I am sitting on the couch in a ratty t-shirt, my hair in a messy knot, clutching a glass of tap water like a shield. I have never felt more at a disadvantage in my entire life.
"How did you find me?" I ask. My voice trembles slightly, and I hate myself for it. I clear my throat and try again, forcing the tone to be sharper. "I didn't give you this address."
Malcolm doesn't answer immediately. He looks at Vivian. "Miss Hayes. I need twenty minutes with your friend. Privately."
Vivian looks at me, silently asking if she needs to call the police. I give her a tiny, reassuring nod, even though my stomach is doing backflips.
"I'll be in my bedroom," Vivian says, pointing a warning finger at Malcolm. "I have my phone. And I know a lot of judges."
"I'm terrified," Malcolm says flatly.
Vivian retreats into her room, shutting the door firmly behind her.
We are alone.
Malcolm looks down at the dog, who has trotted over to sniff his expensive leather shoes. Malcolm doesn't kick the dog away. He doesn't even flinch. He just reaches into his jacket, pulls out athick manila envelope, and drops it onto the coffee table, right next to his business card.
"You didn't call," he says, his gaze lifting to meet mine.
"It's nine-thirty in the morning," I snap, pulling my knees to my chest to hide my bare legs. "And I was still debating whether or not you were a hallucination brought on by cheap gin."
"I assure you, I am real." He unbuttons his suit jacket and sits down on the armchair opposite the sofa. He moves with a slow, deliberate grace that makes my skin prickle. "And I found you because my head of security tracked your car last night. You parked in a loading zone three blocks from here, by the way. It’s going to get towed by noon."
I stare at him, my mouth slightly open. "You tracked my car? Are you insane? That's stalking."
"It's logistics," he corrects smoothly, leaning back in the chair. "You have a problem. I have the solution. I don't like wasting time waiting for people to find their courage. Open the envelope, Audrey."
I look at the heavy envelope on the table. It looks like a trap. It feels like a trap.
But the memory of Simon’s smug face yesterday morning—the way he smiled when he told the security guard to escort me out of my own building—burns through the hangover fog.
I reach forward, pick up the envelope, and pull out a stack of stapled documents.
It’s a contract. The legal jargon is dense, but the bold heading at the top is clear enough:Mutual Benefit and Non-Disclosure Agreement.
"What is this?" I ask, my eyes scanning the first page.
"It’s exactly what we discussed," Malcolm says, his voice dropping to that low, quiet register that makes me want to lean in. "You want to ruin Simon. I want to ruin Simon. But I cannot simply walk into his engagement party and punch him in the jaw. It lacks finesse, and it causes problems for my firm’s board of directors."
"So?"
"So, we use you." Malcolm rests his elbows on the armrests, steepling his fingers. "Simon’s entire identity is built on the illusion that he is the smartest, most successful man in the room. He discarded you because he thought you were no longer useful. We are going to prove him wrong."
I flip to the second page. My eyes catch a number under theCompensationclause. I blink, sure I’m reading it wrong. I count the zeros.
"This..." I swallow hard, my throat dry again. "This is enough money to buy my firm back from his holding company twice over."
"It’s a standard consulting fee," Malcolm says dismissively, as if we are talking about the price of a sandwich. "Upon completion of the contract, the funds will be transferred to a segregated escrow account in your name, completely untouchable by Simon or his lawyers."
My hands start to shake. I grip the paper tighter to hide it.
I could start over. I wouldn't have to sleep on a couch that smells like wet dog. I wouldn't have to start from zero. I could take my life back.
"And what do I have to do for this 'consulting fee'?" I ask, looking up at him suspiciously. "Because nobody hands over this kind of money just to annoy their little brother."
Malcolm’s dark eyes lock onto mine. The temperature in the room seems to drop.
"You are going to put my ring on your finger," he says slowly, every word carrying a heavy, undeniable weight. "You are going to stand by my side at every Vance family event for the next six months. You are going to smile at the cameras, you are going to look at me like I am the center of your universe, and you are going to let Simon realize that the woman he threw away is now untouchable."
