I hoped not. If this tanked my career, my life was over. There was no plan B.

“What if it does leak?”

“One step at a time,” he said. “But if it does, the parties responsible will wish it hadn’t. I assure you.”

Not as much as I will.

He looked at me sympathetically. “Take some time. I never want my clients to act when they’re under acute distress. Sleep on it. Spend some time with your girlfriend. Talk it over with someone you can trust.”

That wouldn’t work. No one else knew. I wanted to keep it that way.

I swallowed. “What would you tell Dallas to do?”

“Bury it.” Stewart gestured emphatically with his pudgy hands. “Find it, bury it, and throw a fucking funeral.”

“How?”

“We find out whether there’s a copy, and if there is, get some NDAs in place immediately. Then we properly destroy the files.”

I sighed. “Okay. That makes sense.”

“Look,” he said, “ninety-five percent of the time, clients throw money at this type of thing to sweeten the NDAs, and the issues disappear completely. We both know you can afford to do that.”

Yeah. But I shouldn’t fucking have to.

“You want me to pay to keep it quiet? Even though I wasn’t in the wrong here? You said what she did was a crime.”

“Speaking as both a lawyer and your friend, in situations like this, I recommend you do what you need to do.” He raised his eyebrows. “Think about how much it could cost you if you don’t.”

I shook my head, gaze fixed on the glossy black tile flooring. “This is brutal.”

Christ. Not exactly what my dad expected when he set me up financially, I’m sure. That I’d have to use the money for something like this. Fucking awesome. He would be so proud.

If he were still here, I could talk to him. Get his advice. I wanted him back more than anything. The ever-present ache of missing him was almost intolerable right now. I was lost. I needed him. Needed someone in my corner more than anything—someone to tell me what the fuck to do, because I sure as hell didn’t know.

“I know, son.” Stewart planted his elbows on the desk, fixing me with a fatherly look—stern but somehow gentle. “Do you want to be right, or do you want to make this go away?”

“Guessing I can’t have both.”

“No.” He shook his head. “You can’t.”

* * *

My mind was spinning on the drive home. Song after song played on the radio, but I didn’t hear a single word.

I’d quickly responded to Bailey’s text when I got into my truck, but we had plans tonight and I had no idea how to drop this bomb on her. I was still processing it myself.