Chapter 26
Anthony
The office feels different without her.
Not quieter. There’s still the constant low hum of Voss barely there, but I see it.
“That’s… new,” Mara says carefully.
“It’s accurate,” I reply.
A silence stretches. Mara clears her throat. “Mr. Voss, if I may—”
“You may not,” I say, mildly.
Her posture stiffens, but she continues because she’s good at her job. “There’s risk,” she says. “Press will interpret. Speculate. The board may—”
“The board can interpret whatever they like,” I cut in. “They’ll be grateful when it stabilizes the narrative.”
One of the juniors speaks up, hesitant. “Sir, if you change your mind, or if she decides not to come—”
“She’ll be there,” I say, and my voice turns colder without my permission. “And she will be included. I want her name in the materials. I want her on the seating chart. I want her in the donor packet as a featured guest.”
Mara holds my gaze. “The press materials, too?”
“Yes.”
“That’s going to be a fight,” she says softly.
“Then win it,” I reply. “Or I’ll replace the person running my events with someone who can.” The room goes silent again, and this time it isn’t just caution. It’s understanding. They see the line I’m drawing in concrete. April isn’t a secret. Not anymore.
Mara nods, measured. “Understood. We’ll prepare a draft announcement for your approval and coordinate with legal.”
“Good,” I say. “And one more thing.”
She waits.
“The language,” I tell her. “No euphemisms. No vague ‘companion’ phrasing. Use her name. Use it clearly. If anyone asks, you say she’s part of my life and she’s attending with me.”
Mara’s eyes widen a fraction. Then she inclines her head. “Yes, Mr. Voss.”
When they leave, I sit back and stare at the skyline through my glass wall, pulse steady, mind already mapping outcomes.
This will work. A public introduction. A controlled environment.
Cameras, donors, applause. April in my world, not as an employee on the edge of my shadow, but as someone I claim with pride.
She’ll see what I’m offering. She’ll feel what it means. And she’ll forgive me.
That’s what I tell myself.
I’m still telling myself that when Karen walks into my office, again, like she has every right to.
“Get out,” I deadpan.
She doesn’t bother with pleasantries. She closes the door behind her with deliberate care, like she’s sealing a room for surgery. “Anthony,” she says, voice smooth. “We need to talk.”
“If I have to stare at your face for five more seconds, I will personally see to it that you join your sister in the fucking ground.”
Her smile flashes. “Someone’s in a bad mood.”
“Don’t.”
She walks to the chair across from my desk and doesn’t sit. She leans a hand on the backrest instead, casual, intimate, like she belongs in here.
“What,” I say flatly, “do you want?”
Karen’s eyes glitter. “I want you to stop pretending you can tidy this mess with an event and a photo op.”
My jaw tightens. “You’ve been spying.”
She laughs softly. “It’s a public company, Anthony. Nothing is private when you start panicking.”
“I’m not panicking,” I say.
Karen tilts her head. “You announced an engagement that doesn’t exist,” she says, voice honey-sweet. “And now you’re trying to parade her through a gala like a trophy. That’s not strategy. That’s desperation.”
Heat flashes in my chest. I keep my face still. “Get to your fucking point.”
Her gaze hardens, and the softness drains out. “My point is simple,” she says. “You’re going to lose, and when you do, you’re taking her down with you.”
I stare at her. “Explain.”
Karen reaches into her bag and pulls out a thin manila folder. She sets it on my desk like she’s placing a bomb down carefully so it doesn’t go off prematurely.
“I have documents,” she says, “that imply coercion.”
The word hits the room like a gunshot. My body stills. “There was no coercion.”
“Is that what you’ll say?” she asks. “Because it won’t matter. It will matter what people believe.”
I don’t reach for the folder. I refuse to give her the satisfaction of watching me flinch.
“You release anything defamatory,” I say calmly, “and I will bury you in litigation so deep your grandchildren will still be paying for it.”
Karen’s smile returns, and it’s the smile of someone who’s already done the math. “You can try,” she says. “But you won’t. Not if it risks dragging every detail of your arrangement with April Swan into discovery.”
A chill runs down my spine. She knows. Not just the photo. Not just the pregnancy. Not just gossip. She knows there was a contract. An agreement. Terms. Money. Language that, out of context, could be twisted into a headline that destroys her and me in one stroke.
The manila envelope seems less mysterious now.
“You’ve been digging,” I say.
“I’ve been preparing,” she corrects.
My hands stay relaxed on the desk, but I can feel my pulse in my fingertips. “Why?” I ask, and my voice is quieter now, sharper. “Why are you doing this? It can’t just be because you want my seat, or because of your sister.”
Karen’s eyes flicker at the mention of her sister, then harden again, annoyed that I’ve reduced her motives to family politics. “It isn’t,” she says.
I watch her closely. The confidence. The certainty. The way she doesn’t fear me in my own office.
She takes a step closer. “It’s because you’re making a mistake,” she says, voice lower. “And I’m giving you one last chance to correct it.”
My mouth tightens. “I’m not interested in your charity.”
Karen’s gaze locks onto mine with startling intensity. “I’ve always loved you,” she says, as if it’s the most normal thing in the world.
The words hang in the air, wrong and invasive, like smoke in a clean room.
For a moment, I just stare at her, waiting for the punchline, waiting for her to pivot back to power plays and board votes and legal leverage.
She doesn’t.
Her face softens into something that might be genuine or might be the most dangerous performance I’ve ever seen from her.
“I’ve watched you for years,” Karen continues. “Watched you build this. Watched you harden into something untouchable. And I’ve been patient. I’ve been useful. I’ve been loyal. I’ve done everything right.”
Disgust rises in my throat, bitter. “This is what you call love?”
“Yes,” she says, unflinching. “Because I understand you. I understand what you need. I’ve known you for half your life.”
“I don’t need you,” I say.
Her lips press together briefly, annoyance flashing. “You need a wife,” she says, like it’s a fact carved into stone. “You need legitimacy. You need a mother for your heir. And you need someone who can stand beside you without becoming a liability.”
I hold very still. “Say what you mean.”
Karen’s eyes gleam. “I mean,” she says softly, “this is your last chance to choose correctly.”
A cold emptiness opens in my chest. “You’re offering yourself,” I say, and it comes out like an accusation. “When I already turned you down?”
“I’m offering you stability,” she counters. “A real partnership. A woman who knows how to play this game. Someone who won’t run the moment she gets frightened.”
My teeth clench. In my mind, I see April’s face when Karen told her about the engagement: shock, hurt, betrayal. I see April’s message asking for space. I see her trying not to fall apart on my sofa, trying to be brave while the world conspires against her.
Karen thinks that’s weakness. Karen thinks that’s something to exploit. I lean forward slightly, voice turning lethal. “April is already pregnant.” Karen’s expression tightens. “And,” I continue, the words coming with grim certainty, “I’m not choosing you.”
“Anthony—”
“No,” I cut in, and the disgust I’ve been restraining finally shows. “You don’t get to threaten a woman carrying my child and call it love. You don’t get to stalk my private life and pretend it’s devotion. It’s obsession. It’s entitlement.”
Her eyes flash with anger. “You’re blinded.”
“I’m not,” I say.
Karen’s voice sharpens. “You’re going to lose everything.”
I stand. “I’m not losing,” I say quietly.
Karen’s nostrils flare. “So that’s it,” she says, voice shaking with fury and something uglier underneath. “You’re in love with her?”
The truth hits me before I can armor it. “I think I am,” I say.
Karen’s face twists, not with heartbreak, but with rage at being denied. “You’re disgusting,” she spits.
I smile, cold. “Get the fuck out of my office.”
She doesn’t move, breathing hard, eyes bright with threat. I step closer to the desk and tap the folder with one finger, deliberately. “If you release anything,” I tell her, “I will destroy you. Publicly. Privately. Legally. Financially. Every way you can be destroyed.”
Karen’s smile returns, brittle now. “You think you can scare me?”
“I think you should be scared,” I say.
For a moment, we stare at each other across the desk—two people who understand power in the same language, who’ve simply chosen different gods to worship.
Then Karen lifts her chin. “You have five days,” she says. “Five days to make the right choice.”
And with that, she turns and walks out of my office like she’s leaving a courtroom after sentencing. The door clicks shut. I stand motionless, staring at it, the silence roaring in my ears.
Then I pick up my phone and open April’s thread again. My thumb hovers over the screen.
This time, I don’t type. Five days. The gala. If Karen is holding documents that can be twisted into coercion, if Aidan Snow is circling like a shark, if the board is hungry and the press is already salivating, then the gala isn’t a grand gesture anymore. It’s a battlefield.