Chapter 3
The penthouse suite of the Rowe Meridian Tower smelled of cedar, old leather, and rain against glass.
Outside, the Briarhaven skyline twinkled like a circuit board dropped against the velvet dark of night. Inside, the atmosphere was thick enough to cut with a diamond wire.
Everett stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows, a crystal tumbler of scotch resting untouched in his hand. He hadn't touched a drop of alcohol since Willa had fallen asleep on the velvet sofa in his private office downstairs, exhausted by the emotional turbulence of the afternoon.
Mara sat stiffly on the edge of a minimalist gray sofa ten feet away. Her hands were folded tightly in her lap. Her faded denim jacket looked painfully out of place against the museum-grade modern art and custom designer furniture that defined Everett’s private domain.
The heavy oak door swung open, and Everett didn't turn around immediately. He didn't have to. The crisp, haughty click of heels on hardwood announced his aunt’s entrance.
“You’ve lost your mind, Everett,” Celeste said, walking straight to the bar without an invitation, pouring herself a finger of bourbon. “Bringing a diner waitress and a bastard child into the executive suite? Do you have any idea what the press is going to do with this? The Harborstone board is already calling me asking if the merger is compromised.”
Everett turned slowly. His face was carved from granite. The surgical scar along his abdomen pulled slightly, a dull ache he barely registered beneath the roaring fire of fury in his chest.
“The Harborstone merger can go to hell, Celeste,” Everett said softly.
Celeste stopped mid-sip, her eyes narrowing. “Watch your tone, Everett. I raised you after your parents died. I built this company beside you. You cannot afford a scandal right now. The board votes on your continued chairmanship in seventy-two hours. If word gets out that you fathered a child out of wedlock with a nobody from New Jersey—a woman you didn't even acknowledge—they will strip you of your voting rights faster than you can blink.”
Everett took two slow, measured steps toward her. The sheer physical presence of the man—tall, broad-shouldered, radiating an aura of lethal dominance—forced Celeste to take a half-step back despite herself.
“You knew,” Everett said.
Celeste stiffened. “What are you talking about?”
“Don't play games with me,” Everett snarled, his voice dropping an octave, vibrating with controlled rage. “You knew Mara was in Briarhaven. You were the one who authorized her appointment with corporate legal regarding the ‘unauthorized tenant dispute’ at her old building. You intercepted her paperwork. You had her file routed directly to the executive floor today. You wanted her to walk into that boardroom while the press was gathered downstairs for the quarterly earnings call.”
Celeste’s chin jutted out defiantly. “I wanted to see how you would handle a crisis that couldn't be bought off with a severance package! I wanted to test your focus, Everett. And you failed miserably over a child you didn't even know existed twenty-four hours ago.”
“She is my daughter,” Everett roared, the sound echoing against the glass walls like thunder.
Downstairs, a sleepy murmur drifted from the adjoining room, and Everett instantly cut himself off, his fierce expression softening into a mask of desperate restraint. He took a deep breath, forcing his voice back down to a dangerous whisper.
“Listen to me very carefully, Aunt Celeste,” Everett said, leaning in so close his aunt could see the flecks of gold in his dark, furious eyes. “If you ever come near Mara or Willa again—if you so much as whisper a word of this to a single reporter—I will dismantle every trust fund, freeze every asset, and revoke every board privilege you hold. I will leave you with nothing but the clothes on your back. Am I understood?”
Celeste stared at him, her chest heaving with outrage and sudden, creeping terror. She saw the absolute, terrifying truth in his eyes. He wasn't bluffing. The cold, calculating billionaire had been replaced by a father who would gladly burn his entire empire to ash to protect his child.
May you like
Without another word, Celeste slammed her glass down on the counter, turned on her heel, and stormed out of the penthouse, slamming the heavy door behind her.
Everett let out a long, ragged breath. He rubbed the back of his neck, exhaustion finally crashing over him like a physical wave. He turned and walked slowly toward the private family quarters, where a little gray rabbit and a sleeping three-year-old waited in the dark.
