The threat to Emma cuts through me like a blade. Vision narrows. Pulse pounding so loud I can barely hear.
“Leave her out of this!”
“When you sign.” Helena holds out a pen. “Your friend. Your girlfriend. Your money. Your pride. You can't save all of them. So which will it be?”
I look at Logan. He's watching me, one eye nearly swollen shut, blood dripping from his chin. He shakes his head slowly.Don't do it.
But I see the fear underneath. He's trying to be brave, trying to protect me, like he always has. I’m so fucking tired of people I love getting hurt because of what I am.
This is my legacy. Not the money, not the empire. This. Violence and manipulation. Using people as pawns. My mother learned it from my father, or maybe they learned it together. Now they've passed it to me like a genetic defect.
I thought I could escape it. Thought the life I was building was proof that the Hammond poison hadn't reached me.
I'm a fool.
“Pen.” My voice comes out hollow. Dead.
“Kai, don't—“ Logan starts.
One of the mercenaries backhands him, and he goes quiet.
Helena walks toward me, heels clicking, crouches down to my level. Up close, I can see the fine lines around her eyes, theslight loosening of skin at her jaw. She's aged in ways I never noticed. Or maybe I just never looked at her as a stranger.
“There's my smart boy,” she murmurs, almost tender. “I knew you'd see reason.”
She cuts my zip ties. Blood rushes back into my fingers in agonizing prickles. She sets the documents on the floor in front of me, pages fluttering slightly in some invisible draft.
I pick up the pen.
My hand is shaking. The words on the page blur and swim. Fifteen percent of Hammond Industries. My insurance policy. My leverage. The only thing that gave me power in my father's world.
I'm about to sign it away to save my best friend's life.
The worst part isn't losing the shares. It's knowing Helena was right. I'm sentimental. Weak. Exactly what Victor always feared I was. Not ruthless enough to do what's necessary. Too soft to be a true heir.
Maybe that's a good thing. Maybe being a true Hammond is the last thing I should want.
The pen feels heavy. Each letter is a surrender, a defeat, another piece of myself carved away.
When I'm done, Helena examines my signature with satisfaction.
“There.” She straightens, tucking the folder into her bag. “That wasn't so difficult, was it?”
Something inside me has gone quiet. Hollow. I signed away my future to save Logan, and I don't regret it. The emptiness is still there. The knowledge that I was outmaneuvered by my own mother. That I never stood a chance.
“Don't look so tragic, Alexander.” Helena's voice is almost kind. “You'll rebuild. You inherited your initiative from me.”
New footsteps above us, hurried, approaching fast.
Helena checks her phone, her lips curving. “Right on time.”
The door at the top of the stairs opens, and my father descends into this madness.
Victor Hammond looks like a man caught in a storm. Suit wrinkled, silver hair disheveled, something wild in his eyes as they sweep the room. When he sees me on my knees, bleeding, his face goes white.
“Alexander—“ He starts toward me.
“Stop there.” Helena's voice is a whip crack. The mercenaries move, blocking his path. My father freezes.
