“Maybe,” he admitted, “but I’m not scared of them, and I’m not letting them take you.” “Why?” Amelia asked. “Why do you care what happens to me?” Lucas didn’t have a good answer, or rather, he had an answer he wasn’t ready to say out loud. “Because you saved my home,” he said instead, “and I protect what’s mine.
” It wasn’t the whole truth, but it was enough for now. Inside, Emma was helping Mason stack blocks in the living room. She looked up when they entered, immediately sensing something wrong. “Who were those men?” “Nobody important,” Amelia said, her voice steady again. “Just some people from my old job.” “Are they going to make you leave?” “No, sweetheart.
I’m staying right here.” Emma studied her face, then nodded, satisfied. She went back to the blocks. Mason knocked them over, giggling. The normal domestic chaos resumed like nothing had happened, but Lucas saw the tension in Amelia’s shoulders, the way her hands wouldn’t stop moving, the fear she was trying to hide.
They were coming for her, and this time running wouldn’t be enough. That night, after Emma and Mason were both asleep, Amelia sat at the kitchen table with her laptop open, her face illuminated by the blue glow of the screen. Lucas found her there at midnight, still typing furiously. “You should sleep,” he said. “Can’t.
I need to figure out how they tracked the money.” Her eyes never left the screen. “And I need to build a case.” “A case for what?” “For why the board had no legal right to remove me, for why their vote was invalid, for why I still own controlling interest in Sterling Enterprises, whether they like it or not.” Lucas pulled out a chair and sat down across from her.
“You’re going back.” “Eventually, but not because they want me to. Because I’m going to take back what’s mine.” She finally looked up, and her expression was harder than he’d ever seen it. “They thought they could wait me out, thought I’d come crawling back desperate and willing to accept whatever scraps they offered.
But I’m done being manageable.” “What does that mean?” It means I’m going to fight, really fight, and it’s going to get ugly.” “How ugly?” Amelia closed the laptop. “The kind of ugly that ends up in newspapers, courtrooms, the kind that destroys reputations and burns bridges and leaves nothing standing when it’s over.
” “And you’re okay with that?” “I don’t have a choice. If I don’t fight now, they’ll own me forever. They’ll use me as a figurehead while stripping away everything I built. I can’t let that happen.” Lucas understood that kind of desperation, the kind that came from having your back against a wall with no way out except through.
“What do you need?” he asked. “Time, space to work, and maybe” She hesitated. “Maybe someone who believes I’m not crazy for trying.” “You’re not crazy.” “Richard thinks I am. The board thinks I am. My ex-husband spent 2 years convincing everyone I was too emotional, too unstable, too female to run a company properly.
” Her voice went tight. “So, yeah, having someone believe I’m capable means something.” “I believe you’re capable of anything. That’s what scares me.” Amelia almost smiled. “Should I take that as a compliment?” “Take it however you want. Just don’t burn yourself out before the fight even starts.
” She nodded and stood, closing the laptop. “I’ll try to sleep. No promises.” Lucas watched her head upstairs, then sat alone in the dark kitchen, wondering how long they had before Caldwell and his people came back with a bigger hammer. The answer came sooner than expected. 3 days later, Lucas got a call from the bank.
The woman on the other end was professional but cold, her words carefully chosen. “Mr. Hayes, we need to discuss some irregularities with your recent mortgage payment.” Lucas felt ice in his stomach. “What irregularities?” “The source of the funds. We’ve received notice that the money may have been transferred improperly. Until we can verify the legitimacy of the transaction, we’re placing a hold on your account.
” “You can’t do that.” “I’m afraid we can, sir. It’s standard procedure when fraud is suspected.” “There’s no fraud. That money was a loan from a friend.” “We’ll need documentation, loan agreements, tax statements, proof of the originating account’s legitimacy. Until then, the hold remains in place.” Lucas hung up, hands shaking with rage.
He found Amelia in the barn trying to fix a broken water trough with determination and no actual skill. “They’re freezing my account,” he said without preamble. Amelia’s face went pale. “What?” “The bank. They got a call about fraud, about your money transfer.” He wanted to punch something. “This was Caldwell, wasn’t it? This is him trying to force you back.
” “Probably. Or someone on the board who wants to prove I’m unstable by showing I’m throwing money around recklessly.” She set down the wrench, her expression stricken. “Lucas, I’m so sorry.” “Don’t apologize. Just tell me how to fix it. I’ll I’ll call the bank, provide whatever documentation they need, prove the money was legitimate.
And if that’s not enough?” “Then I’ll pay your mortgage directly, bypass the whole thing.” “Amelia, I’m not letting them use you to get to me. I won’t.” But it got worse before it got better. That afternoon, Emma came home from school crying again. This time, a teacher had pulled her aside to ask if everything was okay at home, if the woman living with them was a relative, if Emma felt safe.
“They think something bad is happening,” Emma sobbed. “They asked if you were hurting me or if Amelia was mean to me, and I said no, but they didn’t believe me.” Lucas held his daughter, fury building in his chest. “It’s okay, sweetheart. They’re just checking, making sure you’re safe.” “But I am safe. Why don’t they believe me?” Because someone had planted doubt.
