"I am entirely rational," Malcolm says. He shifts his weight slightly, placing himself half an inch more between me and his father. It’s a protective gesture, subtle but undeniable. "Audrey and I are engaged."
Preston’s eyes drop to my left hand. He stares at the vintage diamond.
The silence that follows is heavy enough to crack the marble floor.
I watch the realization hit Preston. He recognizes the ring. The heirloom he wanted for Simon. The legacy he tried to control. Malcolm didn't just bring me here as a prop; he brought me here wearing the one thing Preston couldn't buy.
"You are playing a very dangerous game," Preston says, his voice dropping to a lethal whisper. The polite society mask completely shatters.
"It’s not a game," Malcolm replies, his tone matching his father’s. "It’s a notification. Simon made a mess in my city. I am cleaning it up."
"She is a liability." Preston points a finger at me, though he doesn't look at me. "She is a broke, desperate woman looking for a payout. If you think I am going to allow you to drag the Vance name through the mud because you want to punish your brother—"
"You don't allow me to do anything," Malcolm interrupts.
The words are spoken quietly, but they hit like a physical blow.
Preston stops talking. The two guards standing ten feet away stiffen, their hands dropping toward their waists.
"I run the security division," Malcolm continues, his dark eyes locked on his father. "I hold the encrypted files for the offshore accounts. I know exactly where the zoning permits for the South Side project were forged. You do not control me, Preston. You never have. You just convinced yourself that you did because I allowed it."
Preston’s face turns a mottled shade of red. The veins in his neck bulge against the collar of his shirt.
"You are making a mistake," Preston hisses. "Simon is family. She is nothing."
"She is wearing my ring," Malcolm says. The absolute, terrifying finality in his voice makes the hair on my arms stand up. "If you, or Simon, or anyone on your payroll approaches her, speaks to her, or looks at her without my permission, I will not just cut Simon off. I will dismantle the holding company, and I will hand the pieces to the SEC."
Preston stares at his son. For the first time, I see a flicker of genuine uncertainty in the older man’s eyes. He is trying to calculate if Malcolm is bluffing.
He isn't. I can feel the tension radiating from Malcolm’s body. He is entirely prepared to burn his own family to the ground right here in the museum.
Preston takes a slow, deep breath, regaining his composure. He adjusts his suit jacket, the mask of the untouchable billionaire sliding back into place.
"We will discuss this in private," Preston says coldly.
"There is nothing to discuss." Malcolm places his hand on the small of my back. "Enjoy the gala, Father."
Malcolm doesn't wait for a response. He turns, guiding me away from the pillar and toward the main exit of the hall.
I don't look back. I keep my eyes fixed on the heavy wooden doors leading to the lobby. My legs feel like they are made of lead. The adrenaline is crashing, leaving behind a cold, shaky exhaustion.
We walk through the lobby, past the coat check, and out into the freezing Chicago night.
The SUV is waiting at the curb. Grant opens the door before we even reach the pavement.
I slide into the back seat, the emerald silk rustling loudly in the quiet car. Malcolm gets in next to me. The door shuts, cutting off the sound of the city.
The privacy partition is already up. The car pulls away from the curb smoothly.
I lean my head back against the leather headrest, closing my eyes. My chest is rising and falling too fast.
"He’s going to come after me," I whisper into the dark.
"No." Malcolm’s voice is hard. "He won't."
"You threatened him with the SEC, Malcolm. You threatened to destroy his company. Men like that don't just back down. He’s going to find a way to break the contract. He’s going to dig into my life—"
"Audrey."
