Page 68 of No Longer Mine

That didn’t just happen. You don’t just erase someone’s past. Not unless you had a very good reason.

Not unless you were hiding something big.

I inhaled sharply, leaning back in my chair. “Find me anything—I don’t care how buried it is. I want to know who was at Vanewood. Where the money they had went and why the fuck there’s no record of Scarlett before she became an adult.”

Benson let out a low whistle. “You know, for someone who let her walk away, you sure seem obsessed.”

I pressed my fingers against my temples. “Just do it.”

Scarlett Montrose had walked into my life as a thief. But the more I dug, the more I realized—that was the least interesting thing about her.

I leaned back in my chair, tapping a pen against my desk as I considered my options. Vanewood Manor.

If Benson had hit a dead end, that meant someone, somewhere, wanted it buried.

And if someone wanted it buried, that meant there was something worth finding.

I exhaled through my nose, tossing the pen onto the desk. My schedule was already packed—meetings, hearings, and backdoor negotiations that kept the city running in my favor—but this was different.

This wasn’t about politics. This was about her.

I grabbed my jacket, shrugging into it as I reached for my phone. Benson picked up on the second ring. “Please tell me you’re calling because you want to get drinks and not because you’re about to do something reckless.”

“I’m going to Vanewood.”

Silence.

Then—“You’re a fucking idiot.”

I smirked. “That’s not news.”

Benson sighed. “You do realize the place has been abandoned for years, right? It’s a rotting husk of a building. No electricity, no security—just a shitload of bad history and probably a colony of rats.”

“Then it shouldn’t be hard for me to take a look around,” I said smoothly.

“I swear to God, you have other priorities, Dimitri. You’re running a fucking city and you’re chasing after some girl’s past?”

“She’s not just some girl.”

The words came out before I could stop them, before I could wrap them in the usual layers of cold, detached logic. Benson went quiet again.

When he finally spoke, his voice was different—lower, more serious. “What are you expecting to find?”

“I have no idea, but I need to figure it out. It’s been festering under my skin. If I don’t find anything there, great. But if I do? It might just tip the scales in my favor.”

He groaned into the phone. “At least bring Don with you. I know you’re resourceful, but this is just reckless.”

Don was waiting outside my office. I smiled at him as I hung up on Benson. Benson would be tracking me all the way there and back to make sure I made it out alive. “Are you ready for an adventure?”

Don raised his brows as he grabbed his coat and the keys to the SUV. “I’ve been wanting to get out of this goddamned city all week.”

The drive to Vanewood Manor was a slow and boring one. I thought visiting my parents’ estate in upstate New York was a snooze, this was even worse. The only upside was that it wasn’t as far as my parents’ home. I would be back before dinner.

I drummed my fingers against my knee as Don drove, the hum of the SUV the only sound between us. He hadn’t asked any questions—not yet. But I could feel his curiosity simmering, the occasional glance in the rearview mirror, the way his grip tightened on the wheel.

Finally, he sighed. “Alright. What’s the deal?”

I smirked, leaning my head back against the seat. “No deal. Just checking out a piece of history.”

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