41. Christopher
41
Christopher
L ucy is sitting across from me in the private waiting room, tablet open. The eleven o’clock emergency session with the Hammond & Co. board went well. I had wanted her to go in person, but she refused to leave the hospital, and instead attended via teleconference.
The board ratified her appointment as permanent CEO after Morgan’s little coup attempt failed.
Fucker.
And now she’s prepping for the next meeting, the one where she has to lay out her actual strategy beyond just surviving the initial power grab.
She’s chewing on her lower lip, a small frown creasing her brow as she scrolls through financial projections. She looks… preoccupied. More than just the usual stress. There’s a new intensity there, a laser focus on proving herself, on embodying this role she never asked for but now fully owns.
“It’s just a title, Lucy,” I say quietly, breaking the silence. “CEO, Interim CEO… the job hasn’t changed overnight. You were already doing it. ”
She looks up, her expression distant. “It feels different.”
“It shouldn’t,” I counter. “Nothing has to change between us because of a title.” I try to keep the edge out of my voice, but her sudden preoccupation, this subtle veil descending… it grates. We navigated corporate warfare, family sabotage, her father’s fucking near death.
A title shouldn’t be the thing that creates distance.
She gives a vague nod, her eyes already drifting back to the screen. “I know. Just… a lot to process.”
Distance. Definitely distance. Is this her putting up professional boundaries already? Raising her own walls? Or is this just the weight of the world landing squarely on her shoulders?
Fucking hell, I hate not knowing. Not being in control of the variables.
Fuck. I’m supposed to be the one raising the walls.
Not climbing them.
Before I can push further, her phone buzzes violently on the table. Then mine.
Tatiana’s text alert pings simultaneously.
Multiple breaking news notifications.
My blood runs cold before I even read the headlines flashing across the phone.
‘Mark Blackwell Launches Hostile Takeover Bid for Ailing Hammond & Co.’
‘Blackwell Sr. Cites Leadership Instability Following Hammond CEO Health Crisis.’
‘Questions Raised Over Emergency CEO Appointment of Lucy Hammond.’
Son of a bitch .
My father. That manipulative, vindictive bastard. He didn’t just sever ties. He went straight for the fucking jugular. And he used Lucy’s appointment, the very thing Richard insisted on from his hospital bed, as the public justification. A move calculated to inflict maximum damage, professionally and personally.
“No,” Lucy whispers, staring at her phone, her face draining of color. “He wouldn’t… not now…”
“He would,” I snarl, already dialing his number, my thumb stabbing the screen. Rage, pure and undiluted, burns through me.
He answers on the first ring, his voice infuriatingly calm.
“Timing is everything, Christopher,” he says before I can even speak.
“You fucking coward,” I spit out, keeping my voice low despite the fury threatening to choke me. “Using her appointment, using Richard’s health…”
“It’s just business,” he replies smoothly. “Hammond is vulnerable. An inexperienced CEO creates instability. A perfect opportunity for consolidation under proven leadership. The markets will understand. The board already does. I’ve been laying the groundwork for weeks, ever since you started showing… weakness. You think it’s a coincidence that the board ratified her appointment so easily? It was all part of the plan.”
Weeks. He planned this for weeks. While pretending to argue strategy with me. While watching me get closer to Lucy. Calculating the perfect moment to strike.
My own fucking father.
“This isn’t over,” I bite out.
“Oh, I know,” he says, a hint of satisfaction in his voice. “It’s just beginning.”
He hangs up.
I stare at my phone, my hand clenched so tight the casing creaks. Weeks. He used me. Used the situation. All to orchestrate this attack, aimed as much at me as at Hammond & Co.
Lucy looks utterly devastated, but there’s a flicker of steel returning to her eyes. “I need… I need to check on Dad. Then I need to get to the office.”
She disappears into Richard’s room for a few minutes.
I use the time to call Tatiana. “Mobilize the crisis response team. Full analysis of Mark’s takeover strategy, vulnerabilities, potential defenses. I want options yesterday.”
Elijah appears at the doorway, already relaying instructions into his earpiece. My security personnel and Lucy’s are instantly on high alert.
Lucy returns, looking pale but resolute. “Dad’s okay. Worried, obviously. But he… he told me to go save the company. Said this was my moment.” Her voice trembles slightly on the last word.
“He’s right,” I say firmly. “Let’s go.”
We practically run out of the hospital, Darius and Rebecca flanking Lucy, Elijah and Maya with me. They break off into their respective SUVs, and we all speed towards Hammond headquarters, weaving through traffic.
In the tense silence of my sedan, Lucy suddenly turns to me, her blue eyes searching mine, direct and piercing.
“Did you know, Christopher?” she asks quietly. “Anything about this? Did you know he was planning it?”
The question hangs there, heavy with unspoken implication. Distrust wouldn’t be unwarranted, given our beginnings, given who my father is. But looking into her eyes, seeing the fragile hurt there …
“No,” I say, my voice absolute. Vehement. “On my life, Lucy, I had no idea he would pull this shit. I knew he was angry, trying to undermine me on my own board, but a hostile takeover with his own company? Using your appointment as justification? No. I swear to you.”
Fuck. Does she believe me? Can she?
Considering I was the one drawing up the hostile takeover blueprints for Hammond & Co. not long ago?
That was the goddamn plan until she walked into that tech expo looking like fucking sunshine armed with a business degree and scrambled my circuits completely.
Still, she knows my reputation. The Executioner doesn’t just bury the ax. People assume he’s simply waiting for the right moment to swing it again.
Wouldn’t blame her for a second if she thought this was some elaborate, twisted play, another Blackwell betrayal, maybe even orchestrated by me.
She searches my face for another second, then the tension drains from her shoulders. She believes me. Without hesitation.
A small, fierce part of me thrills at that absolute trust, even now, in the face of this disaster.
She reaches out, squeezes my hand briefly. A gesture of solidarity.
Us against them.
I exhale a breath I didn’t fucking realize I was holding.
The Hammond & Co. headquarters is chaos. Phones ringing off the hook. Staff looking panicked. Board members are already gathered in the main conference room, the air thick with fear and recrimination.
Lucy squares her shoulders, walking in like she owns the place, even though internally she must be terrified.
I follow close behind.
Our respective security details remain outside.
“Lucy! Thank God!” Mr. Abernathy rushes forward. “What do we do? A hostile takeover by Blackwell Senior…”
“We fight,” Lucy says, her voice clear and steady, cutting through the panic. “We have a strong partnership agreement with Blackwell Innovations . We have resources. We need a strategy, now.”
They gather around the table, ready to dive into crisis mode.
Morgan Weiss is there, the snake, looking pale but with a predatory gleam in his eyes. He sees opportunity in this chaos.
Fucking parasite.
As Lucy takes her place at the head of the table, her place now, Morgan clears his throat pointedly.
“Lucy,” he begins, his tone smooth but challenging. “While we appreciate Mr. Christopher Blackwell’s… support… perhaps his presence isn’t entirely appropriate during this particular strategy session? Given that the hostile party is his father, representing the founding name of Blackwell interests…”
He lets the implication hang there.
Conflict of interest.
The room falls silent. All eyes turn to Lucy. It’s a test. Her first real test as permanent CEO. Can she command the room? Can she make the tough call, even if it involves me?
I see the conflict in her eyes. The hesitation. She looks at me, her expression torn. I give her nothing. No nod, no hint.
This has to be her decision .
Her authority to establish.
She takes a deep breath, her posture straightening, embodying the CEO title she just signed for.
“Morgan has a point,” she says, her voice firm, betraying none of the turmoil I know she feels.
She looks directly at me, her gaze steady, professional, but with an underlying sadness that cuts deeper than any anger could. “Christopher, thank you for coming, for your support. But this is a Hammond & Co. strategy meeting regarding a threat from… Blackwell interests. For legal and strategic clarity, perhaps it’s best if we proceed internally for now.”
A polite dismissal. A necessary boundary.
A fucking stake through my heart.
She’s right. Logically, professionally, she’s absolutely right.
But hearing the words, seeing her choose the company, choose her role, over us in this critical moment… it feels like a physical blow.
I nod curtly, masking the sudden hollowness inside.
“Understood.” I stand up and leave the boardroom.
In the hallway outside, her voice stops me. “Christopher, wait.”
I turn back. She’s followed me out into the corridor, leaving the stunned board members behind for a second.
“I need you to understand,” she says quickly, her voice low, urgent. “I believe you. One hundred percent. I know you didn’t know about this.” Her eyes plead for me to understand. “But I am the CEO now. I can’t strategize how to fight off a Blackwell takeover, even if it’s your father, with the CEO of Blackwell Innovations sitting at the table. The conflict… it’s impossible. Can’t you see?” She touches my arm, her touch burning through my jacket. “This position… proving I can do it, saving the company… it’s everything I’ve worked for, everything Dad sacrificed for. But it means… it means...”
She bites her lip, unable to say the words. But I know precisely what she wanted to say.
We’re done.
She’s giving up on us.
“I see,” I reply, my voice flat. And I do. I really do.
I see her standing tall, making the impossible choice I practically pushed her towards. I see the leader emerging, forged in fire.
And I see the chasm opening between us, created not by distrust, but by the very positions we now hold.
She looks devastated but resolute. “I have to go back in there.”
“I know.”
She gives my arm one last squeeze, then turns and walks back into the boardroom, leaving me standing alone in the hallway. I watch her go, watch her square her shoulders and become the CEO Hammond needs.
At the cost of us.
I exit the building.
Elijah materializes beside me. “Sir?”
“I’m going home, Elijah,” I say numbly.
Back in the sterile silence of my penthouse, the full weight of it hits me.
My father’s perfect fucking timing. He didn’t just launch a takeover. He created an impossible choice for Lucy. Forcing her to choose between her professional duty, her hard-won position, and her personal feelings for me.
A choice where, inevitably, our relationship becomes the casualty.
Why didn’t I fight her on it? Like I did last time she tried to push me away? When she felt guilt over my failing relationship with my father?
I shut that shit down immediately.
Possessive. Controlling.
Refusing to let her go.
But this… this is different. That was her misplaced guilt. This is her choice. Her decision as CEO.
The role I encouraged her to take, told her she deserved. How can I undermine her authority, her first act of decisive leadership, by refusing to respect her boundaries?
How can I stand in the way of her finally proving herself, finally achieving the success she deserves, even if it means she has to let me go to do it?
I wanted her to shine. With all my fucking heart.
If this is the cost… then this is the cost.
But fuck, it hurts .
A deep, aching void opens up inside me, familiar and terrifying. The echo of abandonment. My mother walking away.
Now Lucy, choosing her duty over me.
Maybe they all leave in the end.
Maybe I’m destined to be alone, surrounded by wealth and power, but utterly fucking alone.
A bitter laugh escapes me. I pour myself a scotch, neat. The burn does nothing to numb the ache.
I’ll throw myself back into work, of course. Build higher walls. Be more ruthless. Crush my father’s takeover attempt, not for Hammond, but for the sheer fucking principle of it now.
I’ll protect my empire.
Expand it.
Become the predator everyone always thought I was.
But inside, I’ll be dead.
Guess I’ll turn into my father after all, then.
The thought lands with sickening finality.
Alone with my money. Surrounded by material things. Living a hollow life.
Just like him.