Page 37 of Billionaire Wolf Needs a Pilot
Double doors at the end of the east wing stood partially open, revealing what could only be his father’s study.I hesitated, aware I was crossing into private territory, but something pulled me forward.
The study was frozen in time.A leather desk chair sat at an angle, as if its occupant had just stepped away momentarily.A jacket hung over a coat rack in the corner.I could almost feel the ghost of Tanner’s father lingering in this space, watching me with suspicious eyes.
A wall of filing cabinets dominated one side of the room.Most were locked, but one drawer had been left partially open.Inside, I found folders labeled with dates and the Roberts Mining logo.Something about their haphazard organization suggested they’d been accessed in a hurry.
I pulled out a stack and spread them across the desk.Financial reports, environmental assessments, correspondence with someone who signed their name V.It didn’t take a genius to figure out who that was.Victoria Song.
My heart raced as I skimmed the letters.Victoria’s elegant handwriting covered margins of official reports, suggesting alterations to mining practices that would increase profits while minimizing regulatory obstacles.
They’d known and they’d deliberately chosen money over safety, calculating that the poison could be dispersed across the countryside without immediate consequences.
But as I read further, a pattern emerged.Victoria’s suggestions grew bolder, more reckless over time.Tanner’s father’s responses showed increasing reluctance, then capitulation.Their relationship had shifted from business partners to something more manipulative.Victoria was using the elder Roberts’s weaknesses against him.
“What are you doing?”
I jumped at Tanner’s voice from the doorway.He stood shirtless, wearing only pajama bottoms, his expression dark with disapproval.
“I’m sorry,” I said quickly, straightening.“I was exploring and found—”
“My father’s private papers.”His jaw tightened as he approached the desk.“This room is off-limits.”
“Tanner, look.”I pushed one of the documents toward him.I remained calm as he approached, understanding his territorial reaction.“Look at these exchanges between your father and Victoria Song.This wasn’t just a business partnership.”
Tanner’s anger faltered as his eyes scanned the documents.He picked up one letter, then another, his breathing growing heavier with each page he examined.
“She was using him,” he finally said, sinking into his father’s chair as if his legs had given out.“Manipulating him, playing to his greed, then pushing him further than even he wanted to go.”His fingers traced his father’s handwritten concerns about containment.“In the end, the cancer stripped him of his strength and mental capabilities.He knew it was wrong, but she convinced him to proceed anyway.”
I gathered the courage to place my hand on his shoulder.“The poison in the water was her idea, Tanner.Your father was weak, but she was calculating.”
He didn’t shake off my touch as I’d feared.Instead, he covered my hand with his, our bond thrumming with shared understanding.
“I hated him for so long,” Tanner whispered.“I thought he was just a monster who cared about nothing but profit.But this…” He gestured at the evidence spread before us.“This is something darker.Victoria was the architect.”
I squeezed his shoulder.“Which means you can fix this without betraying his memory.You can redeem the Roberts name.”
His eyes met mine, something vulnerable flickering behind the strength.“Thank you for finding this.”
An hour later, we sat at the kitchen island with steaming mugs of coffee between us.Daryl had stocked the refrigerator but otherwise left us to our privacy, sensing our need for space to process everything.
“The cleanup operation alone will cost millions,” Tanner explained while he scrolled through preliminary estimates on his laptop.“Add the medical fund for affected residents, the business restructuring, the environmental remediation…” He ran a hand through his hair.“I could bankrupt myself easily.”
I studied the figures over his shoulder.“You need to approach this strategically.Set up a transparent trust fund for the victims.Make it clear exactly how much is being allocated and for what purposes.That builds community trust.”
Tanner looked at me with surprise.“Go on.”
“Create a publicity campaign that acknowledges the harm done but focuses on the future.Identify corporate allies who might support sustainable mining practices.Companies looking to improve their own environmental image would jump at the partnership opportunity.”
His lips curved into a smile.“I didn’t realize pilots were also crisis management experts.”
“Flying teaches you to anticipate problems before they arise,” I explained, feeling a flutter of pride at his admiration.“I’m constantly scanning for potential issues, developing backup plans, and staying three steps ahead of any emergency.”
“Just like you knew exactly what to do when we crashed.”He reached across the counter to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, the casual intimacy making my heart race.“My brilliant mate.”
The possessive pride in his voice sent warmth spreading through me.Our bond pulsed with it, this mutual appreciation that felt so different from the desperate survival connection we’d formed in the wilderness.
My eyes drifted to the clock on the microwave, and my stomach dropped.“It’s Saturday,” I said, my voice suddenly tight.
Tanner’s expression changed immediately, sensing my shift in mood.“What happens on Saturdays?”
