CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE #2
"Add it to the list."
"Cross is moving up his timeline. Construction on the Meridian project begins in six weeks."
I straightened in my office chair. "Six weeks? It was supposed to be six months."
"Yeah, well, apparently he's 'secured all necessary approvals and financing.'" I could hear the air quotes in Archer's voice. "The community is panicking. Our office phone's been ringing nonstop. People want to know if they need to start packing."
"Fuck." I rubbed my temples. "This is impossible. There has to be a mistake. Do we have his latest plans?"
"That's the other problem. I got a copy from one of our contacts at the Planning Department. The plans include properties we own. Multiple properties. If this is true, then he’s acting like he already owns them."
Dread washed through me, an icy wave. "Send it. I need to see."
The plans arrived in my inbox seconds later. I pulled them up, scanning through page after page of architectural renderings and site maps.
There—highlighted in red—were seven properties, the seven parcels Archer and I had purchased specifically to block this kind of development.
Cross had drawn his plans right through them.
"He knew," I whispered, “when we ran into him at the event. He said there would be casualties in the Meridian project.”
"Of course he knew. This is deliberate. He's either planning to force us to sell or he's going to claim eminent domain and have the city seize them."
"Over my dead body."
"That might be the alternative," Archer said grimly. "Nash, if construction starts in six weeks, we're out of time. These families are terrified."
The weight of it pressed down on me. All those faces from our community meetings. The families who trusted us to protect them. The businesses that had been there for generations.
We were failing them.
"We need an emergency meeting with the Planning Department," I said. "I want answers about how the fuck Cross got permits that include our properties."
"Already scheduled for tomorrow morning."
"Good." I stared at the plans on my screen, rage and helplessness warring inside me. "If he wants these properties, he's going to have to meet us in court to get them. We’re not giving these up without a fight."
After I hung up, I sat in my office surrounded by mounting problems.
Preston's custody case. The impending committee meeting. The Gideon lawsuit still in limbo. And now Sebastian Cross accelerating his timeline, threatening to displace hundreds of families in a matter of weeks.
I couldn't win all the fights. Couldn't give everything to the Gideon permit battle while also protecting the Queens community. Couldn't focus on Sebastian while Preston tried to take Mia away.
Something had to give.
But what?
My phone buzzed. It was an email from one of the community leaders, CC’d to me and Archer and a slew of other people from the Queens neighborhood. “Is it true? Six weeks? What do we do?”
Another resident replied. “My landlord says Cross offered him 3x market value. He's selling. Where am I supposed to go?”
“Please help us. We have nowhere else to turn.”
Clara appeared in my doorway. "Nash? Everything okay? I heard you on the phone."
I heaved a sigh. I didn’t even know where to begin. "Cross is moving up his timeline," I said flatly. "Six weeks until construction starts. The community is being displaced by the fall."
Her hand flew to her mouth. "Oh my God."
"And his plans include our properties. The ones we bought to protect the neighborhood." I turned my screen so she could see. "He's going to steamroll right through us."
Clara came closer, studying the plans. "How can he do that?"
"If he has the right political support, he can do whatever he wants. " I laughed bitterly. "He’s probably pulling the same strings he used to revoke our Gideon permit."
"So what do we do?"
"I don't know." The admission tasted like ash. "I feel like I’m backed into a corner five different ways right now."
She was quiet for a long moment. Then she came over to me, sliding her hands over the tops of my shoulders. “I know you’ll figure it out. And I’m here to help you figure it out. We can do it. Together.”
I squeezed her hand, feeling some of the ice thaw between us. I looked up into her soulful hazel eyes, some of her grounding magic pulling me out of my anxious cloud.
“Yeah. Together.” I pulled her hand to my lips, kissing her knuckles. "I’m sorry I took over the stuff with Preston."
Her entire being softened. I could see the last of that distance melting away between us. “I understand why you wanted to.”
“But I shouldn’t have taken over. You were right.” I kissed her knuckles again. “I am fucking bossy, but I’m working on it. I’ll let you handle the stuff with Heather from here.”
Her eyes were glistening as she gazed down at me. “Thank you, Nash. You are incredible. More importantly, we’re a team.” She brushed her lips softly against mine. “Husband and wife.”
Her words were meant to relax me, but I felt something deep inside flaring. Skittish fear darted around like tadpoles in murky lake water.
I wanted to believe everything would be okay and we could figure it out. But the truth was, I couldn't protect everyone.
Something—or someone—was going to get hurt.