Chapter 26 Pierce
PIERCE
I glance at the desk outside my office and don’t like that it’s empty. The only evidence of Thatcher is a stack of sticky-note pads and the potted plant where Anthony allegedly lives.
The publisher he connected with at the conference got in touch with him yesterday, asking for a meeting today. I want him here with me, but my desire to see the man I love succeed overruled my selfishness for once, and I gave him the day off so he could prepare for the meeting.
This is what it’ll be like when he’s out there being a successful artist, books with his illustrations gracing the shelves of bookstores around the country.
Someone else will be sitting in his chair.
My files and reports will no longer come with personalized doodles and encouraging notes.
A dull pain settles in my chest. I press against it with my hand, but it doesn’t get better.
Get it together, Dellcourt. He’s just in a meeting. It doesn’t mean anything.
But the problem is that I want it to mean everything. I want him to get the publishing deal. I want him to follow his dreams. But I also want him near me. I want lunch breaks with him, and I want to see the little dance he does in his chair when he ticks a task off his to-do list.
What the fuck is wrong with me?
I force myself to go back to spreadsheets that, for the first time in my life, have lost their appeal.
Two o’clock approaches like an inevitable storm. I get to the conference room early, settling into my usual seat and arranging my materials with more care than necessary. The real financial documents sit in a neat stack beside me, ready to counter whatever James is about to present.
Lior enters looking calm and composed, greeting the board members with his usual professional warmth. Only I can see the slight tension in his shoulders, the way his eyes briefly meet mine with a look that says everything is in place.
“Where’s Thatcher today?” Tina asks, glancing at the empty chair beside me.
“Publisher meeting,” I reply, trying to keep the pride out of my voice. “Professional development opportunity.”
“Good for him,” she says warmly. “That young man has real talent. As much as I love to get his messages filled with colorful sticky notes, his talent is wasted as a personal assistant.”
At exactly two p.m., James strides into the room with the confidence of a man who believes he holds all the winning cards. He’s followed by his legal team and an assistant carrying presentation materials.
“Thank you all for accommodating this meeting,” James begins, his smile sharp as he moves to the head of the table.
“I understand this isn’t standard protocol in these types of negotiations, but what I have to share today will fundamentally change how you view VSE’s future.
You’ll soon understand why it’s vital that we move swiftly. ”
Thornton leans forward with obvious interest, and I have to suppress the urge to smile. He has no idea he’s about to be exposed.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” James continues, activating his presentation screen, “VSE is in crisis.”
The first slide shows financial projections that I recognize immediately as the fake documents we planted. James presents them with dramatic flair, pointing to cash-flow problems and debt ratios that paint VSE as a company on the brink of collapse.
“These documents,” James says, his voice carrying false concern, “show a company hemorrhaging money, losing key partnerships, and facing potential bankruptcy within eighteen months.”
Several board members shift uncomfortably. Beatrice Pratchett frowns at the numbers. “These figures seem…extreme, James. Our quarterly reports show healthy growth.”
“Quarterly reports can be misleading,” James replies smoothly, advancing to the next slide. “These internal projections tell the real story. Look at these partnership losses—Sunside Industries, Patterson Logistics, Coastal Distribution. All major revenue streams, gone.”
“But we renegotiated those contracts,” board member Paulson interjects. “At better terms.”
“Did you?” James’s smile turns predatory. “Or were you forced to accept inferior arrangements to prevent total loss? Sometimes maintaining a relationship at any cost is worse than losing it entirely.”
I have to admire his strategy, even as I despise him for it. He’s taking real business decisions and twisting them into evidence of weakness.
“Furthermore,” James continues, “VSE’s management structure has become…questionable. Nepotism in hiring practices, questionable decision-making, and leadership that prioritizes personal relationships over business acumen.”
Thornton nods gravely. “I’ve observed some concerning patterns,” he says, playing his role perfectly. “Perhaps we should consider Mr. Dellcourt’s proposal seriously. For the good of the company.”
“The solution,” James says, advancing to his final slide, “is an immediate merger with Dellcourt Enterprises. We can absorb VSE’s debt, stabilize operations, and preserve jobs. Without this intervention, I’m afraid VSE won’t survive the next fiscal year.”
Pratchett looks troubled. “The timeline you’re suggesting is very aggressive, James. Mergers of this magnitude typically require months of due diligence.”
“Under normal circumstances, yes,” James agrees. “But these aren’t normal circumstances. VSE is hemorrhaging money daily. Every day we delay is another day closer to collapse.”
This is it. The moment we’ve been waiting for.
Lior stands slowly, his expression unreadable. “Thank you, James, for your…concern about VSE’s welfare. However, I think there might be some confusion about our actual financial position.”
He activates his own presentation, and the real numbers fill the screen. Healthy cash flow, strong partnerships, growth projections that show VSE thriving.
“These are VSE’s actual financials,” Lior says calmly. “Audited, verified, and quite different from what James has presented.”
The room erupts in murmurs. James’s confident expression falters for the first time.
“I don’t understand,” Pratchett says, looking between the two presentations. “These numbers are completely different. James, where did you obtain your information?”
“My sources are reliable—” James starts, but his voice has lost its earlier certainty.
“Your source,” Lior interrupts, his voice carrying steel now, “is sitting at this table.”
The silence that follows is deafening. Every head turns, scanning the faces around the table. Thornton has gone pale.
“That’s a serious accusation,” Pratchett says slowly. “Are you suggesting someone on this board has been leaking confidential information?”
“I’m not suggesting it,” Lior replies. “I’m stating it as fact.”
He activates another slide. Security footage fills the screen. It’s grainy but clear enough to show Thornton entering my office at seven forty-seven p.m. last Friday, going through my desk, photographing documents with his phone.
“Richard Thornton,” Lior says quietly, “has been feeding Dellcourt Holdings information for months. Information that, as of last week, became deliberately falsified to test our suspicions.”
The room explodes in shocked voices. Thornton’s face crumbles. “I… This is… You can’t prove…”
“The time stamp on the footage matches exactly with when these false documents were accessed,” Lior continues relentlessly.
“Corporate espionage. Breach of fiduciary duty. Violation of your board member agreement.” His smile is razor-sharp.
“Grounds for immediate dismissal and potential criminal charges.”
“Richard,” Pratchett breathes, looking genuinely hurt. “How could you?”
“The company was being run into the ground!” Thornton explodes, his composure finally shattering. “Lior’s too young, too inexperienced. He’s making decisions based on emotion rather than business sense. Someone had to act!”
“By betraying your fiduciary duty?” Paulson demands. “By selling company secrets?”
“You set me up,” James snarls at Lior, his own mask slipping completely.
“You set yourself up,” I say, speaking for the first time since the meeting began. “The moment you decided to attack this company through lies and manipulation, you made yourself our enemy.”
“This isn’t over,” James threatens, gathering his materials with sharp, angry movements. “You think you’ve won, but this is just the beginning.”
“No,” Lior says calmly, pressing a button on the conference phone. “It’s the end. Security will escort you both out. And, James? Any further attempts to interfere with VSE’s operations will result in restraining orders and harassment charges.”
Security enters as if they’ve been waiting outside. James leaves with his dignity in tatters, his legal team hurrying after him. Thornton follows under escort, his twenty-year career ending in disgrace and betrayal.
The remaining board members sit in stunned silence until Pratchett speaks. “Well,” she says dryly, “that was certainly educational. Lior, I assume you have recommendations for Thornton’s replacement?”
“I do,” Lior replies. “But first, let’s address what just happened. VSE’s actual financial position is strong, our growth is sustainable, and our future is secure. James’s attack failed because it was based on lies and corporate espionage.”
The meeting takes another twenty minutes to conclude, with board members asking questions about security protocols and expressing their confidence in Lior’s leadership. When the last member finally leaves, it’s just Lior and me in the empty conference room.
“That went better than expected,” I say, loosening my tie for the first time all day.
“Much better.” Lior begins packing up his materials, but his expression grows serious. “But, Pierce, we need to talk about what comes next.”
“James is finished. Thornton’s gone. What else is there?”
“Your brother isn’t a man who accepts defeat gracefully,” Lior says, echoing my own thoughts. “Which means he’s going to play dirty. Look for other ways to hurt you, and hurt this company.”
The unease I’ve been suppressing all day surfaces again. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying James will look for vulnerabilities. Personal ones.” Lior’s eyes meet mine with uncomfortable directness. “Your relationship with Thatcher, for instance.”
My blood runs cold.
“Pierce, anyone who’s spent five minutes watching you two together can make the correct assumptions.” Lior’s voice is gentle but firm. “So far, the truth is contained within the family, but it won’t take a smart person long to figure out you’re not just boss and employee.”
“Fuck.”
Lior sits back down, his expression grave. “You need to transfer Thatcher to another department. Or let him go entirely. Before James finds out and uses it against you.”
The suggestion hits me like a physical blow, but then a solution begins to form. “Actually,” I say slowly, “that might be exactly what we need to do.”
“What do you mean?”
“If he leaves VSE—officially ends the workplace relationship—then there’s no conflict of interest anymore.” The idea gains momentum as I speak. “James can’t use our relationship as ammunition if Thatcher doesn’t work here. And then…”
“Then what?”
“Then I can be with him. Properly. No hiding, no professional complications.” The possibility makes my chest tight with hope. “I can tell him how I feel without worrying about power dynamics or company policies.”
Lior’s expression grows concerned. “Pierce, you’re assuming he’ll want to leave. What if he doesn’t?”
The question stops me cold. “What do you mean?”
“Thatcher loves working here. He’s found his place, made friends, and proven himself professionally. And more importantly, he needs this job. You have family money to fall back on. He doesn’t.” Lior’s voice is gentle but firm. “You can’t just assume he’ll choose love over financial security.”
“But I—” The reality hits me like a sledgehammer.
Of course Thatcher won’t want to leave. This job represents everything he’s worked for.
Stability, respect, a chance to prove himself.
His family has always doubted him, and VSE is where he’s finally succeeded.
And he certainly won’t want financial help from me. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying you need to be prepared for the possibility that he’ll choose his career over your relationship. And if he does…” Lior pauses. “Then you’ll have to choose between being with him and ending things entirely. Because you can’t keep working together like this.”
The weight of it settles on my shoulders. Either I convince the man I love to give up his job, or I lose him entirely.
“Fuck,” I breathe.
“I’m sorry, Pierce. But those are your options.”
As I walk back to my office, the victory over James feels meaningless now. We won the corporate battle, but I’m about to face an impossible choice.
My phone buzzes with a message from Thatcher.
Thatcher:
The meeting went amazingly! Can’t wait to tell you everything. How did your board meeting go today?
I stare at the text, the weight of what I have to ask him crushing my chest. Tonight, I’m going to have to choose between his happiness and mine. Between his dreams and our future.
I type back.
Pierce:
Tell me everything over dinner. My place, seven p.m.? I have something important to discuss too. I’ll send you the address.
His response is immediate.
Thatcher:
Can’t wait
The heart emoji makes my chest ache with the knowledge that I might be about to break both our hearts. Tonight, I’m going to ask him to choose between the job he loves and the man who loves him.
And I have no idea which one he’ll pick.