I close my eyes.
The ring sits heavy on my finger, our baby grows safe inside me, and the monster holds me while I sleep.
For the first time in my life, I don't feel like I’m surviving.
I feel like I’m winning.
Ruininga man shouldn’t feel this good.
On the bank of monitors lining the wall of my office, a ticker tape of financial carnage scrolls across the bottom of the screen. Thornton Enterprises. Down twelve points. Down twenty. Down thirty-five.
It’s a fucking freefall.
The SEC leak dropped an hour ago. The allegations of insider trading and asset inflation hit the news cycle like a bomb, and now I’m just watching the dust settle.
Leather creaks as I lean back in my chair, steepling my fingers while the anchor on CNBC breathlessly discusses the "unprecedented collapse" of one of the Pacific Northwest’s most stable real estate empires. They use words likeshockingandcatastrophic.
I call it overdue.
James Thornton thought he could try to encroach on my territory. He thought he could whisper in my son’s ear, turn my own blood against me, and carve out a piece of my legacy for himself. He mistook silence for weakness. He didn't realize that while he played checkers, I’d already wired the board with C4.
My phone buzzes on the desk.
Cohen.
"Give me good news," I say, answering the call on speaker.
"He's hemorrhaging," Cohen says, chuckling. "The board just called an emergency vote of no confidence. They’re freezing his access to company accounts effective immediately. He’s liquidating personal assets to try and cover the margin calls, but it’s like trying to stop a tsunami with a paper cup."
"And Ryder?"
"Spotted walking into Thornton’s office twenty minutes ago. My guy said he looked manic. Security tried to stop him, but he caused a scene."
A cold amusement settles in my chest.
Ryder ran to the sinking ship thinking it was a life raft.
"He’s going to be desperate," Cohen warns. "Desperate men do stupid things."
"Let him. If he wants to drown with James, I’ll personally hold his head under."
"Oh, by the way. The Six confirmed for the gala," Cohen adds, shifting gears. "Well, not all of them. Cole, Romeo, Beckett, and Xander. If Ryder tries anything, he won’t get far."
"Good."
"You sure about this, Gabe? Things are going to get messy."
"Messy is the point."
“If you say so.”
“I do.” I end the call.
Standing, I walk to the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the town. Snow falls steadily, coating Emerald Hills in a deceptive layer of white purity. Beneath it, a little bit of the rot is being purged.
It’s three days until Christmas.
Just three more days until I walk into that ballroom with Blair on my arm and end this once and for all.
