Grant doesn’t reply immediately. He taps his thick fingers against the steering wheel, navigating the late-night traffic. Grant has been with me for six years. He knows the difference between a job I take for the firm and a job I take for myself. This is the latter.
"Did she take the bait?" he asks.
"She took the card." I look out the tinted window, watching the streetlights blur into streaks of yellow. "She’ll call by tomorrow afternoon. The alcohol will wear off, the reality of her financial ruin will set in, and she’ll realize she has exactly zero options."
I don’t say it with pride. It’s a simple, ugly fact.
Simon made sure of it.
My younger brother has always been a parasite, but his latest stunt was impressive even for his low standards. He didn’t just cheat on Audrey. He meticulously dismantled her life. He convinced her to put the lease of her architecture firm under his holding company, drained the operating accounts, and locked her out of the building. Then, he proposed to Chloe, the twenty-three-year-old receptionist from his downtown office, ensuring the Vance family name remained tied to a compliant, easily manipulated trophy wife.
My father, naturally, approved of the move. Preston Vance despises weakness, and in his eyes, Audrey’s fatal flaw was trusting the man she was sleeping with.
I pull the lighter from my pocket and flick the lid open.Clack.I close it.Clack.
"You want me to draft the standard non-disclosure agreement?" Grant asks, breaking the silence as we merge onto the highway heading toward the Gold Coast.
"No." I stop spinning the lighter. "Draft a contract. Full engagement protocols. I want the standard clauses for public appearances, media compliance, and asset protection. But add a residential requirement."
Grant’s eyes flick to the mirror again. This time, they stay there a fraction of a second longer. "Residential requirement. You mean the safe house in the suburbs?"
"I mean the penthouse."
The car drifts slightly before Grant corrects the steering wheel. It’s the closest thing to a physical reaction I’ve seen from him in months.
"You want her living with you," Grant says, his tone carefully neutral. "In your personal residence. The one you don't even let the cleaning staff enter without supervision."
"Yes."
"Sir, with all due respect, bringing a civilian into your primary location is a security risk. Especially a civilian who has a personal vendetta against your family. She’s volatile."
"She’s angry," I correct him, my voice dropping a fraction. "There is a difference. Volatile people make mistakes. Angry people burn the world down. I just need to hand her the matches."
Grant sighs, a heavy, tired sound. "And what happens when your father finds out you’re harboring Simon’s ex-fiancée? The engagement party is in four weeks. The board is already scrutinizing your division."
"Let them scrutinize." I turn my gaze back to the window. "My father built his empire on the concept of leverage. He taught Simon how to take what he wants and discard the rest. It’s time someone taught Simon the consequences of leaving his garbage in my city."
I don’t elaborate. I don’t need to. Grant knows the history. He knows the scars I carry, both the visible ones on my back and theinvisible ones that dictate every choice I make. The Vance family is not a family. It is a corporation masquerading as a bloodline. I am the enforcer. Simon is the golden boy.
For thirty years, I have cleaned up their messes. I have buried their scandals, paid off their mistakes, and stood in the shadows while they smiled for the cameras.
But Simon made a mistake when he ruined Audrey Jennings.
He left a weapon lying on the ground, fully loaded and pointed directly at his own chest. He just didn’t realize I would be the one to pick it up.
We arrive at my building twenty minutes later. It’s a sleek, brutalist tower of glass and steel overlooking Lake Michigan. I own the top three floors. The private elevator requires a retinal scan and a biometric keycard, a level of security that borders on paranoia.
"I’ll have the contract drafted by 8:00 AM," Grant says as I step out of the SUV. "Do you want me to run another background sweep on her? Just to be sure there are no hidden debts Simon left behind?"
"Do it. And find out where she parked her car tonight. Send someone to keep an eye on it."
Grant nods once and pulls the door shut.
I step into the private elevator. The doors slide closed, cutting off the sound of the engine. As the car shoots upward, the silence of the enclosed space presses against my ears.
I close my eyes.
I can still feel the exact moment my hand covered hers at the bar.
