Chapter 20 #3
Blake's mouth moves like he almost smiles.
Luca sits near Grayson on the loveseat, their shoulders pressed together, Grayson's hand moving slowly up and down Luca's arm.
None of this looks important to anyone who doesn't understand what it costs to keep a room safe.
That's what makes it dangerous. A camera would flatten it into softness. A campaign would call it proof.
I keep one hand on Rosalie's back and let her breathing count time against my ribs.
The deal's poisoned. There's no cleaner way to name it.
We've been trying to manage a merger while Victor and Dorian study the places where our private life touches our public one.
We've got exclusions, marked clauses, written objections, counsel, ownership protections, and enough leverage to keep them from simply taking what they want today.
We don't have enough proof to cut the deal cleanly without handing them a new angle of attack.
If we walk away too fast, Victor'll frame it as instability.
If we stay too long, Dorian'll keep building doors around words like dignity and consent until one of them opens where Luca lives.
Blake looks up from James's blocks, and I know he's arrived at the same place.
His face is drawn, his glasses pushed into his hair, his hand resting near James's shoulder as if he needs contact with something uncomplicated.
"We can't keep reading this as contract language," he says quietly enough that the children don't look up.
"It's strategy. They're using the deal to map us. "
Maceo sets down a card. "Yes."
Grayson looks over from the loveseat. "Quentin can help with the contract side, but this is bigger than clauses."
Luca's eyes lower to Rosalie asleep against me. "They want us to look unreasonable for saying no to being used."
That's it exactly.
I rub my palm once over Rosalie's back and feel the decision settle somewhere cold and steady.
I've spent too long trying to keep this contained inside the official channels because official channels are supposed to reward precision.
Victor and Dorian are using precision too.
They're only aiming it at the parts of us that don't belong in documents.
"We need outside eyes," I say.
Blake looks at me.
"Not just Quentin," I continue. "Wilson's dealt with men who hide predatory language inside philanthropy.
Lorenzo'll see the contract rot faster than anyone on Victor's side can rephrase it.
Nicholas'll know where the money pressure's coming from and what they expect to gain if they turn Ember House into public conscience for the merger. "
Maceo's expression changes by almost nothing, which means he agrees. "We should send the draft, the call notes, the campaign language, and the internal references to family-forward assets."
Grayson's hand stills on Luca's arm. "Family-forward assets," he says, and the disgust in his voice is soft enough that it hurts more than if he'd raised it.
Samuel looks up from his cards. "What's assets?"
Maceo's eyes flick to me.
I keep my hand on Rosalie's back and answer before the silence can make the word heavier than it already is. "Things people think are useful."
Samuel considers that, then looks at the cards in his hand. "My moons are assets."
"They are," Maceo says. "You've been using them aggressively."
Samuel beams and returns to cheating.
Luca's face twists for one second before he smooths it, but Blake catches it.
He reaches across the space between the loveseat and the rug, and Luca leans forward enough to take his hand.
Grayson shifts to make the reach easier.
James keeps building at Blake's feet. Rosalie sleeps through all of it, warm and heavy against my chest.
This is what they don't get. Family's not an angle. It's not brand warmth, or narrative value, or a trust-building visual. It's the reason the line exists in the first place.
I take my phone from my pocket and scroll to Wilson's name.
My thumb hovers there for one second while I think through what the call'll cost, how much we'll have to share, how many locked rooms we'll need to open for people we trust because people we don't trust are already trying to pick the doors.
Then Rosalie sighs in her sleep and tucks her face tighter against my chest.
I hit call.
Wilson answers on the fourth ring, voice rough and alert in the way of a man who's learned that late calls rarely bring small problems. "Luther?"
I look around the room while the call connects fully.
Blake pale and furious on the floor with James beside him.
Luca holding his hand from the loveseat.
Grayson watching me like he already knows this is the moment the circle widens.
Maceo with Samuel's cards in one hand and the corrected clause open on his tablet beside him. Rosalie asleep over my heart.
"We need help," I say.
Wilson's quiet for half a breath. "Tell me where to start."
I look at the marked draft on the coffee table, then at Luca, then at my daughter's small hand curled in my shirt. "Start with Ember House. Then I'll tell you about Victor Hale, Dorian, and the campaign they're trying to build out of my family."