I'm In Love With My Bestfriend's Billionaire Fiance!
Chapter 121: Who Really Is Vic Morano?

Chapter 121: Who Really Is Vic Morano?

(Casey’s POV)

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I snatched my coat from the back of the chair, slipping one arm in even as I crossed the room. The fabric tangled awkwardly as I moved, but I didn’t stop. I wasn’t waiting for comfort—I needed answers, and I needed them now.

My purse was next. I grabbed it in one swift motion, nearly yanking it off the desk, and stormed toward the office door. Every step echoed with urgency.

As I reached for the handle, it flew open—and I almost crashed straight into Liam.

His brows jumped in surprise, eyes darting to the coat half-draped over my shoulder, then to the tense line of my mouth. "Oh..." he murmured, his voice uncertain. "Going somewhere?"

I didn’t slow down. "Yeah. Paragon Park."

He blinked. "So Janet didn’t pull through?"

I shook my head grimly as I adjusted my coat. "Nope. Not even close. I can’t sit here waiting for half-baked updates and dead ends. If I want real answers, I need to go down there myself. See the situation with my own eyes. Maybe—just maybe—I’ll figure out where Kira actually is."

Liam stepped closer, lowering his voice. "But what about the new clients? And the updates they’re waiting for? What if the lawyers are ready with our counter-suit for the florist?"

"I’m not vanishing," I said, brushing past him. "I’m not planning to camp out at Kira’s. I’ll be back this evening, and we’ll handle the clients then."

I turned to face him briefly. "Look, if anything comes up—anything urgent—you call me. Otherwise, keep things on track here until I return. Can you do that?"

His jaw tightened, but then he nodded. "Yeah... of course. Just—make sure you stay safe, okay? You’ve been on edge lately. More than usual."

I forced a tight smile. "I’ll be fine. Promise. Just hold the fort."

Liam hesitated for a breath, then stepped aside, letting me pass.

I pushed through the doors of the office and headed toward the elevator. The polished hallway that usually felt like a symbol of order and control now felt distant—like I was walking through a façade, peeling at the edges. Everything inside me was vibrating. That kind of vibration you get right before a storm breaks.

The elevator seemed slower than usual. The numbers descended one by one, each second dragging with it a deeper sense of dread. I stared at my reflection in the chrome walls—my eyes were sharp, jaw set, but there was something else there. A shadow behind the focus. Something I couldn’t name.

Get it together.

When the doors finally opened, sunlight poured in from the lobby windows like an assault. I stepped outside and felt the heat slam into me—dry, relentless. The sky was clear, too clear. It made me feel exposed. Too visible. Like something—or someone—was watching.

I tried to shake the feeling as I marched across the lobby and approached my car. The sleek black sedan gleamed beneath the unforgiving sun, already radiating heat from the bodywork. I yanked the door open, threw my purse into the passenger seat, and slid in.

The air inside was suffocating, a furnace of silence and stress. I shoved the key in, started the engine, and the low growl of the motor was the only sound I found remotely comforting.

With my phone secured in the cupholder and my seatbelt fastened, I pulled out of the lot, tires whispering across the pavement. My grip on the wheel was white-knuckled, more from what I didn’t know than from what I did.

Within minutes, I was weaving into traffic and merging onto the highway.

Every inch of road I devoured felt like a countdown. Paragon Park wasn’t just a location today—it was the final chess piece, the place where everything might tip. I didn’t know what I was going to find there, but my instincts screamed that something was off. Kira’s silence. Janet’s vague answers.

I couldn’t let this wait any longer.

Signs blurred past: exit numbers, gas stations, rest stops. I kept my focus razor sharp, cutting through the drive with mechanical precision. It was muscle memory by now—the turnpike to the old access road, the long stretch of fencing that curled like a spine toward Paragon Park.

I tore down the highway, the tires humming in protest as I pushed the speed limit. The sun was now a cruel glare in the rearview, casting long shadows across the asphalt. Paragon Park was still miles ahead, but my mind was already there—spiraling through every possible scenario. Every dead lead. Every lie.

Then my phone began to ring.

The sharp trill shattered the tense silence inside the car. My pulse kicked up as I glanced at the screen.

Jace.

Of course. He was probably checking in, wanting updates, needing something solid about Kira. I snatched the phone from the cupholder and answered without hesitation.

"Hey," I said breathlessly, just as I weaved around a sluggish truck, the engine grunting in response.

"What are you doing right now?" Jace’s voice was calm but strained. Tense, like something was boiling just beneath the surface.

"What? Why?" I asked, instantly on edge.

"I’m about to switch to video."

That stopped me for half a second. "Oh..." I muttered, one hand tightening on the steering wheel. "I’m driving. Heading to Paragon Park. I’m on my way to Kira’s house."

His reply came fast. "That might not be necessary."

My breath hitched.

"What?" I gasped. "What the hell is going on, Jace?"

"Just pull over. Find a safe spot. I’ll wait."

"Fuck!" I hissed. My heart had already started racing before his call. Now it thundered.

I jerked the car into the right lane, honking hard as I swerved past slower vehicles, my tires skimming the divider lines. Horns blared behind me. I ignored them. I had tunnel vision now. Nothing existed outside of what Jace wasn’t telling me.

Finally, I spotted a rundown diner on the edge of the highway, its neon sign flickering like a heartbeat. I veered off, gravel crunching beneath my tires as I skidded into the parking lot. I slammed the gear into park, killed the engine, and reached for my phone with shaking hands.

"Okay, I’m here," I panted. "What’s going on?"

"Switch to video, babe," Jace said gently.

"Yeah... yeah, hold on," I fumbled to tap the screen, flipping to video mode.

And just like that, his face filled my phone.

For a second, everything around me blurred. The diner. The sun. The tension. All of it faded. My chest tightened in that familiar way—just seeing him did that to me. Despite everything, the chaos, the danger, the unanswered questions, he was still my center.

But then I noticed the background behind him—and my stomach dropped.

"You’re at Vic’s?" I asked.

He nodded, his jaw tense. "Yeah. Turns out he was holed up at The Abbey."

My mouth went dry. The Abbey. That place was a dump. A hollow shell of a place where forgotten people disappeared into silence. And Vic had been hiding there?

"Jesus... Who would have thought?" I whispered.

"Yeah. It’s worse than we imagined. The place reeks of mold and secrets."

"Why does that not surprise me?"

"But here’s the thing," Jace continued, his voice tightening. "I realized I’ve seen him before. His face... it’s been bothering me. Like a splinter I can’t dig out."

My heart skipped. "Wait—what do you mean?"

"Ethan feels the same. There’s something about Vic—familiar, unsettling. We both looked at him and got the same reaction. Like we should know who he is."

I swallowed. "So I’m not the only one?" I asked, my voice thin.

"No. You’re not. But the weird thing is, we can’t place him. It’s like looking at a jigsaw puzzle that’s missing the final piece. We’re staring directly at him, and still... nothing. But we’re sure we know him from somewhere."

"But I have seen him before," I said. "That grainy photo Ethan showed me last night—it sparked something. And now, I think I just need to see him clearly. Who knows... it might knock something loose for me."

"We were hoping you’d say that." Jace’s hand moved, and the view shifted.

He switched the camera.

The screen went shaky for a moment as he adjusted. The dim light in the room flickered erratically, probably from some cheap overhead bulb. Then—Vic came into view.

He was slumped on a stained mattress, propped up like a discarded mannequin. His expression was blank, but not empty. No, his eyes were alert—watching, calculating. Ethan stood beside him, one hand on Vic’s shoulder, the other lifting his head for the camera. A flashlight cut across the shadows, illuminating the man’s face.

Then Jace zoomed in.

And just like that—it hit me.

Like a bullet through memory. My breath caught. The air in the car thickened.

I saw his face—really saw it—and recognition detonated in my brain. Not just the face. Even without hearing him speak, I could remember his voice. That chilling, falsely polite tone.

"Hello, Miss Dunlop."

"Hope to see you again, Miss Dunlop."

The memory came in fragments, harsh and cold. A hallway. A building. His voice drifting behind me like smoke. He hadn’t just been a stranger. He had been close. Closer than I realized.

"Holy shit..." I gasped, my hand trembling so hard my phone almost slipped from my grip.

Jace’s voice sharpened. "What is it? You remember him?"

"I—I know where I saw him," I whispered. "I know where I’ve been seeing him!"

"You do?" There was a flicker of hope in his voice. Relief. Curiosity. Dread.

I nodded slowly, my throat dry. "Yeah... and you’re not gonna like it."