CHAPTER 11
Lines They Shouldn't Cross
Helen
She was still dressed — hadn't been able to sleep either. The bed was too empty. The room was too quiet.
Josh stood in the hallway. No jacket. His shirt was untucked. His hair was slightly disheveled. His eyes were dark with something she couldn't name — regret, maybe. Or longing. Or fear.
"It's late," she said.
"I know."
"You shouldn't be here."
"I know."
But neither of them closed the door.
Helen stepped back. Josh stepped inside.
Her penthouse overlooked the Chicago skyline — the John Hancock Center, the lake, the lights of the city stretching to the horizon. It was warm. Personal. Full of photos and books and the small messes of a real life.
Josh looked around slowly, taking it all in.
"This isn't what I expected," he said.
"What did you expect?"
"I don't know. Something colder." He picked up a framed photo from the shelf — her and her father at her college graduation. "Something less human."
Helen almost smiled. "That's not me."
"No," he agreed. "It's not."
They stood in the living room, the city lights glowing through the windows behind them. Thunder in the distance. Rain beginning to tap against the glass.
"Why are you here, Josh?" she asked quietly.
He looked at her. And for the first time, he didn't have a careful answer.
"Because I don't want to destroy you," he said.
The words landed like stones in still water. Helen's breath caught.
"What?"
Josh stepped closer.
"Tomorrow morning at 9 AM, my company is launching a tender offer for the Campbell Group."
Helen went pale. Even though she'd known — she'd known since Day Two — hearing him say it out loud was different.
"I have the votes. I have the financing. I have everything I need to take control and dismantle every part of this place."
His voice cracked.
"But I don't want to anymore."
Helen stared at him. The man she'd been falling for. The man who had held her hand in the garden. The man who had stood in her father's ballroom and listened like he understood.
"You're the one," she whispered. "The buyer Richard has been negotiating with."
"Yes."
"You've been inside my hotel for four days. Pretending."
"Yes."
"You sat in my restaurant. Walked through my ballroom. Held my hand in the garden."
"Yes."
"You made me feel like I wasn't alone."
Josh closed his eyes. When he opened them again, they were wet.
"I know," he said. "And I'm sorry."
Helen's hands started shaking. Not from fear. From rage.
"You son of a bitch," she said quietly.
Then she slapped him. Hard. The sound echoed through the penthouse. A red mark bloomed on his cheek.
Josh didn't move. Didn't flinch. Didn't defend himself.
"I deserve that," he said.
"You deserve worse."
"Probably."
Helen stepped back, breathing hard. Her hands were still shaking.
"Get out. Get out of my hotel. Get out of my life."
Josh nodded slowly. He walked toward the door. Then he stopped.
"The offer launches at 9 AM whether I want it to or not," he said without turning around. "My team doesn't know I'm here. They don't know I've changed my mind."
He looked back at her.
"Stop me, Helen. Fight me. Do whatever you have to do. I won't stop you."
Then he walked out.
And Helen stood alone in her penthouse, shaking, furious, and more terrified than she'd ever been in her life.