Chapter 26 #2
Lorenzo gives them exactly ten seconds before the practical part of his brain wins.
"Congratulations on deciding to make the wedding everyone else’s problem," he says, and there's real warmth in it before his gaze shifts to Blake's cane and the careful way Luca's hand remains close to Blake's knee.
"Before we discuss the mess you brought us, I need to know whether Quentin cleared you to sit here and be difficult. "
Blake exhales through his nose. "He cleared me for two hours, no alcohol, no stairs, no direct confrontation, and no reading full documents on my own."
Maceo's hand settles on the table beside Blake's. "Which is why I've got the documents."
Blake looks like he wants to object on principle, but Luca's ring flashes when Luca rests his hand on Blake's wrist, and the objection never forms.
Nicholas opens his folder. "I started with the property holdings because Lorenzo said the language around affiliated charitable arms looked too broad.
The structure's spread across enough entities that it looks like normal investor insulation at first, but the same names keep appearing around media rights, event access, and philanthropic promotion. "
Wilson leans forward. "Aegis Philanthropic. Veritas Media Group. Three smaller impact channels that've changed names twice in four years."
I feel Blake still across from me.
Wilson notices too, but keeps his voice even.
"I recognize the pattern. It's not the front-facing company that worries me.
It's what sits behind it. They brush against vulnerable spaces through funding, promotion, documentary access, donor cultivation.
By the time someone realizes what's been granted, the story's already left the people it belongs to. "
Luca's hand tightens on Blake's wrist. He doesn't shrink. That matters. His fear's there, but so is his anger, and the ring on his hand turns when he curls his fingers.
Lorenzo turns the tablet so the clause faces us.
"This is the language that matters. Exclusive access to historical and narrative data associated with charitable arms for global philanthropic promotion.
It's buried behind definitions that make it sound like annual reports and donor brochures.
It's not written like a media-rights grab, but that's what it becomes when paired with the appendices. "
Maceo reads silently, his face giving away nothing. Then he slides the tablet toward Blake, stopping it before Blake has to reach too far. Blake looks at the highlighted lines, only those lines, and I can see the moment he understands what exhaustion and crisis kept him from catching sooner.
"They were never looking at Keller Industries first," Luca says.
No one interrupts him.
He looks at the table, then at Wilson, then at me. His voice stays quiet, but it carries. "They were looking for a way to make Ember House useful to them. The company was the door. Blake was the person they needed manageable enough to open it."
Nicholas's fingers tighten around the folder in his lap. He's not a loud man. His gentleness makes the next words worse. "It's not a partnership. It's a leash."
The table goes still.
I look at Luca's ring because if I look at his face too long, the fear in me will try to become something less useful.
The ring's a small thing. A band on a hand.
A promise made in a hospital room by a man who almost didn't live long enough to ask.
It sits there now while strangers try to tell us which parts of Luca's life can be packaged, which parts of our children's origins can be converted into donor language, which parts of a sanctuary can be opened under the word promotion.
Grayson's fingers slide along the back of my neck, firm enough to bring me back into my body.
Wilson studies me. "They've been brushing Ember House through affiliated channels for a while. Requests for public impact summaries. Donor story inquiries. Third-party media interest that looked disconnected until Nicholas mapped the ownership. None of it's enough alone. Together, it shows intent."
Blake's hand closes around the head of his cane. His knuckles go white before he makes himself loosen them. Luca sees it and shifts closer, not to stop him from feeling it, only to remind him he's not the only one at the table anymore.
"What do you need from us?" Maceo asks.
Lorenzo's eyes flicker with approval. "Documents. All correspondence involving affiliated charitable language, public-facing impact reports, donor access requests, brand partnership pitches, and anything Dorian sent that uses narrative, survivor, sanctuary, or legacy."
"I can have it to you tonight," Maceo says.
Blake inhales like the answer's trying to leave his mouth first. Luca's hand presses once at his wrist. Blake's jaw tightens, but he lets Maceo's answer stand.
Nicholas looks at me. "You also need to stop thinking of this as a failed merger. It's evidence now. The deal structure tells you what they wanted, and the shell entities may tell you who else they tried it with."
Wilson nods. "We can help find them."
Oliver, quiet until now, keeps one hand over his belly and looks at Luca with a seriousness that steadies the room. "And we can help protect the stories while you do."
I nod and then I look at the clause again.
"They don't get the sanctuary," I say. My voice is low enough that it doesn't have to compete with the music beneath us.
"They don't get the children. They don't get Luca's history, Blake's mind, Grayson's care, or Maceo's silence.
They don't get to turn this family into a product and call it healing. "
Luca looks at me then. So does Blake. So do all of them.
I keep my eyes on the people at the table because the vow belongs to them before it belongs to any enemy. "They don't get any of us."
Wilson's expression changes by the smallest degree. "Then we make sure they can't reach you quietly again."
Blake lets out a slow breath. His eyes are tired, but the fire in them isn’t gone. It's different now, banked instead of burning through him unchecked. "I'm going to hate not reading every line first."
Luca leans into him. "You can hate it while surviving it."
Blake's gaze drops to the band on Luca's finger, and the fight in him softens around the edges. "I can do that."
Oliver lifts his glass after a quiet moment, not high enough to draw attention from anyone outside the booth.
"To the wedding we’re absolutely making everyone cry through," he says, voice thick with feeling beneath the practiced drama.
"And to making sure no one ever mistakes survival for something they can own. "
We drink to that. Water for Blake. Sparkling juice for Oliver.
Something stronger for Wilson, who watches the room over the rim of his glass.
I don't remember what I drink. I only remember Luca smiling when Blake touches the band again, the others already constructing a plan as Grayson leans into my side like he trusts me to hold him without needing him to disappear.
By the time we leave, a comfortable silence has slipped between us. Blake pauses on the sidewalk to adjust his grip on the cane as we stop with him, matching his speed, something that’s become easier over the last few days.
It was never just that Blake needed to slow down. It was all of us.
Luca touches my arm. "What are you thinking?"
I look down at his hand, at the band Blake gave him, at the proof that joy can happen in the middle of fear and still be real.
Then I look at Blake, pale and stubborn and alive, and I let out a small chuckle.
"I'm thinking they wanted us separated," I say.
"They wanted us confused and afraid and twisted up in all the details rather than the bigger picture so they could take what they wanted. "
Luca's fingers tighten on my sleeve.
I bend and kiss his forehead, then rest mine there for a moment because I need the contact. "They failed."