"You don't know anything about my relationship with my daughter."
"I know she was surprised when I asked how she was feeling. Said no one ever asks her that." I hold his gaze. "I know she flinches when her phone rings because she expects bad news. I know she thought she deserved those death threats because she's been told her whole life that she's too much, too loud, too spoiled to be worth protecting."
He’s mercifully silent.
"So yeah," I say. "I'm an ex-con with nothing. But I'd die for her. I'd kill for her—already have. And I see her in a way you never bothered to. So you tell me, Mr. Sterling. What exactly do you have to offer that I don't?"
Silence.
Sterling stares at me for a long moment. Then he walks to the bar, pours himself a scotch, and drinks half of it in one swallow.
"You think you're the first man to say pretty words about my daughter?" His voice is quieter now. More controlled. "She's been surrounded by men who wanted her money, her connections, her body. They all said they loved her. They all said she was special."
"I'm not them."
"How do I know that?"
"Because I tried to stay away from her." I don't look away. "I knew it was wrong. I knew it would cost me everything I've been building. I told myself every day to keep my distance, to be professional, to remember that she was a job and nothing more."
"And yet here we are."
"And yet here we are." I take a breath. "I didn't want to want her. But I do. And I'm done apologizing for it."
Sterling finishes his scotch. Sets the glass down with a sharp click.
"My lawyers have made the situation with that Mercer kid go away," he says. "Self-defense. No charges. You're in the clear."
"I know."
"I could undo that. One phone call, and suddenly there are witnesses who saw something different. Evidence that was overlooked. Questions that need answering."
"You could try."
"I could destroy your business. Make sure no one in this industry ever works with you again. You'd be back to nothing. Probably worse than nothing."
"Probably."
He frowns. "You don't seem concerned."
"Because none of that changes anything." I step closer. "You can take the business. You can take my freedom. You can take everything I've built. I'll still choose her. Every single time."
"Even if she loses everything too? Her inheritance, her trust fund, her place in this family?"
"Ask her yourself. See what she says."
"I already know what she'll say." For the first time, something that isn't anger crosses his face. Something tired. Almost sad. "She told me this morning. Said if I made her choose, she'd choose you. That she'd walk away from all of it without looking back."
"She means it."
"I know she does. That's the problem." He pours another scotch, but doesn't drink it. Just stares at the glass. "Her mother was like that too. All or nothing. When she decided to leave, there was no negotiating, no compromise. She just... left."
I don't say anything. This isn't about me anymore.
"I kept waiting for Diamond to grow out of it," he continues. "The intensity, the impulsiveness. I thought if I just gave her space, she'd settle down. Find some nice hedge fund manager, have a society wedding, do what was expected." He shakes his head. "Instead she found you."
"Sorry to disappoint."
"Are you?" He looks at me. Really looks. "If I offered you ten million dollars right now to walk away, would you take it?"
