41. Helen
HELEN
I barely sleep. I should hate Liam right now, but I don’t. I miss him, and it’s nowhere near a “dear diary” crisis. It’s purely physical. I want him crushing me against him, fucking me like the world is about to end so I don’t have to face whatever it’s about to throw at us.
“Get a grip!” I grumble.
At the end of the day, the world still wins. Liam treated pregnancy like a catastrophe waiting to happen and that sticks.
Then there’s Victor and his deceit. But somehow that one-point-six-million revelation hasn’t shaken me that much.
Maybe because I know Liam is already behind me, determined to get my money back.
What unsettles me more is the way Liam talked about my father.
None of it sounds like good news. It sounds like fallout.
Dad had offices in Paris and Zurich, and a supposedly minor satellite in Milan that somehow demanded most of his attention.
That part isn’t new. What feels different now is Liam suddenly bringing it up, and the way he—and Victor before him—talk about my father’s European past as if it isn’t finished.
Victor first mentioned it in the same night he was talking about Paris and Uncle Pierre. Now I’m sure it wasn’t just about the city’s charm or the countryside he planned to show me.
As far as I know, Dad’s European ventures collapsed just as spectacularly as everything else he touched in North America.
That was always the story. But Liam sounds certain that isn’t true, and now the doubt has taken root.
If something survived over there, if something was hidden instead of destroyed, I need to know.
Because Victor being in Europe no longer feels like the harmless holiday he made it out to be.
I pull in a breath and promise myself I’ll speak to Liam calmly.
“Someone’s here to see you.” Anna shows up at my bedroom door before I can unlock my phone. And behind her—
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“Hello Helen,” Victor greets me.
Anna looks guilty before I say a word. “He said it was important.”
I stare at her. I already told her about the mortgage fraud. “Important? After everything he did?”
She swallows. “I thought you should hear him.”
Anger rises, hot and immediate. “He convinced you to move money that wasn’t yours, and that you didn’t understand. He used you.”
Victor steps forward. He gives me that half-smile that investors trust and I used to mistake for sincerity.
“Firstly,” he says, “I’m sorry about Anna. That was me. I admit it. I thought she still had access to more of your father’s funds.”
“Anna,” I say, without looking at her, “please leave.”
She hesitates.
“Leave.”
She turns and walks away. And I should’ve already kicked this son of a bitch out, too. But part of me wants to know his story.
“I know about you and Liam,” Victor reveals. “But that’s not why I’m here.”
“Then why?”
“He’s a dangerous man, Helen.”
I chuckle. “So are you.”
“But isn’t it better the devil you know?” he says and moves to shut the door.
“Leave it open.”
He holds my gaze, and I remember why I once felt safe with him. Damn, what’s wrong with me?
“Liam Hunt destroyed me.”
“Oh, please. You’re not strong enough to survive a breakup?”
“My heart is not the issue,” he says. “And you know that. I’m talking about intent. After Greigson backed out, I tried to rebuild. And Liam made sure I couldn’t.”
“You lost investors. That happens.”
“It doesn’t happen in forty-eight hours.”
“I wouldn’t know.”
“Exactly,” he says softly. “So let me show you.”
He hands me a message thread. Names I don’t recognize. Companies I don’t recognize. But I recognize the sender. Liam Hunt.
Victor scrolls to the relevant part and turns the phone toward me.
Here’s the reality of Victor Rochemont’s venture. It isn’t a business. It’s an ego project. Exit while you can.
“There were four investors in that thread,” Victor says. “Three of them withdrew within two days.”
“That’s not illegal,” I say.
“No. It’s influence.”
He scrolls again.
Another email. Different thread. Same sender.
If you value your capital, walk. Rochemont won’t age well.
“I wasn’t attacking him,” Victor continues. “I wasn’t even in his lane. But he decided I was a risk.”
“Maybe you were,” I snap.
“Maybe,” he agrees. “But he didn’t just step aside. He made sure the ground disappeared under me. You don’t do that to a friend.”
I stare at the screen. I don’t understand leverage or how any of that works, but I understand what it feels like to be talked about as a liability. And Liam’s tone in those messages isn’t emotional. It’s dismissive.
“Why?” I ask.
Victor doesn’t hesitate. “Because I was with you.”
I bow my head down. “This is confusing me, Victor.” I show him I’m defeated, I’m not hiding from it.
“Helen…” he tries to touch me.
“Don’t!” I say firmly. “If that’s all true, Liam shouldn’t have done it. But here’s one thing that’s still bothering me.”
“Spill it. I’m listening. I still want us to work.”
“Jag—”
“Anything. Ask me anything and I’ll tell you the truth.”
“Why are you so interested in Europe? Really. It’s not the museums or the chateaus. It’s not about me reconnecting with Uncle Pierre. Something about my dad?”
His expression shifts. “What are you talking about?”
“You said you would be truthful.”
He exhales. “He fed you this, didn’t he? Liam. The Red Fox you fell hard for!”
My pulse stutters, and I don’t have an answer for him.
“Sorry for showing my emotion!” he continues. “Sorry for feeling bitter about it. But I didn’t have to dig deep.”
“Get out.”
“I thought you wanted the truth.”
I shake my head but I do want to know what else he has to say. So I let him speak.
“I didn’t know he was Red Fox,” he explains. “But once I heard about you two, I put it together.”
“You said we were over.”
“You were with him in that game. We were still together for God’s sake, Helen.”
“We played! Nothing more!” I insist. “Liam and I are together. Yes. But that’s after we broke up.”
“Yeah. Fine. I’ll give you that. But you know what? I thought you would come back,” he says. “I didn’t realize your loyalty was that short.”
“Don’t.”
“You love him?”
“That’s none of your business. And you still haven’t answered my question. What is in Europe?”
His eyes move over me, and the tension in them fades. “Fine. Yes. Your father had something in Europe. I’ve been trying to protect you.”
“From what?”
“You wouldn’t believe me without proof. I don’t have concrete evidence yet.”
I don’t know where to place my weight anymore.
“Liam is looking into it too,” Victor says. “He isn’t as innocent as he lets you believe.”
“He’s already rich,” I reply. “Why would he want anything from Mercer?”
Victor smiles, and I realize he thinks I’ve missed the point entirely.
“Helen, I’ve always told you that your father was brilliant. This might have been his best move yet.”
“You think he set something up for Olivia and me? Is that what you’re implying?”
“For you, yes. But not in the way you’re thinking. Do you know why Liam would bother pursuing this? Pursuing you?” He lets the distinction hang. “Because half a billion dollars is persuasive to any billionaire.”
Holy fuck…how much?
“He could squander it on an absurd yacht like the Saudi royals parade around. Or he could compound it properly and turn five hundred million into three billion in ten years. Depends on how he positions it.”
The ache behind my temple spreads. I can’t tell if it’s the money or him.
“I taught him well,” Victor continues, almost reflective. “Perhaps too well. The student has finally surpassed the teacher.”
“I’ll talk to him.”
“No.” He steps in front of me even though I haven’t moved. “Whatever you do, don’t tell him anything.”
I push past the pressure in my head and make myself think. “Let’s entertain that what you’re saying about my father was true. Liam still wouldn’t.”
“You keep defending him.”
I do. Because I trust him.
Because—
“Did he tell you about the bet?” Victor asks.
“What bet?”
“The Game. He was certain you’d take the money. Fifty thousand.”
It was Liam’s idea?
Victor scoffs. “He never mentioned it, did he?”
The Game was his world. Why am I being na?ve about it? Of course he would’ve had an opinion about me before I even stepped inside.
“He bet you wouldn’t even survive a minute in that game, and you’d take the payout immediately,” he says. “That’s how little he thinks of you.”
“That’s not true.”
“He never believed you belonged there.”
For the first game, Liam barely knew me. Whatever he thought then shouldn’t matter now. It was strategy. Ego. A man assessing risk. And yet, if this was how he started— dismissing me before I’d even made my first move—then what made him decide I was worth keeping?
I held my own that night, but I didn’t execute some heroic turnaround that would rewrite his first impression. He dragged me out of the crushing chamber. By all logic, that should have sealed the verdict. And still, he has never once treated me as fragile.
By the time I look back at Victor, he’s already holding out his phone. “I didn’t want to show you this.” He taps the screen.
It’s Liam’s voice.
Cowards take the money and leave.
The clip ends.
My skin goes cold. “Play the rest!”
“I can’t.” Victor doesn’t flinch. “Whatever exists between him and me, I’m still bound to protect the Game. The rest concerns things you were never meant to hear.”
“That’s convenient.”
“It’s principle. If I start betraying confidences when it suits me, what would that make me?”
I shake my head and drop into the armchair in the corner of the room. “That’s enough. I want to be alone.”
“You’re always currency to him, Helen,” Victor insists. “Possibly to me as well. I won’t deny it. I’d benefit from having you close. But I also wanted you. I still do. With you beside me, this isn’t a war I have to fight alone. And I’m offering you something real. A future, not a game.”
A cramp grips low in my abdomen and steals my breath.
Victor’s hand finds my shoulder. “Are you okay?”
I remove it gently. “I’m fine.” I reach for the glass of water I left on the table this morning.
“You don’t look fine. Let me take you to a doctor.”
“No.” I take a long swallow and set the glass down.
He kneels in front of me. “Helen, whatever is happening, I’m still here. Our talk about big houses and kids, it hasn’t faded. I still—”
“Stop.”
He wants a family. Liam looked like he was bracing for disaster.
Suddenly I don’t know what’s real. The recording shouldn’t matter. It’s one sentence. But it lands on top of everything else. The pregnancy question, Europe, the feeling that I’m being evaluated.
“Jag—” I stop myself. “Victor. I can’t.”
“No B.S. now, Helen. I am trying to win you back.”
I sigh. “That’s the problem.”
“I love you,” he says.
“I don’t trust you.”
Victor stares at me like he’s calculating whether that’s final or negotiable.
“I’m trying to protect you,” he says again, more force in it now.
“By circling my father’s business? By playing recordings? By letting yourself in through Anna?”
He knocks the glass from the table. It shatters against the floor. For a second, he looks surprised by his own reaction.
“I’m losing you,” he says.
“You already did.”
I rise from the chair and move away from him. “You need to leave.”
“You’re making a mistake,” he says.
“Maybe,” I reply. “But it’ll be mine.”
“And when you find out who he really is?”
“Then I’ll deal with it.”
He walks out without another word. Pain cuts low again, sharp enough that my hand flies to my abdomen.
Two men.
Two different versions of power.
One is campaigning. The other thinks the vote is counted.
And suddenly I don’t feel chosen by either of them.
I look at the broken glass on the floor and realize something cold and clear. If this is what loving them looks like, I need space. And I refuse to be currency. I wouldn’t belong to a man who wanted my inheritance, or to one who once treated me like a wager.