A Devil's Advocate

Prologue II

Before she could respond, he was gone, slipping out into the rain as quietly as he’d arrived. Charlie stood there for a long moment, the envelope in her hands, her mind racing. Everything she’d believed about Kade Devaroux had been turned upside down in the span of five minutes. He wasn’t just a playboy heir—he was a man fighting a war he might not be able to win, a man carrying the weight of a legacy that had been corrupted from within.

But could she trust him? Could she risk her case, her career, and the safety of her clients on the word of a man who’d spent half his life pretending to be someone else?

She looked back at the testimonies on her desk—stories of pain and loss that had driven her to take on this fight in the first place. Then she looked at the documents Kade had given her, at the proof that the corruption ran deeper than she’d ever imagined. Whatever her feelings about him, whatever doubts she had, she knew one thing for certain: this case was no longer just about holding a corporation accountable. It was about stopping a man who would destroy anyone who stood in his way, and protecting the people who had nowhere else to turn.

And whether she liked it or not, she was going to have to do it with Kade Devaroux by her side.

****

Marseille, France • Five Years Earlier

The Mediterranean sun beat down on the deck of the Voyager, the flagship of the Devaroux Shipping fleet, as it sliced through the waters off the French Riviera. Kade stood at the bow, his hands gripping the rail as he watched the coastline of his grandfather’s birthplace slip by. He was thirty-one then, still trying to live up to the expectations of a family that had never quite accepted him—not since his mother, a Filipino artist he’d only met once as a child, had died in a car crash in Manila when he was seven.

“Kade, my boy.”

He turned to see his grandfather, Jean-Paul Devaroux, walking toward him. At seventy-five, the old man still moved with the grace and strength of a sailor, his weathered face tanned from decades spent at sea, his silver hair tied back in a ponytail that had been his trademark since the 1970s.

“Grand-père.” Kade forced a smile. “You should be resting. The doctors said you need to take it easy.”

Jean-Paul waved a dismissive hand. “Doctors don’t know anything about what a man needs. What I need is to make sure you understand what this company means—not just to our family, but to the people who depend on us.” He paused, his gaze fixed on the horizon. “I’ve been thinking about stepping down. I want you to take over as CEO.”

Kade felt a jolt of surprise shoot through him. For years, his uncle Marcial had been grooming himself for the position, currying favor with the board of directors, making deals behind closed doors, and painting Kade as nothing more than a reckless playboy who’d never be responsible enough to lead the company.

“Marcial will never agree to it,” Kade said.

“Marcial cares about one thing—money.” Jean-Paul’s voice was sharp with anger. “He’s already talking about cutting corners on safety, about expanding into markets we’ve always avoided because they’re too risky, too unethical. I won’t let him destroy everything I’ve built.” He placed a hand on Kade’s shoulder, his grip firm. “You have your mother’s heart, boy. You understand that power comes with responsibility. That’s why you’re the only one who can lead this company forward.”

“I don’t know if I can do it,” Kade admitted, the words tumbling out before he could stop them. “I’ve spent so long trying to be the person they want me to be—the devil who doesn’t care about anything—that I don’t know if I remember how to be who you need me to be.”

“Then it’s time you learned.” Jean-Paul squeezed his shoulder. “We’ll announce the transition at the family gathering in Madrid next month. I’ll make sure the board supports you. All you have to do is be ready to lead.”

That night, Kade stood on the deck of the Voyager as it anchored in the harbor at Cannes, watching the lights of the city glittering in the distance. He’d spent so many years running from his responsibilities, from the weight of the Devaroux name, that the idea of taking control felt both terrifying and exhilarating. He thought of his mother, of the few memories he had of her—her warm smile, the way she’d taught him to speak Tagalog even though his father had forbidden it, the small wooden statue of the Santo Niño she’d given him before she’d left for the last time.

He pulled the statue from his pocket, running his thumb over the smooth wood. He’d carried it with him everywhere, a secret connection to the part of himself he’d been forced to hide from his father’s side of the family.

“I’ll make you proud, Mama,” he whispered to the night air. “I’ll make sure this company does good in the world. Just like grand-père wants.”

But three weeks later, Jean-Paul Devaroux was found dead in his office in Marseille, a half-empty bottle of heart medication by his side. The official cause of death was a heart attack, but Kade had found something that made him question everything. A torn piece of paper in his grandfather’s wastebasket with Marcial’s handwriting on it, mentioning a “deal” with someone in the Philippines and warning that Jean-Paul was “getting in the way.”

When he’d confronted his uncle, Marcial had just smiled and said, “Sometimes the truth is too painful to bear, nephew. Your grandfather was old. His heart couldn’t take the stress of running the company anymore. It’s better this way—for all of us.”

The board had voted unanimously to make Marcial CEO, and Kade had watched in helpless fury as his uncle began implementing the very changes Jean-Paul had warned against. But he’d also realized something else, if he tried to fight Marcial directly, he’d lose. He’d be pushed out of the company entirely, or worse. So he’d made a choice—he’d play the part of the devil everyone expected him to be. He’d party, he’d gamble, he’d pretend to care about nothing but pleasure and power. And while Marcial thought he had his nephew under control, Kade was quietly gathering evidence, building alliances, and waiting for the moment when he could strike back.

That moment had come in Manila, when he’d learned about the land seizures and the labor abuses, when he’d discovered that Marcial was planning to expand his criminal operations into human trafficking. And that moment had led him to Atty. Charlie Fuentes—the one person who might be able to help him bring his uncle down.

****

Madrid, Spain, Three Months Ago

The casino at the Ritz Madrid was packed with the city’s elite, the air thick with cigar smoke and the clink of champagne glasses. Kade sat at a high-stakes poker table, his eyes fixed on the cards in his hand as he pretended to be lost in the game. Across from him, his cousin Nicolas—Marcial’s son—leaned back in his chair, a smug smile on his face as he watched Kade place another large bet.

“You’re getting careless, mi primo,” Nicolas said, his Spanish accent thick with arrogance. “Or maybe you’re just not as good as you think you are.”

Kade forced a grin, pushing his chips forward. “I like to live dangerously, Nico. It’s more fun that way.”

As the dealer dealt the final card, Kade felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. He slipped it out under the table, his fingers quickly scrolling through the message that had just come in. It was from Braelyn, his contact in the company’s accounting department in Barcelona.

“Javier Rodriguez talked to a lawyer. Marcial found out. Be careful. He’s planning something.”

Kade’s jaw tightened. He’d been trying to protect Javier, to make sure the young dockworker’s complaints about safety violations were taken seriously. But Marcial had eyes and ears everywhere, and it seemed he’d gotten to Javier before Kade could.

“I fold,” he said, pushing his cards away from him.