22. Liam
22
LIAM
V anessa texts back almost immediately.
Café Leclerc. 10 a.m. sharp. Come alone.
Café Leclerc is nothing like Riverwalk Café, where the rich, familiar warmth of coffee lingers long after the cup is empty, where no two chairs match but somehow fit together anyway, where people lean in close, talking too loud, laughing like they have nowhere else to be.
Riverwalk feels like a second home, like mornings that stretch lazily into afternoons. Leclerc is polished silverware, overpriced espresso, and people who order black coffee just to sound impressive.
I don't reply. Let her stew. Let her wonder if I'll show.
With a little sigh, I set my phone down. All of us settle into quietness. After a late meal, Ava decides to go to bed and falls asleep quickly.
The loft has descended into darkness, except for the faint city glow seeping through the floor-to-ceiling windows, washing everything in blue and gold. It's quiet, except for the rhythmic sound of Ava's breathing.
I turn my head, and there she is.
Fast asleep, curled on her side, the sheets tangled around her like she fought them in her sleep. One bare leg peeks out from the covers, her arm draped over the pillow. Her hair spills across the pillowcase, wild and untamed, like her.
She murmurs something, shifting slightly, and my heart beats just a little faster.
If I could, I'd spend the hours just watching her. Ava Bennett doesn't sleep like someone who trusts the world. She sleeps like someone who fights it even in her dreams. Her fingers twitch in the sheets, her brows pulling together like she's resisting something even in sleep.
She's exhausted. And why wouldn't she be? Someone has been watching her, threatening her, keeping her in a constant state of fight-or-flight. And yet, here she is, tangled up in my bed, trusting me enough to let her guard down.
I let my head fall back against the pillow, staring at the ceiling.
This wasn't supposed to happen. Not this way. And not with her.
For years, I told myself I didn't need anyone. That I was better off alone. And maybe I was, for a long while.
Because the last time I let someone in, she ripped me apart piece by piece and called it love.
I close my eyes, and suddenly, I'm back there.
Back in the penthouse I shared with Vanessa, where everything was polished wood and cold marble. Where the lights were too bright, the wine was too expensive, and the walls never felt like home.
She liked things curated. Controlled. If I left a book on the coffee table, she'd move it. If I bought a jacket she didn't like, she'd replace it before I could argue. It was subtle at first. A comment here, a suggestion there. That tie doesn't suit you. You should hire a better tailor. Do you really want to be seen driving that car?
Then it wasn't.
She chipped away at me, piece by piece, until I didn't recognize myself.
I stopped arguing. It was easier.
And maybe I should've left sooner, but leaving wasn't that simple. She was tangled in my life, in my business, in everything.
And the worst part? She made me believe it was love. That control was devotion. That possessiveness was care.
By the time I saw her for what she was, it was too late.
Not too late to leave. But too late to walk away unscathed.
Vanessa didn't let go without consequences.
I inhale sharply, forcing the memories back into the past where they belong.
I glance at Ava again, at the way her fingers have relaxed against the sheets, at the slow rise and fall of her chest.
Ava is nothing like Vanessa.
Vanessa was calculated, manipulative, cold. Ava is reckless, stubborn, warm. A wildfire instead of an ice storm.
And she terrifies me.
Because I know what happens when you let someone in.
And yet, as I watch her sleep, I can't shake the thought sinking into my bones, settling deep, inescapable.
I'm already in.
I run a hand down my face, exhaling slowly. No use fighting it. Not anymore.
The hours pass, and I drift in and out of sleep until my phone vibrates in my pocket.
Stifling a groan, I sit up and rub the sleep from my eyes before glancing at the clock—8:30 a.m.
Ava is fast asleep. At the last second, I lean down and press a kiss to her forehead.
She doesn't stir.
I pull back and leave before I change my mind.
The car ride is painful, but the destination is worse.
Café Leclerc is just as insufferable as I remember.
The clinking of porcelain, the low chime of conversations spoken in muted, careful tones. Floor-to-ceiling windows let in soft morning light, casting long shadows over the sleek marble tables. A chandelier—because of course there's a chandelier—glitters overhead, an absurdly lavish addition to a place that serves nothing but a thousand overpriced renditions of coffee and sandwiches with a side of quiet judgment.
Vanessa is already there, sitting by the window, perfectly poised in a navy-blue sheath dress, her blonde hair swept back into a polished bun. A picture of unbothered elegance.
Except for her grip on the coffee cup.
White-knuckled.
She's furious.
Good.
I take my time walking over, lowering myself into the seat across from her. I don't speak first, just settle back, watching her with mild interest, letting the silence stretch.
Slowly, she lifts her phone between two manicured fingers. She waves it lightly, like a cat toying with a trapped mouse.
"You've really outdone yourself, darling," she purrs, scrolling leisurely. "A leak? How very theatrical. I almost believed it."
I lean back against my chair, stretching out my legs, feigning boredom. "Almost?"
She sighs, ever the condescending queen, crossing one elegant leg over the other. "Please. I know you too well, Liam. You're controlled. Methodical. You don't leak things. You bury them." She glances at the screen again, her expression all faux amusement. "But I'll admit, you had me curious. Just for a moment."
That means it worked.
Vanessa thinks she's already won. That's her biggest weakness—always believing she's untouchable. She doesn't know just how much I've uncovered, how far I've traced her moves back, how many of her allies have already started slipping through my fingers like sand.
She doesn't know she's already lost.
I tap a finger against my coffee cup, keeping my tone mild. "So, what gave it away?"
She clicks her tongue. "Darling, the fact that you still think you can outmaneuver me is adorable."
I exhale a quiet laugh, shaking my head. "Vanessa, you've spent months trying to sabotage me, and for what? Because I had the audacity to leave you? Because I wouldn't let you turn me into one of your designer accessories?"
She smiles, slow and glacial. "Oh, Liam." She leans forward slightly, resting her chin on her palm. "If I were still hung up on you, I'd have burned your life down properly. Not this slow, calculated dismantling."
I raise a brow. "So you are admitting to trying to ruin me?"
She tilts her head, mock-innocent. "Now, why would I do that?"
I don't rise to the bait. Instead, I smirk, pulling my phone from my pocket and placing it facedown on the table. Just the action is enough to make her eyes flick toward it—because she knows me. She knows I never put my phone down unless I'm trying to make a point.
"I spent some time going through old records," I say, keeping my voice casual. "Digging into a few things you left behind. Tyler helped, of course." I watch her expression tighten ever so slightly at his name, and I grin. "Turns out, you're quite the multitasker."
She rolls her eyes. "Spare me the dramatics."
I lean forward, matching her earlier stance. "Let's see. You've been buying up shares under shell companies, destabilizing Carter Holdings piece by piece. You've been strategically pushing lawsuits through third parties, knowing they'd pile up just enough to create doubt with my investors. And then, of course, there's the matter of Project Bennett."
Her smirk doesn't falter, but something flickers in her gaze.
I smile. Got you.
"That's quite the collection you had," I continue, watching her reaction closely. "Schedules. Financials. Photographs." My voice drops just slightly. "You really should have been more careful about where you stored them."
Vanessa sighs, sitting back in her chair, tapping a polished nail against the rim of her coffee cup. "And?"
I arch a brow. "And?"
She shrugs. "Congratulations, Liam. You found my receipts. Do you want a medal? Or are you hoping I'll throw my hands up and confess?" She tilts her head, amusement flashing in her expression. "Because I won't."
"No," I say easily. "You won't." I reach for my coffee, taking a slow sip before setting it back down. "But you will slip up."
She scoffs. "Please. If anyone is cracking under pressure, it's that little pet of yours."
I don't react.
She narrows her eyes, watching me closely, waiting for a tell.
Nothing.
She smirks again. "Come now, Liam. You must see it. The way she clings to you. The way she wants so desperately to believe you're some kind of hero. That's why I let her spiral." She shrugs, careless. "It was fun. Watching her start to doubt you, watching her wonder if she was just another pawn in your game." Her voice lowers, tilting into something cruel. "You think she really trusts you?"
I don't blink. "I know she does."
Her smile is all teeth. "For now."
I drum my fingers against the table, tilting my head. "It's interesting," I muse, "that you're spending all this energy trying to break Ava, trying to turn her against me." I lean in just slightly, lowering my voice. "Almost as if you're threatened."
Vanessa's smile falters, just for a second.
She recovers quickly, exhaling a slow, deliberate breath. "Threatened? By her?" She laughs lightly, shaking her head. "Darling, please. She's not a threat. She's just collateral damage."
That? That pisses me off. "Collateral damage," I repeat, voice carefully controlled.
She sighs dramatically, as if this conversation is exhausting her. "Oh, Liam, you're being so tedious. You always were." She waves a hand. "Do you want to know why I'm really winning?" She lifts her phone again, tilting it toward me. "Because you're still playing by the rules."
I glance at the screen. A string of emails, news alerts. My fake leak.
Vanessa smirks, victorious. "You think you're forcing my hand, but darling… I always have an out." She leans in, lowering her voice to a whisper. "And if I were you, I'd be very, very careful about what happens next."
I sit back, watching her for a long moment.
She tsks, tapping a perfectly manicured nail against her cup.
"You know, darling," she muses, tilting her head, "it's such a shame."
This conversation is beginning to give me a headache. "What is?"
She exhales, the picture of faux regret. "That it had to come to this. That you're here, sitting across from me like we're enemies, when we both know we used to be so much more."
I snort. "If by more you mean a relationship built on manipulation, deceit, and emotional warfare, then sure. That's exactly what we were."
She laughs, unfazed. "Oh, Liam, don't be so dramatic. We had our fun." She lifts a brow, her gaze flicking down my body like she's sizing me up. "And we could have it again."
I tilt my head, letting my expression stay blank, detached. "Is that a proposition?"
She leans forward, her voice dipping into something silkier, something meant to disarm. "Come back to me, Liam. You don't belong in that ridiculous mess you've found yourself in. This whole domesticated version of you? It's not real." She twirls the stem of her glass between her fingers, her lips curving. "And you know it."
I let the silence stretch, watching her, waiting.
She takes my stillness as interest—because, of course, Vanessa Chase believes no one could actually reject her.
Her voice softens, laced with nostalgia. "You and me, we understand each other. We play the same game." She tilts her head, pouting slightly. "We were unstoppable, once."
I smile humorlessly. "No, Vanessa. You were unstoppable. And you expected me to follow."
Her gaze sharpens. "And didn't you?"
I sit back, shaking my head. "Not anymore."
Her lips purse, just slightly. "So, you're really serious about her, then?" Her voice is light, but there's something simmering underneath. "This little game with Ava? You think it's real?"
I keep my face unreadable. "Don't you?"
She tsks again, swirling her drink lazily. "I think she's nothing more than an inconvenient distraction."
I let my jaw tic, just once, before composing myself. "Funny. You seem awfully obsessed with a distraction."
Vanessa's nostrils flare slightly before she schools her features. "I'm not obsessed with her," she drawls. "I'm simply making a point. You're acting like some tragic hero, ready to throw yourself into ruin over a woman who doesn't belong in your world. It's embarrassing, really."
I glance at my watch. "And yet, here you are, still trying to convince me otherwise."
Her fingers tighten slightly around the stem of her glass, but her smirk remains. "I just hate to see you waste yourself on her, Liam. You're better than that. We're better than that."
I tilt my head, lowering my voice just enough to make her lean in. "Then tell me, Vanessa—what exactly have you been wasting your time on? Because from where I'm sitting, it looks like you've spent the last several months obsessed with me. My business. My relationships." I smile lazily. "Almost as if you regret losing me."
For one very quick second, she scowls at me. "Don't flatter yourself, darling. This was never about you."
I hum in amusement. "No? Then why sabotage Carter Holdings? Why manipulate Ava into doubting me? Why Project Bennett?"
Her eyes narrow ever so slightly. "Because I needed leverage."
My pulse jumps, but I keep my face neutral.
Vanessa leans back, examining her nails. "You see, Liam, people like you—men with power, with influence—you don't lose unless someone makes you. And I? I simply saw an opportunity to remind you that even you aren't untouchable." She lifts her gaze back to mine, cool and sharp. "Ava was just the easiest point of access."
I tighten my grip on my coffee cup, but I don't react. I don't rise to the bait. Instead, I tip my head. "So, what was the plan?"
Vanessa's lips part, and for a split second, she's about to give me exactly what I need?—
Then a voice cuts through the air.
"What the hell is going on?"
I tense instantly, my head snapping toward the entrance of the café.
Ryan.
And Nate.
And Ava.
Fucking hell.
Vanessa, to her credit, doesn't even flinch. She just tilts her head, her smirk growing as she sips her drink, her gaze flicking between Ava and me like she's delighted by the interruption.
Ava looks frazzled, her gaze locked onto Vanessa like she's barely resisting the urge to lunge across the table.
Ryan, on the other hand? His temper is already at a rolling boil, fists clenched, nostrils flared, livid. "I swear to God, if you're making deals with her?—"
"I'm handling it," I cut in sharply.
Ryan glares at me like I just spat in his face. "Handling it?" His voice rises. "You're having drinks with the psycho who's been targeting my sister!"
Vanessa sighs dramatically, setting her glass down with a soft clink. "Oh, this is precious." She glances at Ava, feigning concern. "Darling, are they always this emotional?"
Ava doesn't answer.
Because Ava is looking at me.
And she has the guilty look on her face that tells me she was the one who told her brothers. Either to keep them safe, or to protect me from Vanessa. Knowing her, it's probably both.
Goddamn it.
"Ava—" I start, but she shakes her head, stepping back.
Ryan steps forward, his jaw tight. "I don't know what the fuck you're playing at, Carter, but you'd better start explaining."
Vanessa smiles sweetly, pure poison. "Yes, Liam. Do tell."
And just like that, everything I've been building—everything I've baited Vanessa into admitting?—
teeters on the edge of falling apart.