Simon opens his mouth, but no sound comes out.
"Malcolm doesn't make me feel small," Audrey continues, her voice dropping to a quiet, absolute certainty. "Malcolm makes me feel like I could burn this entire house down, and he would stand in the driveway and hand me the gasoline."
She turns her head. She looks at me.
The golden flecks in her eyes are burning. She isn't performing for my father. She isn't performing for Simon. She is looking directly at me, stripping away the lie of the contract in front of the two men who tried to destroy her.
"He isn't a monster to me, Simon," she says softly, her eyes never leaving mine. "He is the only honest man in this room."
My chest physically aches.
The breath leaves my lungs in a slow, ragged exhale. The urge to pull her out of her chair, walk out of this house, and take herback to the penthouse is so violent I have to grip the edge of the mahogany table just to stay anchored to the room.
Preston clears his throat. The sound is sharp, cutting through the heavy intimacy of the moment.
"How poetic," Preston sneers. He picks up his fork, slicing into the lamb on his plate. "A match made in corporate espionage. I suppose I should offer my congratulations."
"Keep them," I say, tearing my gaze away from Audrey to look at my father. "We didn't come here for your blessing."
"Then why did you come?" Preston asks, taking a bite of his food. He chews slowly, his eyes calculating. "You made your point, Malcolm. You proved you can protect her. You proved Simon is incompetent. What is the objective?"
"The objective is the engagement party," I reply.
Simon chokes on his wine. He sets the glass down hard, coughing into his napkin.
"My engagement party?" Simon asks, his voice hoarse. "You’re not coming to my engagement party."
"We are," I correct him smoothly. "It is a Vance family event. As a Vance, I am required to attend. And as my fiancée, Audrey will accompany me."
"Absolutely not," Preston says, dropping his fork. The metallic clatter rings out sharply. "I will not allow you to turn a society event into a circus. The press will be there. The board will be there."
"They will," I agree. "And they will see a united family. They will see Simon celebrating his upcoming nuptials, and they will see me celebrating mine. If you attempt to revoke my invitation, or ifyou attempt to bar Audrey from the premises, the press will ask questions. And I will answer them."
Preston stares at me. The veins in his neck are bulging again.
He is trapped. If he bans me from the party, the media will assume there is a massive fracture in the Vance holding company, which will tank the stock prices. If he allows me to attend, he has to watch Audrey parade around the room, a living, breathing reminder of his youngest son’s failure.
It is a perfect, inescapable checkmate.
"You are pushing me, Malcolm," Preston whispers.
"I am setting a boundary," I reply. I stand up, buttoning my suit jacket. "We will see you at the party, Father. Make sure the seating chart accommodates us."
I don't wait for him to respond. I look at Audrey and offer her my hand.
She doesn't hesitate. She places her hand in mine, her fingers wrapping tightly around mine. She stands up, the charcoal suit immaculate, her posture flawless.
We walk out of the dining room together.
I don't look back at Simon. I don't look back at Preston. I keep my eyes on the heavy wooden doors leading to the hallway, my hand firmly anchored to Audrey’s.
We walk down the long, silent corridor, past the expensive art and the vaulted ceilings. The butler opens the front doors before we reach them, his face a mask of professional indifference.
The cold night air hits us the moment we step outside.
The SUV is waiting at the bottom of the steps. Grant is standing by the open door, his eyes scanning the perimeter of the estate.
We walk down the steps in silence. I help Audrey into the back seat, sliding in right behind her. Grant shuts the door, sealing us in the dark, quiet interior of the car.
