“Now, Father.”
Ash eyed his father carefully before the man cleared his throat. He nodded curtly before walking to the door, leaving Ash standing there with his mind at a complete standstill. He was disgusted by his father’s words. But it shouldn't have shocked him at all. It was that same kind of thinking that made Ash’s entire childhood a very special hell. It was why he began avoiding his parents at all costs when his trust fund was released to him. He didn’t want to think like his father. He didn’t want to be anything like his parents. He wanted to believe that love was out there for him. That a real woman could come into his life, turn it upside down, and sweep him off his own feet.
He wanted to believe there was more to life and love and romance than money.
His phone rang and he groaned. He picked up his shit and dragged it to his room before he sat down onto the bed. He pulled out his phone and answered it, not bothering to look at who it was before he put it to his ear.
“What?” Ash asked.
“Mr. Worthington. It’s Chanel.”
He furrowed his brow before he looked at his watch.
“Didn’t I just call you, like, three hours ago?”
“And you told me to put a rush on things. Did you not?” she asked.
“You’ve already got something.”
“I do. Because Mr. Rathbone is nothing, if not sloppy. Here’s the problem. All of what I’ve found can’t be held up in a court of law. So if you’re thinking about taking him to court for some sort of—”
“No one is settling anything in court,” he said curtly. “What is it?”
“I cashed in a couple of favors and pulled phone records. Both Rathbone’s and Miss Semple’s.”
“How do you know her name?” Ash asked. “Sorry. Shit question. The interview. Got it. Continue.”
“Mr. Worth—”
“Ash, please.”
“Ash,” she said, “there’s no evidence of those messages being sent from Kallie’s phone. From the records I received, she didn’t even send text messages during her time on the island. Only a few phone calls. All to the same number. Once I figured that out, I had my friend use some not-exactly-legal methods to hack into Rathbone’s phone.”
“You can do that?” Ash asked.
“Yes, but if anyone asks? No, I never would.”
“Got it. What did you find?”
“I found his phone applications. Specifically, which ones he had and when they were downloaded. And two weeks ago, guess what was downloaded onto his phone?”
“What?” he asked.
“Spoof. It’s an application designed specifically to curate fake text messages and text message conversations.”
“Wait, those exist?”
“There’s an app for everything, Ash. So I dug a little deeper and did some basic comparing. Those pictures. You know, the ones of you and Miss Semple as well as her and Rathbone?”
“Yes?” he asked. “What about them?”
“If that picture of the two of them kissing was taken the night before all of this first hit the tabloids, then it matches.”
“What matches?”
“The night of that kissing picture and him downloading that application onto his phone. It happened all in the same night. And it gets better. The time the application was downloaded was 11:04 that evening.”
“That would’ve been after the restaurant,” Ash said.