Chapter 5
Addison
The office they gave me is on the fortieth floor.
I hate it here.
On my first day in the Palmer Capital building, I go to my first meeting and then spend an hour getting settled into the space that already feels temporary. There is no art on the wall, and I don’t add any personal touches to brighten up the office.
Nobody stops by. Nobody introduces themselves. The faces that pass in the hallway are unfamiliar and indifferent.
By noon, I’ve unpacked everything, and the office still feels empty. I need to work. Doing nothing has always felt wrong, thanks to my parents.
I open my laptop to draft an investor statement that will also be released to the media.
I better get started on fixing Palmer Capital’s reputation.
Three years. That’s all I need to survive.
Do the work, stay out of their way, and get my company back.
The less time I spend dealing with the Palmer brothers, the better.
I make it through exactly one day before Liam summons me to his office.
His assistant waves me through as soon as I arrive.
He is reviewing something on his screen and waits five seconds before acknowledging me. It’s a power play, but I am not going to let him see me flustered.
“The investor statement needs to be revised.”
No greeting. No preamble. They still hate me, because I’ve cost them time and money.
I hate them. They took my company, and now they’re forcing me to work for them.
I cross my arms. “I sent the final draft last night.”
He slides a printed copy across his desk. “I made changes.”
Red ink bleeds through three paragraphs.
I scan the edits, and he’s watered down every strong point. He’s taken what I’ve written and turned it into corporate jargon that uses a lot of words, but really doesn’t say anything.
I slide the printed copy back toward him. “This is terrible. No media outlet will print this.”
Liam’s expression hardens, and he slides the paper back toward me. “I get the final say on the communications, and these are my changes.”
I don’t bother picking the paper back up. “You hired me to fix your credibility problem. And I am telling you that your final version is terrible.”
He stares at me, waiting for me to give in to his demands. When I don’t respond to him, he adjusts his cufflinks—too slowly. And the subtle movements on his facial features tell me he’s calculating whether to push or retreat.
“Use my version,” he commands.
He’s not used to people pushing back.
And I’m not used to putting out shitty communications. “No.”
Liam keeps his voice calm. “That wasn’t a suggestion.”
“Neither was the final draft that I gave you last night.”
I turn and walk out, leaving the revised investor statement on his desk.
On my third day, I send out my original version of the investor statement to the media, and I skip Liam’s approval entirely.
Thirty minutes after it goes out, my office phone rings.
“Get to my office,” Liam tells me.
He hangs up before I can respond.
I take the stairs up three floors, because I like the idea of making him wait.
When I arrive, he’s standing at the window.
His posture is rigid, and I can tell he’s mad. “You didn’t make any of my changes to the investor statement.”
“Correct.” And that is all the explanation he’s going to get.
He turns, and I watch as he clenches and unclenches his fists. “You went around me.”
I cross my arms. “You were slowing down the process.”
Liam crosses the distance between us and stops three feet away. “I’m the CEO, and you don’t have the authority to make decisions without me.”
“And I’m the crisis consultant you hired to fix this mess.” I wave a hand dismissively. “And getting my company back is dependent on meeting certain parameters. You are stopping me from reaching those parameters.”
“Your job is to follow my instructions.”
“My job is to restore your company’s credibility,” I remind him. “And when you make terrible suggestions, you’re stopping me from doing my job.”
He steps closer. “You will not make decisions without my approval.”
“So, you’ve said.” I don’t step back. I won’t be intimidated. “Once again, I will remind you that I am getting my company back. So, I will continue to make decisions that benefit Palmer Capital.”
His eyes narrow. “You will do as I say, Addison, because I own your company.”
The words land exactly as he intends. A reminder and a threat.
I take three steps forward and close the distance until we’re less than a foot apart.
“You own my company. Not my process. Not my judgment. And not me.” I poke my finger into his chest. “Either you trust me to do what you hired me to do, or you don’t.”
Something changes in his expression, and he stares down at where I’m poking him in the chest.
Liam takes two deep breaths. “The contract says—”
“I know what the contract says.”
Liam’s stare hardens. “Stop undermining my authority.”
I turn my back to him. “I’m saving your reputation.”
“We’re not done.”
I glance over my shoulder. “Yes, we are.”
On the fourth day, the investor statement I sent out gets picked up by three major outlets. It’s all positive coverage, and two analysts upgrade Palmer Capital’s outlook.
Every instinct tells me to make Liam admit I was right, but he won’t. Instead, I celebrate my victory privately, knowing I won that battle.
Liam summons me to his office for a meeting at 3 p.m.
I arrive five minutes late. On purpose.
He’s sitting at his desk, and the statement coverage is pulled up on his screen.
“Sit,” he tells me as soon as I enter.
I remain standing.
His mouth tightens. “The press release for the investor statement worked.”
“I know.” I bite down on my lower lip to suppress my smile.
He closes the screen. “We are getting a lot of good press coverage.”
“Also aware.”
Liam folds his hands. “It won’t happen again.”
“What won’t?”
He stands up. “You releasing investor statements to the media on your own.”
I cross my arms. “Then stop making terrible revisions to what I wrote.”
He walks around his desk until we’re standing a few feet apart. “Don’t get too cocky. You can be replaced.”
“Who exactly are you going to replace me with? Don’t forget that I’ve seen the communications your press team put out,” I remind him.
“Right now, Archer Media only exists because I am allowing it to exist.” Liam’s voice goes flat. “I could terminate the contract tomorrow, and you will never get your company back.”
I grin. “And lose the only person capable of fixing your reputation. Good luck explaining that to your investors.”
Liam’s fingers curl against his palm. “You think you’re untouchable.”
My stare hardens. “I think I’m valuable. Not the same.”
For five seconds, neither of us moves.
Then he steps aside.
“Get out.”
I walk past him, and I don’t breathe until the door closes behind me.
On day five, I send Liam the press release for the independent audit announcement.
He returns it to me with minimal edits. Good. He’s learning.
I implement his changes where they make sense. But I ignore the rest.
The release goes out at noon.
By early afternoon, it’s trending, and Liam is getting requests for multiple interviews.
Liam emails me his interview availability without a word about the press coverage or trending headlines. The silence is deliberate. Admitting I was right would mean admitting he was wrong, and men like Liam don’t admit to being wrong.
At six, I’m packing up when Nolan appears in my doorway.
“Got a minute?”
I gesture to the empty chair. He steps inside and closes the door behind him.
Nolan sits down without the performance his brothers would make of it. His suit jacket is still buttoned, tie still perfectly knotted. He must have come straight from a meeting, but he doesn’t look rushed or irritated about being here. Just calm.
The triplets share the same face, the same blue eyes, and the same build. But they couldn’t be more different. Where Liam would already be issuing directives, and Axel would likely be looking for an opening to provoke me, Nolan just waits.
He watches me zip my bag. “Liam’s been in a bad mood all week.”
“That’s not my problem.”
“It is when it affects the entire office.” His tone isn’t accusatory. Just observational. Like he’s presenting a fact for my consideration rather than making a demand.
“He’ll survive,” I say.
One corner of Nolan’s mouth lifts. “Will you?”
There’s no challenge to his question. Just genuine curiosity about whether I can sustain this level of warfare for three years.
I put my bag on my shoulder, ready to leave. “I’m used to men trying to intimidate me. Liam isn’t special.”
“You’re antagonizing him.” He doesn’t rise from the chair. “There’s a difference between standing your ground and picking fights.”
“He’s micromanaging every word I write.” Even I hear the defensiveness in my voice, but Nolan doesn’t mention it.
“He’s terrified of losing control.” Nolan leans forward, elbows resting on his knees. “Liam’s world operates on absolutes. Rules. Structure. You walked in here and ignored every boundary he tried to set.”
“His boundaries are suffocating.”
“I know.” He holds my gaze. “But understanding how Liam operates is going to make your time here easier.”
I shift my bag higher on my shoulder. “That sounds like his issue to work through, not mine.”
“It becomes your issue when he makes the next three years unbearable.” I can’t tell if Nolan is concerned or if he’s giving me a warning.
“It’s already unbearable.” The admission slips out before I can stop it.
His expression eases in a way I didn’t expect. Not pity. Understanding.
“Three years is a long time to be miserable,” he says quietly.
“Losing my company forever would be worse,” I counter.
He nods once. “For what it’s worth,” Nolan adds, rising from the chair, “you’re doing good work. The communication you are sending out is exactly what we need.”
The compliment catches me off guard. “Thanks.”
He moves to leave, then pauses with his hand on the doorframe. “Liam knows it, too. He just won’t say it.”
“He’s had plenty of opportunities.”
“Give him time. I think you two can find common ground.” Nolan glances back at me. “He’s not used to people who push back.”
“He should get used to it.”
Nolan’s mouth curves into an almost-smile. “Yeah. He should.”
He leaves the door open when he exits. I stand there for a moment, bag still on my shoulder, trying to reconcile this version of the Palmer brothers with the ones I’ve been battling all week.
Nolan didn’t give me demands or threaten me. He just talked to me like a person, instead of a problem to be managed.
Day six falls on a Saturday.
I come in anyway because the third quarter communications plan won’t write itself; besides, I’d rather work in silence than face a weekend alone in my apartment thinking about how thoroughly my life has been dismantled.
The office is empty and quiet. I’m three pages into the communications plan when footsteps echo in the hallway.
Liam walks past my office, but he doesn’t notice me.
He’s in dark jeans and a white button-up, and it’s the first time I’ve seen him without a suit. It doesn’t make him look any more approachable.
He backtracks and then appears in my doorway.
“You’re here.”
I save my document without looking up. “So are you.”
“Working on the communications plan?”
“Yes.”
A single nod. “Send it to me when you’re done.”
“I will.”
He stays where he is, jaw working like he’s chewing on something.
“The audit announcement was well executed,” he says.
That’s the closest he’ll come to admitting I’m doing a good job.
“Thank you.”
He rubs the back of his neck and then takes a breath like he’s about to leave. But he doesn’t. “We need to establish better communication.”
“Agreed.”
He goes very still. “Your refusal to compromise is why people believe you.” Then he turns toward the hallway. “Finish the communications plan. I’ll review it before Monday morning.”
My chair scrapes back before I think about it. “Liam.”
He stops, glances over his shoulder.
Nolan tried giving me advice when he stopped by, so I will be the bigger person here.
“I won’t let you control me,” I say. “But I am willing to work with you.”
His shoulders drop. Then he pulls them back. “Monday, Addison.”
He disappears around the corner.
I sink back into my chair. The cursor blinks on the screen, same as before. But the office feels different now—less like a battlefield, and more like territory we might actually learn to share.