Page 28 of Alessia
I nod, ignoring the way my stomach twists at her words. I knew this wouldn’t be easy, but hearing it still stings.
“You can take the spare room,” I offer, keeping my voice steady.
Harper studies me like she’s expecting me to argue, but when I don’t, she gives a small nod. “Alright.”
She shifts her weight, like she’s debating whether or not to say something else. Then she adds, “I want access to your laptop.”
I blink. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me.” She tilts her chin up, defiant. “If I’m going to understand all of this then I need to know what I’m dealing with. And I’m not just going to take your word for it.”
I should’ve expected this. Harper doesn’t just trust blindly. She needs proof, something tangible to make sense of the world she’s stepping into.
I exhale through my nose, running a hand through my hair. “Fine. Come with me.”
She follows me down the hall, our footsteps quiet against the hardwood. I lead her into my office. I walk over to my desk, unlocking my laptop with a quick tap of my fingerprint.
“You’ll find what you’re looking for in here,” I tell her, stepping back. “But be careful, Harper. There are some things you can’t unsee.”
She doesn’t hesitate. She sits in my chair, pulling the laptop toward her, eyes sharp and focused.
“I’ll take my chances.”
I watchher for a moment longer before turning away. Fine. Let her see. Let her understand.
Because if she stays after this, then maybe she really is ready for my world.
8 - Harper
Alessia closes the office door behind her and I let out a deep sigh. Man, that women is frustrating as hell.
I shouldn’t do this, I shouldn’t immerse myself into this world but I can’t help myself. Alessia has a hold on me. Even thought my brain is constantly yelling at me to get the hell out of here, I can’t.
For a minute I just stare at the screen in front of me before I press the button to open her folders. Multiple folders pop up in alphabetical order.
I hesitate, my fingers hovering over the mouse, but the curiosity burning inside me is too strong to ignore. The folders are labeled in a way that feels almost mundane, until I actually start clicking through them.
The first folder, simply titled Shipments, opens to reveal a meticulous ledger. Dates, times, locations. Some shipments are labeled with innocent-sounding descriptions like ‘textiles,’ ‘electronics.’ ‘produce.’ But as I scroll further, the codes shift, and suddenly the truth is laid bare in front of me. Firearms. Pharmaceuticals. My stomach twists. This is deeper thanI thought. This isn’t just some underground family business. This is a fully operational empire built on corruption and power.
I swallow back the bile rising in my throat and click into another folder labeled Legal Documents. There are contracts, business agreements, shell company records. All carefully forged or manipulated to ensure the family’s dealings remain just on the fringes of legality. Enough to maintain their front as legitimate businesspeople, but not enough to convict them. The way everything is laid out so neatly makes me uneasy. It’s not the chaos of a criminal enterprise, it’s the order, the precision, that makes me realize how far out of my depth I am.
And yet, I can’t stop.
I dig deeper, clicking on Leverage. The file is filled with names. Politicians. Police officers. CEOs. Some names are highlighted in red with additional notes beside them: ‘Owes us,’ ‘Blackmail material secured,’ ‘Unreliable. Remove if necessary.’
