Chapter 21 - The Spy and the Thief
Lily's POV
I stood. Sitting felt too much like surrender. The height gave me nothing, but I kept it anyway, one last illusion of control in a room built to unmake it.
I picked up my wine glass and took a slow sip, letting the burn settle behind my teeth. Then I set it back down on the small table beside me, already aware it might serve better as an anchor than a surface.
My father moved behind his desk, his stride unhurried, each step laced with ownership.
When he sat, it was not out of comfort but ceremony.
He settled into the chair with the certainty of a man who had never needed to ask twice.
His fingers came together, a slow, deliberate steeple that belonged more to ritual than thought.
“Mr. Macon works for me,” he said, smooth as poured oil. “He has for years.”
I let my eyes slide to Sean, then back. “How romantic.”
“When I learned of your situation,” he continued, “I sent him to Highland Park. To keep you safe.”
I laughed. The sound clapped against the books. "You sent him to watch me. And apparently to report back."
My Dad tipped his head. “You attract chaos. I prefer control.”
“And did your control include timing my tears?” I asked. “Counting how many bites of cafeteria rubber I could swallow?”
“I told him to keep you alive long enough to come to your senses,” he said. “He did.”
I turned toward Sean. He met my stare without blinking. Calm.
“Guess I was wrong about you. You lick the same boot I do.”
He didn't respond, but I could tell by the slight shift in his eyebrow that he didn't like my observation.
Good, he can frolick hand in hand with my father and fuck off.
“Lilyth,” my father said. He didn’t raise his voice, but the name alone did the work. It’s the one he saved for contracts, courtrooms, and commands.
“You are home. Your charges are being handled. You will remain here for one month. You will not leave the grounds.”
“House arrest,” I said. “With better snacks.”
He ignored that. “You will be respectful to the staff. You will keep your phone off unless I say otherwise. Any visitors will be cleared by me. Your attorney will liaise through my office.”
I tilted my head, curious. “And Mother?”
He poured himself another measure. “Your mother left six months ago.”
Of course she did. She always preferred an exit to a fight. “Where is she?”
“Europe. She's discovered a taste for galleries and men who pretend to be artists. She's... finding herself.”
I nodded as if he’d told me the weather. “Maybe she’ll find a better man.”
He didn't take the bait. Instead, he slid a folder across the desk. “I’ve already handled the Holloway situation. His contract was terminated quietly, his reputation intact, for now at least, and mine even more so. No one blames you, Lily. You were misled. That’s what men like him do.”
I stared at him for a long moment. “Is that so? Then we will see how well reputations hold up when I file a sexual harassment suit against him. I might even add Matt Taylor to that list as well.”
The glass in his hand stopped just short of his lips. “You will do no such thing,”
“Oh, I most certainly will,” I said, and the room cooled. “I will sue Holloway for every inch of his public face. I will add Matt Taylor to the complaint. I will make a record that your spin doctors can't rewrite.”
His eyes narrowed. “You will not embarrass me. You will not impugn my name when I have moved heaven and earth to fix this for you."
The calm peeled back from his voice. “And what exactly have you misconstrued for sexual harassment? That man didn’t harass you, Lily.
You were as much there as he was. And Matt Taylor?
Do you know how many pictures of him we threw away and burned?
The ones you had taped to your apartment walls like wallpaper in a shrine?
A shrine, Lily, to a man you broke. To a vow you stole out from underneath his wife. "
He leaned forward, slow and surgical. "You judge me for how I make a living, but what about you? The vow thief who thinks she’s above reproach? The courts love women like you. Morally gray, unrepentant, self-destructive. Yet here I am cleaning it up.”
“Wow, Dad,” I said, voice light but shaking underneath.
“Victim blaming and gaslighting in the same breath.
Did they teach you that in the school for the criminally gifted, or did you hone that skillset on Mom after parading a new girl through the house every other week?
Where do you think I got my gray moral compass from, huh? "
"Careful, Lily." My dad growled.
I stepped forward, my temper becoming a live wire. "While your morals were crawling in the back seat with your integrity, I was watching. Learning. From you. So don’t pretend I’m some simple little lever you can pull. This goes my way, or you're all fucked.”
He didn't so much as blink. Instead, he slid a folded newspaper across the desk with the casual cruelty of a man dropping a mic. The headline glared up at me. The photo was of me mid-arrest at Tommy and Emily’s school, face caught, hands in the chaos. The caption was clinical, the photo merciless.
“Look at that,” he said softly, like he was reading me a fucking bedtime story. “Do you think a jury will see nuance when this is the image in front of them? Your little theatrics, the attempted kidnapping, the trespassing, the stalking. I could go on."
He leaned across his desk, knowing I was hanging on his every word.
"The system loves a woman who screams sexual harassment yet thinks she is an angel. You will be publicly picked apart, and for good reason. This is a circus I will not take part in, Lily.”
I mimicked his action and leaned forward until my face was inches from his.
I could see the red veins in his eyes. “Do you hear what you sound like?
You speak of a system that was built entirely by men.
Men like you. You think protecting a man in power is more important than protecting your own daughter. "
Silence. A slow, dangerous silence that tasted like metal.
Sean stood.
He had been silently observing the entire time, a shadow dressed in composure. Now, he stepped forward, shoulders loose, eyes locked on my father.
“I’ll handle Jim Holloway,” he said.
My father’s expression barely shifted, but I caught it, the briefest hint of unease.
“You won’t harm him,” he said.
Sean’s attention never left him. There was something still in his focus, something that made it hard to tell whether he was calculating or just patient.
“I’m not going to physically harm him,”
Something settled between us then, a new kind of tension. A prelude to a threat.
I tutted as I turned to give Sean my full attention, "Oh look, my little prison guard stepping in to save me."
My father moved between us, his presence like a pillow over my face.
“Mr. Macon is not merely your guard, Lilyth,” he purred. “He’s your fiancé. The wedding will take place in two weeks.”
The words landed like glass cracking underfoot.
He kept talking. “It will be private. A family ceremony. The press release will follow once you have relocated to my Palm Beach estate for the honeymoon period. I’ve already spoken with the designer; your gown is being commissioned from Dior.
Sean will have a tailored suit from Milan.
The guest list is selective, board members, allies, no journalists. ”
There I stood like a statue. Between two men who planned my future like a chess game.
I smiled faintly. “You’re serious.”
Dad's gaze never wavered. “I’m saving what’s left of your reputation.”
“You mean your reputation.”
He remained stoic and unbothered. “You’ll appear in every photo as the image of composure. You’ll say the right things, smile at the right times, and finally act like a Thompson.”
His mouth moved, slow, deliberate, curved at the corner.
“Sean knows the arrangement. You, my dear, already stated your conditions yesterday. Shall I repeat them?”
“Please do,” I said, sweet as arsenic.
“You told me,” he said, “that you would fuck who you want, take what you want, and live as you want.”
Silence dropped like a stone. Sean’s head tilted slightly. His eyes were alive yet dangerous.
Then he chuckled. The sound slid through the room, deep and amused.
“No. You will not have relations with other men.
I will not move forward unless you are fully aware of the conditions of this marriage.
I agree that you will have what you want and, for the most part, do what you want.
But you will be mine, Lilyth," he sounded my name out, every syllable grinding through my senses.
I crossed my arms in a dramatic gesture. "You think for one second that I am going to be your little slut bag while you go fuck about with any and every whore within your reach?"
I turned back to my dad, "How long?"
He tilted his head in question.
"How long do I have to stay married to my overpriced prison guard?"
Dad's tone sharpened. “You’ll speak with respect.”
“I am,” I blurted. “If he's about to be my husband, then isn’t honesty part of the vows?”
Sean moved slowly, closing the distance between us until he was close enough that I could see the faint shadow of stubble along his jaw. His voice dropped low, steady. “This marriage will benefit everyone, including you. This marriage will save you.”
His words were a life sentence.
“I don’t need saving. I need freedom,” I said. “The sooner both of you realize that, the sooner we can all move on and forget about this ridiculous arrangement.”
My father spoke as if dictating the terms of a contract. “This is final, Lily. This marriage is a condition of your freedom.”
I almost screamed, but laughter came instead, sharp and uninvited. “What do you get out of this, Dad? Because this isn’t charity.”
He smiled, patient and poisonous.
“What I get,” he said, “is consolidation. You are volatile. Beautiful, yes, but reckless. That combination needs structure. Together, you create balance, my power, his discipline, and your ability to draw attention. The board will see a legacy secured. The press will see control restored.”
His tone darkened, calculated. “With the Thompsons and the Macons aligned, the Holloway Group loses its footing."
I stared at him, disgusted. “You’re turning my marriage into a merger.”
“Of course I am,” he said. “What did you think marriage ever was?
Holloway has been leaking your affair with Matt to my board members for months.
At one time, Jim ran my PR, as well as the Macon Defense and Intelligence's Crisis PR. Now, he is stabbing me in the back. Not the first time. I should have seen it coming. This marriage forces our investors to remain loyal. It puts Holloway on the defensive while we rebuild every alliance he tried to poison. Within six months, they will be too weak to compete. That is the point of this union. Not sentiment. Strategy.”
I looked at Sean. He didn’t flinch. His posture was easy, but the confidence in his face said everything I needed to know. He wasn’t trapped in this either. He was in on it.
My voice came out quiet, almost detached. “And what does he get?”
Sean answered before my father could. “A seat.”
That single word carried weight.
He took a slow step forward, the air bending slightly around him.
“Your father controls one of the largest private security portfolios in the country. My company provides most of its intel operations. This marriage gives me a permanent seat at that table, along with a share in his global contracts. In exchange, I keep his daughter in check.”
“In check?” I repeated, my pulse spiking.
He met my eyes evenly. “You are a beautiful liability, Lily. Brilliant, unpredictable, and dangerous to anyone who underestimates you. I don’t plan to underestimate you. I plan to use that.”
My father nodded, pleased by the audacity. “He understands value. You should learn from that.”
I laughed, though it came out broken. “So that’s it. I’m a bargaining chip. He gets power. You get control. And I get to smile on cue for the cameras.”
“You get to watch Jim Holloway break. And Matt Taylor. Although he is an unfortunate casualty of the Thompson family. It's the way business goes."
I looked between them. Two men who spoke about me like I was an asset with teeth.
Sean’s eyes never left mine. "It's a partnership."
My father lifted his glass. “To partnership.”
I smiled thinly, picked up my wine, my hand tightening around the stem of the glass. “To power,” I said. “Since love never got either of you anywhere.”