The next morning, Liam’s calendar looked like someone had bled red all over it.
“Board call at nine,” Tessa recited, walking beside him as they cut through the atrium toward the elevators. “Union update at ten. Regulatory review prep at eleven. Lunch—that one was my idea, you’re welcome. PR strategy at one. Call with Tokyo at two—”
“Cancel Tokyo,” he said, jabbing the elevator button a little harder than necessary.
She blinked. “You can’t cancel Tokyo.”
“I just did,” he said. “Reschedule for tomorrow. Today, I’m not leaving this time zone.”
“Because of the board?” she asked.
“Because of everything,” he said.
The elevator dinged. They stepped in.
“Also,” Tessa added, “you should know that certain…parties…have been making inquiries.”
His eyes narrowed. “What kind of parties?”
“The fun kind,” she said dryly. “Old adversaries. Competitors. Ex-board members who liked your father better.”
His jaw tightened. “Names.”
She pressed her lips together. “Alastair Kane.”
Of course.
“Has he called you?” he asked.
“Not yet,” she said. “But his assistant has called three of your vice presidents and one of our legal counsel ‘just to catch up.’”
He exhaled through his nose. “He smells weakness,” he muttered.
“He smells change,” Tessa corrected. “He doesn’t know if it’s weakness yet. That’s what today’s calls are about.”
The elevator doors opened on twenty-three. As they stepped out, the receptionist half-rose.
“Mr. Hart,” Megan said, voice just slightly too bright. “Mr. Kane is on line three. He asked for you personally.”
“Of course he did,” Liam said under his breath.
He walked into his office, dropped his briefcase, and pointed at the phone.
“Take notes,” he told Tessa. “And if I start throwing things, remind me I just pledged to set a good example for my daughter.”
Her brows lifted, but she only said, “Yes, sir,” and opened her notebook.
He picked up the receiver and hit the blinking light.
“Kane,” he said. No greeting. No pretense.
“Liam,” came the smooth, accented reply. “I was starting to think you’d forgotten about your old friends.”
“We were never friends,” Liam said. “You were my father’s rival. There’s a difference.”
“Rivals, yes,” Kane said, unbothered. “But I respected him. I respect you too. I always admire men who manage to keep a straight face while the sharks circle.”
Liam swivelled his chair to face the window, eyes on the cranes down at the port.
“What do you want?” he asked.
“To congratulate you,” Kane said. “On your engagement. And your…expanding family.”
Ice slid down Liam’s spine.
“Interesting phrasing,” he said. “Almost sounds like you know something you shouldn’t.”
“A little bird told me,” Kane said lightly. “A very chatty bird with…intimate knowledge of your bride. I believe you know her. Dahlia Costa?”
Liam’s hand tightened on the phone.
“I don’t take gossip from people who sell photos of grieving girls to tabloids,” he said.
“Oh, she sold you that story, did she?” Kane murmured. “Charming. No, I didn’t pay for information. She gave it freely. She’s…motivated.”
“I’m not interested in anything she has to say,” Liam said. “Nor in anything you think you can do with it.”
“Perhaps you should be,” Kane said. “She showed me a very compelling picture. Your fiancée. Pregnant. Five years ago. Alone. No father in sight.”
Liam shut his eyes briefly.
“That is none of your business,” he said, voice steady with effort.
“Everything is my business,” Kane said. “Especially when it affects Hart Global. Imagine how your shareholders might feel if they learned that not only did their CEO impregnate a teenage girl and abandon her, but that he then—”
“I didn’t know,” Liam cut in, sharper than he intended.
“Ah.” There was satisfaction in Kane’s tone. “So the story is true.”
Liam dragged a hand over his face. “What do you want?” he repeated.
Kane’s voice turned almost bored. “Nothing outrageous,” he said. “I like balance in the market. Share, don’t swallow. We’ve both been bidding on Pier 7, no?”
The port lease. Of course.
“You want me to back off,” Liam said.
“I want you to consider,” Kane said, “whether you can afford another front. Board muttering. Unions growling. Press sniffing. And now this…personal revelation. Do you truly want to add a bruising fight with me to your list?”
Liam’s teeth hurt with the force of his restraint.
“My father didn’t raise me to roll over,” he said.
“Your father raised you to win,” Kane countered. “Winning is not always charging. Sometimes it is…choosing the war you fight.”
“You called so you could threaten me with the possibility that you’ll leak something about my fiancée and her child,” Liam said. “I stood in front of cameras yesterday and acknowledged them both. You have no bullet I haven’t already taken.”
“Ah, but you didn’t admit to sleeping with her while she was barely legal and worked for your almost-stepmother,” Kane said. “People are funny about that sort of thing. They get…moral.”
Heat flared in Liam’s chest.
“I’m done with this conversation,” he said.
“Think about it,” Kane said silkily. “Back away from Pier 7. Focus on your…family. The world will understand. They like their CEOs tame.”
“I’m not tame,” Liam said.
“Prove it, then,” Kane said. “But do it knowing I won’t hesitate to use every weapon at my disposal. Including that charming little family photo Dahlia gave me.”
He hung up.
The dial tone buzzed in Liam’s ear like a gnat.
Slowly, he set the receiver down.
Tessa closed her notebook.
“Well,” she said. “That was…on brand.”
“He wants me to back off the port lease,” Liam said. “He thinks threatening Mara and Hallie will do it.”
“Will it?” Tessa asked bluntly.
He turned.
“No,” he said.
She studied him. “Good,” she said. “Then we plan for war.”
He lifted a brow. “You volunteered for this?”
“I like a challenge,” she said. “Besides, Mara’s nice. I don’t want to see her dragged through any more tabloids than absolutely necessary.”
“Not ‘none’?” he asked.
“This world doesn’t do ‘none,’” she said. “But we can minimize.”
He exhaled.
“Loop Sam in,” he said. “Tell him to stress-test our position on Pier 7. I’m not backing off, but I’m not walking in blind either. And put Dahlia and Liana’s names on the ‘do not admit’ list for any Hart property. Offices, hotels, ships. Everything.”
“What about press?” Tessa asked. “We can’t exactly control who Kane talks to.”
“We can’t control them,” he said. “But we can…counter-program.”
“By marrying her faster?” she said. “That’s one way.”
He paused.
He’d promised not to rush.
But Kane’s threat had accelerated the stakes.
“We stick to our timeline,” he said finally. “We already filed the license. The date is in three weeks. Moving it up would look panicked. We’re not panicked.”
“You’re panicked,” she observed.
He almost smiled. “I’m…motivated.”
“I’ll call Sam,” she said. “You call Mara. She deserves to know she’s been weaponized.”
He nodded.
As she left, he stared at the city, feeling the tectonic plates of his life grinding.
He was used to adversaries.
But never before had the battlefield run through his own kitchen.
***
“You think he’ll really do it?” Mara asked, fingers tightening around her mug.
Elena’s kitchen had become their war room again.
She sat at the table, Liam beside her, their shoulders almost touching. The nearness steadied her more than the coffee.
Liam’s jaw worked. “Kane doesn’t bluff,” he said. “If he thinks something gives him leverage, he’ll use it.”
“But you already said it,” she pointed out. “On TV. You didn’t hide me. Or Hallie. What else can he say that you haven’t…basically admitted?”
“That I slept with you when you were in a vulnerable position,” he said bluntly. “That you worked tangentially for Liana. That I didn’t follow up. That I didn’t find you.”
Guilt flared in his eyes.
Mara looked down at her hands.
“He’s not wrong,” she said quietly. “About some of that.”
“No,” Liam said. “But context matters. So does consent. We may not remember everything, but I know one thing with absolute certainty: if I’d thought, for even a second, that you were unable to consent, I would have thrown myself out that window before I touched you.”
Her chest ached.
“I know,” she said. “Now. But the world doesn’t care about nuance. They like simple stories.”
“Hart Heir Predates on Housekeeper,” Elena muttered. “Garbage sells.”
Mara’s stomach rolled.
“Is marrying into this going to ruin her?” she asked, gesturing vaguely toward the ceiling where Hallie was napping. “Her friends. Her school. Everything.”
“It doesn’t have to,” Liam said.
“How do you know?” she demanded. “You grew up rich. Protected. Private schools and drivers. No one printed photos of you if you spilled juice on yourself at five.”
He flinched. “They printed other things,” he said. “But you’re right. My childhood was…insulated. I can’t promise Hallie that level of…shield. But I can promise to stand in front of her. To sue anyone who uses her image without consent. To keep your address off anything public. To hire security that doesn’t look like security when it’s needed.”
“Bodyguards at preschool,” she muttered.
“Subtle ones,” he said. “Like Devon. Or smaller.”
Against her will, a shaky laugh escaped. “A pocket guard,” she said. “We’ll keep him in her backpack.”
He smiled, brief and real.
Elena watched them, something like relief flickering there.
“We’re not backing away from Pier 7,” Liam said, turning to her. “But I need you to know what that means. Kane will come harder. He’ll…poke at every perceived weakness. Including me ‘marrying down.’”
Mara lifted a brow. “Is that what you think this is?” she asked.
“No,” he said, immediate. “That’s what *they* think. Some of them. They won’t say it to your face. They’ll say it in boardrooms.”
“I don’t care what they think,” she lied.
He saw through it.
“You care,” he said gently. “And you have every right to. But they don’t define you. Or us.”
“Who does?” she asked.
He reached for her hand.
His fingers closed around hers, warm and solid.
“We do,” he said.
Her pulse kicked.
“You sound very sure,” she said.
“I have to be,” he said. “If I’m not, they’ll eat us alive.”
She squeezed his hand before she could talk herself out of it.
“Okay,” she said. “Then let’s not make it easy for them.”
***