank you,” she said.

  For the first time since college she didn’t feel like she was serving a life sentence. The links to her past were severed. A rush of freedom filled every crevice with confidence.

  She felt empowered.

  Empowered, huh? Empower House.

  Why had Weston named his organization Empower House? Wait a minute. He’d said something about taking over the organization.

  The picture of his family and the person standing next to Weston slammed into her conscious.

  Only someone who was a victim or a close friend or family member of a victim would understand the feeling of worthlessness—of feeling less than.

  His sister must have set up the shelters, and Weston had taken control of the business. But why?

  Was he running the company out of a sense of guilt? Yet if Weston understood about being a victim, he’d never hurt someone else. Ever.

  The facts started stacking up, one on top of another, and another, and another. He said he was innocent.

  Maybe he was...

  But how could she be certain? An ache of regret pressed against her lungs.

  She didn�
�t have to be certain. All she needed to do was offer empathy and support.

  She told her family the truth, and neither her father nor her brothers believed her. The jagged wound had never healed. The festering hurt was the reason she’d resolved to never doubt others’ words, to accept each person at face value.

  And what had she just done?

  All this time, she should have been listening. Helping. Letting Weston know she was on his side. Just because he was rich didn’t mean he didn’t deserve her reassurances, her support, her belief in him.

  His friends believe in his innocence. Why didn’t I?

  Fear, came the answer.

  An ingrained instinct to flee from high-powered men.

  A shock wave of realization exploded a load of determination up her spine.

  She needed to talk to Weston, and to do that she needed to go to him.

  “Linda?” She whispered. “I need to find Weston.”

  “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.” Linda tightened her arms around her portfolio, using the binder as a shield. “You accused him of being a sex-trafficker in front of all those reporters and celebrities and other donors.”

  “Yes. I jumped to a conclusion, and I’m ashamed of the way I acted.” Her determination increased with each passing second. “I need to talk to him.”

  “Talking to him may be difficult.” Linda looked toward Mike and Haley, who were standing twenty feet away. “He asked me to support you this evening, but I’m not sure that’s what he had in mind.”

  “I need to tell him I trust him,” the statement surprised her, but her gut agreed with the move. “That I will be there for him.” She reached to connect. “Linda, please, I need to fix this.”

  “Don’t you dare hurt him. It might surprise you to learn he loves you.”

  “He loves me?” she asked, but already knew the answer. Of course he loved her. He showed her every day, in the ways that counted. “No, don’t answer that. There’s no time. I need to find him.”

  “Go. I’ve got this.” She stepped back with a genuine smile.

  “Thanks, Linda.” Courtney rushed toward the stage exit, past Haley and Mike.