Every time I steal a glance at Brooke in the passenger seat of my vehicle, there's a tug in the pit of my stomach. Unlike her usual, chatty state, she's barely said a word all morning. The most I got was confirmation of what she wanted for breakfast. Even then, she barely touched the omelet and toast I made.

Now the atmosphere is heavier than lead, and she looks like she's on the verge of throwing up. I'm concerned about her—and a little worried about the taupe-colored milled Nappa leather seats, though I'd never hold it against her if something happened.

After a few more failed attempts at making conversation, I leave well enough alone for the rest of the fifteen-minute drive. She keeps her gaze fixed out the window as I pull into a parking spot on the street outside the building where her psychoeducational assessment is booked.

Shifting the ignition into park, I reach over and place a hand on her knee. "It's going to be okay."

"I hate tests." Brooke places her soft hand on mine, but stays angled away from me in the passenger seat.

"It's not that kind of test. There's no right or wrong, pass or fail."

"Sure." She huffs a jagged breath, on the verge of tears. "Just a test to determine how smart I am."

Well, fuck. That one hit me right in the feels.

I kill the ignition, sliding out of the driver's seat. Brooke watches as I come around to her side and open the door, reaching over to unfasten her seatbelt. Once the nylon strap retracts out of the way, I wrap my arms around her small frame. She loops her arms around my waist and buries her face against my chest, still refusing to look at me.

"That's not what this is about," I tell her, stroking her dark hair. "Think of it more as an assessment to determine how your brain is wired. How you learn."

Her shoulders rise with an inhale, sagging as she breathes out. "I know. I'm trying to."

An unexpected burst of anger flickers within me. Not at her—at those assholes Travis and Jade, because I know they're a major contributing factor as to why she feels this way. And if my suspicions are right, they're guilty of a lot more than that.

A few more seconds pass, and she draws in a deep breath, releasing her hold on me. She lifts her chin, and there's fear across her face as her ice-blue eyes lock with mine.

"Regardless of what it says, it doesn't change who you are. It's just information, that's all."

"Okay." Brooke swallows hard. "Might as well get this over with." She reaches for her purse before getting out, and I close the car door behind her.

A few minutes later, we're on the tenth floor at Reframed Psychological Testing. We take a seat in the waiting area as a small stone fountain babbles in the background. It's probably meant to be calming, but it's already wearing on my nerves.

Brooke fidgets in her seat beside me, unable to focus on her phone or the magazines laying around. Instead, we make small talk about last-minute details for Brendan and Vidya's wedding, like the groomsmen gifts, but I can tell her mind is somewhere else.

When they finally call her name, she practically leaps out of her seat. Pausing, she turns to look back at me with a deer-in-headlights expression.

"I'll meet you downstairs when you're finished, okay?" I say. "Text me on your way down and I'll get you a coffee."

"Yep." She nods, but the look of pending vomit returns. I've never seen her so nervous, and it triggers every protective instinct I have.

Chest tight, I wait until she disappears into the testing room with the psychologist. Once the door clicks shut behind them, I linger for a few more seconds before taking the stairs back down to the lobby and getting my laptop out of the car.

Starbucks on the ground floor of the office building is packed, so I order a grande Americano that I don't particularly want but need to purchase

in order to justify hanging around and taking up space. Then I select a table off in the corner with some degree of privacy.

With Josh admitted to inpatient treatment for the foreseeable future, I've had a lot more time on my hands. I didn't realize how much triaging his carousel of disasters ate into my day—not to mention my mental bandwidth. This means I've had an opportunity to deep dive into the banking records Brooke sent me. At this point, I have a pretty good idea of what transpired, but I wanted to be sure before I said anything to her. I didn't want to send her into a tailspin until I was absolutely certain, especially with how nervous she was about her assessment.

Thing is, it's a lot of money. And that's not even including the damages for what Jade did to her or the other intangible assets relating to the company that Brooke is entitled to.

I pull up the corporate search registry, and a few keystrokes confirm my suspicions. I guess Jade made a half-assed attempt to hide what she was doing, but it was still sloppy. Money going all kinds of different places. Transfers to a numbered company linked back to Travis. Another named corporation owned by Jade. And some money going to Brooke, probably enough to keep her satisfied, but not nearly her fair share.

*

Brooke's spirits are a little lighter when she comes downstairs, and lighter still when I pass her the grande Iced Sugar Cookie Almond Milk Latte she requested. Ordering it felt a little bit like handing in my man card, but it was fully worth it for the way her face lit up.

She doesn't recap the test, so I don't press as we head back to the other end of town to meet up with Brendan for lunch near his law firm. We have other things to discuss, anyway—like the six-figure sum Jade pilfered.

Brendan is running behind, and when he slides into the booth across from us at the sushi place, his eyes fall to Brooke. Concern crosses his face, and I give him a tiny shake of the head. He doesn't mention the assessment.

After ordering a platter of assorted rolls and sashimi, we dive reviewing into the package I emailed Brendan earlier this morning.

...and breaking the news.

"You think she owes me how much?" Brooke stares at us blankly.

"About two hundred and twenty thousand," I repeat. "Pre-tax, of course."

One of the bigger surprises for me was how much money they made. Even after their legitimate expenses, the net amount is an impressive figure.

Though, I tend to think most of that was Brooke's doing. She was the one on the creative front-lines, branding and coming up with concepts while Jade was cooking numbers behind the scenes.

She slowly sets down her chopsticks, lips pressed together in a line. "Is was that Chic Fit Athletics deal, wasn't it? I knew she lied about how much they paid us. The figure seemed too low; a deal with a big brand, our number of followers, something didn't jive right. But it didn't fully click until after everything had already blown up in my face."

"That was a big part of it," I confirm. "She also appears to have been taking out money for personal expenses."

"Definitely appears to be misappropriation of funds," Brendan says, shrugging off his navy suit jacket with a frown. "Without doubt, you'd have a strong civil case. It's been awhile since law school, so as far as anything criminal goes—"

"Criminal?" She cuts him off.

"Sometimes this kind of thing can fall under the criminal umbrella in addition to civil. But that isn't my area of expertise, so I'll have to defer to someone else on that matter. There are a couple of senior lawyers who can provide their opinion."

I can't deny the schadenfreude. After Jade took advantage of the fact that Brooke trusted her implicitly, I would love nothing more than to turn her life inside-out. If we could take down that asshole Travis, too, all the better.

Brooke swallows a bite of her California roll, hesitating. "I don't know if I would even want to get into that kind of thing."

My kneejerk reaction is, why the hell not? But I know we'll enough by now that pushing Brooke won't help any. I'd like to understand her objections, though, because nailing Jade to the wall is fully warranted.

"Either way, one doesn't preclude the other." Brendan grabs a Mont Blanc out of his briefcase and pushes his plate to the side, making notes on his legal pad. "I'll have one of the junior lawyers draft a demand letter for your review. We'll request significant interest on the amount owing, obviously. Dean thinks there are other damages, and I can look into that as well before we send this out. I'll circle back on the Travis piece later."

"Do you really think Jade is just going to...pay me? Just because I send her some letter?" Brooke eyes us dubiously over her ceramic mug of green tea tea. "Seems too good to be true."

Another pang. That's why she doesn't want to investigate charges; she clearly doesn't think they'd go anywhere. I hate how downtrodden she is over everything that's happened.

That's not to say I have any faith in Jade doing the right thing; I just plan to help Brooke put the screws to her legally until she has no choice.

I set down my beer, trying to keep my tone light. "She might if charges are on the table."

"Isn't that blackmail?" She asks.

"Not at all," Brendan says. "We'll merely be notifying Jade about your findings and providing her with an opportunity to resolve it. But Dean's right. She might be compelled to repay the funds in a more timely manner if she knows there's the threat of an arrest looming over her head."

We pause as our server returns with a plate of tuna sashimi, setting it down, and refills our water classes.

Once she's out of earshot, Brendan continues. "In nearly all cases, it's better for everyone to settle out of court. Otherwise, a civil case could drag out for months; possibly even years. The only people who benefit from going to trial are the lawyers."

"We don't even know if she did anything criminal," Brooke points out. "But I'm willing to do whatever you advise. I just want this over with, honestly. It's been a hellacious year."

"Ouch,"'I say. "No upsides at all?"

Her mouth tugs. "Maybe one."

Brendan looks both amused and slightly disturbed, but says nothing.

Between the three of us, we consume an astonishing amount of food. Maybe because Brooke didn't eat breakfast this morning, or maybe because we're all stress-eating for our own personal reasons. Brooke due to the obvious, and Brendan because he's always been been worrier over her. Not to mention, his wedding is nearly at a single-digit countdown.

As far as I'm concerned, I have secondhand stress for Brooke, plus I'm on-edge about Joshua's progress—or lack thereof. It's hard to get a good read on what's happening in rehab whenever we speak. He's stellar at being vague over the phone. And unfortunately, he's been around the rehab block enough times to fake being 'recovered' fairly well.

When Brooke excuses herself to use the washroom, Brendan and I fight over who gets to pay the bill. Eventually, I relent because he points out that he's simply charging it back to the firm as a business lunch.

He steals a glance over my shoulder to confirm that Brooke isn't heading back yet. "How did it go earlier?"

"All right, I think. She was really nervous, but she seemed better after it was over. I haven't really pried much, though. No point in speculating until she gets the results."

Signing the bill, he slips his copy of the the receipt into his wallet. "Thank you for going with her..." he trails off, jaw setting. "I still can't believe we missed that. I feel like a shitty brother, you know?"

"Sometimes it's harder to see things when we're close to people. It probably seemed normal to you because that's how she's always been."

"Still." He rakes a hand through his hair. I can try to talk him out of feeling guilty all I want, but I know he's going to beat himself up over this for a while—even if it's not warranted.

Brooke reappears, hoisting her purse onto her shoulder. Handing over her jacket, I slide out of the booth to join her.

A newfound sense of determination stretches across her face. "You know what? I thought of something else I want from Jade."

"What's that?" we both ask.

"A fucking apology. A public one."

Hopefully, Jade (and Travis) gets what's coming to her.