Chapter 23
The discovery in his study changed everything.
My survival is no longer a given; it’s a conditional state, a tightrope I have to walk every single day. My fear is a constant, low-grade hum beneath my skin, a second heartbeat.
But fear, I am learning, is a phenomenal motivator.
I throw myself into the work at Donovan I am a student of my captor.
I study his methods, his logic, his ruthlessness.
I learn to think like him, to anticipate his moves, to see the world through his eyes.
The flirtatious, playful dynamic is gone, replaced by a sharp, professional focus that he seems to find even more compelling.
A week after my midnight discovery, my old life makes an unwelcome intrusion. I’m at my desk, reviewing a complex international trade agreement, when my phone buzzes. The screen displays a number I thought I had blocked, a ghost from a past I am desperately trying to outrun.
Marcus.
My first instinct is to decline the call, to smash the phone against the wall again. But curiosity, a dark and dangerous impulse, gets the better of me. I answer, but I don't speak.
“Liv? Olivia, are you there?” His voice is a frantic, worried whisper. It’s a tone I’ve never heard from him before, stripped of its usual arrogance.
“What do you want, Marcus?” I say, my voice flat and cold.
“Thank God,” he breathes, a wave of relief in his voice. “I’ve been trying to reach you. I’ve been so worried.”
“I told you not to worry about me,” I say. “I’m fine.”
“No, you’re not,” he insists, his voice dropping.
“Liv, I’ve been doing some digging. This firm, Donovan it's a statement of fact. "He gave us everything. The meeting you were present for. The threats. The conspiracy surrounding Arthur Vance."
So, the other shoe finally dropped. This isn't a fishing expedition; it's a targeted strike. They leveraged the terror of one man to build a case, and now they're here to burn the empire down to its foundations.
"We have a warrant for all documents related to the Meridian acquisition," she continues, stepping fully into my office, her presence a violation of this sacred space. "Racketeering, extortion, and conspiracy to commit murder."
She softens her expression, a practiced, tactical shift. The predator soothing its prey before the kill. This is the pitch. "This is your exit ramp, Olivia. Right here, right now." Her eyes try to find a crack in my armor. "Walk out of here with us. This is the only way you get out from under him."
My gaze drifts past her, through the pristine glass of my office to the chaos unfolding beyond.
A conquering army in navy blue, moving with brutal efficiency.
Far below, the city lights are fractured by the strobing red and blue of their vehicles.
She's offering me a door to another life.
A gray, anonymous existence in witness protection, forever looking over my shoulder.
A life without power. A life without him.
My mind doesn't race. It stills.
It achieves a perfect, cold clarity. There is no high-speed calculation. The math was done long ago.
I think of the names in his files—Amelia, Catherine, Isabelle. I think of my mother, a pawn he could sacrifice at any moment without a second thought. These aren't threats I need to escape. They are the rules of the game I chose to play.
Agent Jennings is watching me, waiting. She thinks she sees a victim, a brilliant lawyer trapped by a monster, just waiting for a hero to offer a hand. She’s looking at a ghost.
She has no fucking idea what I’ve become.
I take a slow breath, letting it fill my lungs with the cold, recycled air of the kingdom I helped build. I meet her gaze, and the woman who was Olivia Sutton—idealistic, frightened, breakable—dissolves into nothing.
“Agent Jennings,” I say, my voice as calm and sharp as shattered ice.
“I have never been present for any discussion of illegal activities.” I let a beat of silence hang in the air, weighted and dangerous.
“You and your agents have sixty seconds to vacate my office before I file a motion for damages against the federal government for this frivolous and theatrical display of harassment.”
I turn away from her, a dismissal more profound than any insult, and look toward my desk.
"Now, if you'll excuse me," I say over my shoulder, my voice leaving no room for argument.