In His Bed

Chapter 19: Questions For Yvette

Aria

Stan asked Yvette to meet him in his office at the end of the day, framing it as routine, and I sat in the corner chair by the window, present at his request, quiet enough to observe without interrupting.

Yvette walked in exactly as composed as always, tablet in hand, smile easy. "You wanted to go over tomorrow's schedule?"

"Not exactly." Stan gestured to the chair across from his desk. "Sit down, Yvette. We need to talk about something else."

Something in her posture shifted, subtle but immediate, the easy competence tightening into something more careful. She sat anyway, tablet lowered to her lap. "Okay."

"Someone's been sending blackmail messages," Stan said, no preamble, watching her face closely as he spoke. "About Aria and me. And now about my father, and a private meeting from the gala that only a handful of people would have had access to know about."

Yvette's expression didn't change, not dramatically, but something behind her eyes moved, fast and unreadable. "That's serious. Do you have any idea who's behind it?"

"We have a list of six names." Stan's voice stayed level, controlled, the same precision he brought to every hostile negotiation. "You're on it."

The room went very still.

"I see," Yvette said finally, quiet.

"I'm not accusing you. I'm asking you directly, because I'd rather hear it from you than keep wondering." Something in his voice cracked slightly, the professional distance thinning under six years of genuine trust. "Did you have anything to do with this, Yvette? Any part of it?"

She was quiet for a long moment, and I watched her weigh something behind her carefully composed face, watched her decide, apparently, that the moment called for honesty rather than deflection.

"No," she said finally. "I didn't send anything. I didn't take any photos. I've never once, in six years, done anything to hurt you or this company." Something in her voice wavered, the first real crack I'd seen in her composure since I'd met her. "But I think I might know who did."

Stan went very still. "Who?"

"Marcus Aldridge." The name landed heavy in the quiet office. "He reached out to me two weeks ago. Said he had information about you and Aria, wanted to know if I'd be interested in confirming a few details for what he called a story he was putting together. I told him no. I told him it wasn't appropriate, and I should have told you immediately, and I didn't, because I didn't want to believe someone would actually go through with something like this."

"You knew," Stan said, voice gone dangerously quiet. "You knew he was planning something, and you didn't tell me."

"I know. I'm sorry. I genuinely didn't think he'd escalate to actual blackmail. I thought it was idle gossip, the kind of thing small town men like him threaten and never follow through on." Yvette's composure had fully cracked now, something raw and regretful underneath it. "I should have told you the moment he reached out. That's on me, and I understand if that costs me your trust."

I watched Stan process it, watched twelve years of careful control war with genuine hurt at the omission, however understandable the reasoning behind it had been.

"I need you to give me everything," he said finally. "Every detail of that conversation. Dates, exact wording, anything you remember."

"Of course." Yvette pulled out her phone with hands that weren't quite steady. "I have the messages still. I never deleted them, actually. Some part of me knew I might need them eventually."

She handed the phone across the desk, and Stan scrolled through the exchange, jaw tightening with each line, and I watched something settle into place behind his eyes, cold and resolved.

"This is enough," he said quietly. "This ties directly back to him. The photos, the timing, the specific details only someone at that gala would have known."

"What happens now," I asked.

"Now we go to the authorities." Stan set the phone down, something hard and unflinching in his voice. "This isn't just a personal matter anymore. It's extortion, and it's sabotage against a legitimate business deal. Marcus Aldridge just made the biggest mistake of his life underestimating exactly who he decided to threaten."

Yvette left a while later, apologetic and visibly shaken, and Stan and I sat alone in his office for a long moment, the weight of the last hour settling slowly between us.

"I almost thought it was her," I admitted quietly.

"So did I, for a while." Stan rubbed a hand over his face, exhausted in a new, different way now that the answer had finally surfaced. "I feel terrible for even suspecting her. Six years of loyalty, and I let one anonymous threat make me doubt all of it."

"That's not unreasonable, Stan. Not given everything at stake."

"Maybe not. But it still doesn't sit right." He looked at me, something steadier settling into his expression despite the exhaustion. "At least now we know who we're actually fighting."

"Marcus."

"Marcus," he confirmed, and something in his voice, quiet and certain, told me exactly how prepared he was to make sure the man regretted every part of what he'd started.