Chapter 12 Leverage and Late-Night Deals.
Chloe’s POV
I stood hidden behind the bedroom door with the USB clenched tight in my fist, watching Liam grab Kim's wrist hard and twist it until she winced, then he said in a low voice, “Looks like we all have leverage now,” his voice calm but dangerous, like ice cracking under pressure.
He stood up fully awake, still naked, just putting on his pants from earlier, muscles tense under the dim lamplight, pulling Kim by the arm into the living room, closing the bedroom door.
He remained firm in his stance, leaving me in complete darkness except for the thin line of light under the door. I pressed my ear against the wood, immediately hearing every word clearly as he demanded, “What are you doing here with that folder at this hour?” Sharp and controlled, no sleep left in his tone.
Kim laughed lightly but nervously, the sound echoing off the suite walls, saying she stole it from Margaret's private files back at the estate in New York to force Liam to dump me for her once and for all right now.
“Sign it, Liam, and we end this little game with the waitress you picked up,” she said, papers rustling loud as she waved them.
Liam snatched the folder from her hand, ripping pages deliberately one by one, slow tears filling the quiet, saying, “Get out before I call security for real this time. No more games, Kim. You crossed the line.”
She yanked her arm free, furious, heels stomping, promising, “You'll regret this; I know too much about your deals and your secrets.” Then the suite door opened and slammed behind her hard enough that the walls shook.
Silence fell heavy, broken only by Liam's footsteps pacing, then the couch creaking as he sat. I slid down the door, sitting on the carpet, USB now tucked safe in my bra, with my heart pounding loud because leverage cut both ways and I had proof on him now.
I stayed there minutes, maybe hours, brain spinning through everything from the contract signing to the gala, sex, and my dad's envelope until exhaustion pulled me to bed, USB secure.
Morning hit with harsh sunlight blasting through the curtains. Liam unlocked the door, walking in with strong black coffee steam rising, wearing gray sweats low on his hips, and with messy hair from sleep.
He handed me the cup without eye contact, saying we fly back to New York now for an emergency board meeting at Astor Industries—no discussion, just pack.
I sipped the coffee black, needing the bitter burn to wake fully, then quickly packed jeans, tops, and underwear, folding them neatly, and hid the USB deep in my left shoe under the insole, pressing firmly so it stayed flat.
The jet waited at the same private airstrip with leather seats and cool champagne offered, but Liam declined, immediately working on his laptop, completely ignoring me, fingers flying over keys and emails pinging.
I pulled out my phone carefully under the table, texting Olivia long messages, spilling everything, not just boss and PA stuff anymore, like she thought, and not equally enemies from the lounge firing months ago.
“It's a fake engagement contract debt on my dad from Astor Sr., Mom’s hospital bills, full control, sex threats, power of attorney, everything, Olivia. I’m trapped. Please, I need you to believe me.”
I typed, hitting send, then more details: “He fucks me like payment keeps Dad away. I paid him hush money. I have proof on a USB.” She replied fast, “Already on it, from USB prints coming. Believe you, always here for you.” Liam stood for a call with Brian, pacing the narrow aisle, phone to ear, saying, “Speed up the power of attorney filing; make sure it's ironclad—no leaks, no weaknesses—file today,” voice low but clear in the quiet cabin.
I stared out the window, clouds thick below, deciding Olivia was my only trust left besides family, crumbling under Astor's weight; she promised to side always after texts.
The flight dragged on for hours with light turbulence, but my stomach knotted tighter, landing smoothly in New York's gray skies. The car went straight to the Astor Industries tower, glass shining tall, downtown traffic honking below.
Elevator up fast to the top floor boardroom; a long mahogany table, polished; executives seated in suits and crisp ties; straight coffee smelled strong. Liam presented me as his fiancée right away, with his hand on my lower back, firm and possessive, for approval on a new merger deal needing a family stability image to close investors.
“Chloe Carter soon Astor, my future wife,” he said, smiling charmingly for them. The board nodded approval, murmuring positive pens signing. Margaret called in via video screen, large face, elegant pearls, tight eyes, subtly but pointedly questioning my background: “Where did you meet again? Liam and her family history seem modest for our name; perhaps share more on her roots.”
Hinting at the debt she dug up, paying a private investigator for dirt on my poor apartment eviction notices and Mom's illness to stop the marriage, not knowing I was the daughter of their ruined former partner, Carter, who they crushed.
“Love at first sight, Grandmother, at a club, spilled drink, fate,” Liam said smoothly, covering, but I felt her suspicion growing; she thought the real love from our estate visit story was a lie we fed her.
A break came mid-session, coffee refill. I slipped out to the restroom, heart racing, pushing the door, meeting Olivia, who sneaked in through the service entrance with a fake badge and printed emails from the USB in a thick folder showing Liam's clear funding threats to hospital admin.
“Look at these,” she said, spreading papers on the sink counter. “He emailed cut payments if you step on the wrong date stamped last week.” She added that she hacked deeper into Astor's servers, proving Liam paid my dad to stay away years ago with wire transfers and old bank statements.
“Ten grand monthly to Jersey account, your dad's name signed, Liam's grandfather and Liam starting five years back, hush money.” I stared, shocked, hands shaking.
“He kept Dad silent all this time and bought his absence, whispering because Olivia decided to be helpful after my desperate texts and be by my side as a friend, the only trust left in this mess.
“We fight this together, Chloe. I got your back—prints, copies, hacks, whatever,” she said, hugging me quickly and tightly before I hid the folder in my purse, rushing back to the boardroom while sliding into my seat beside Liam with one suspecting me.
The meeting ended, and the merger was approved. Handshakes and congratulations. Liam took me to his private office corner suite with floor-to-ceiling windows, a city view desk, and a massive leather chair.
He locked the door fast, cornering me on the desk, lifting my skirt, and pushing my panties aside. “Quick, this buys your mom's next bill payment for a full month,” he whispered, his dark eyes intense, unzipping his pants, his cock already hard.
I knelt under duress on the carpet, knees aching, mouth opening, taking his thick cock deep throat, bobbing head slow at first, building speed, tongue swirling, shaft licking, sucking hard, vacuum tight, while he groaned low, hands fisting my hair, guiding rough thrusting hips gently into my mouth, wet sounds filling the room, saliva dripping down my chin, eyes watering, tears streaking, but I kept going, deep throating, gagging slightly, until he tensed, balls tight, coming hot spurts down my throat, forcing me to swallow the bitter taste. “Good girl, pay up, keep Mom breathing,” he muttered, zipping up and wiping my mouth with his rough thumb. Midway knocks hard, Marcus's voice urgent through the door.
“Chloe's dad is in the lobby demanding her, sir, shouting at security.” Liam zips up fast, his face shifting to the door, opens it, and tells Marcus to escort him up now immediately, with no delay.
Dad burst into the office door, banging it open wide, yelling at Liam, “You ruined my life with that loan setup; You know you're using my daughter like a pawn,” face red, veins popping, fists clenched.
He revealed to me that Liam's grandfather forced him out, not just because of debt failure but also because he set up a scandal, planting evidence of idea theft to steal his startup patent for clean energy tech worth millions, now under the Astor name. Liam admits partial truth, leaning casually on the desk, arms crossed. “It was business, cutthroat. Your dad stole ideas, too. Competition is fair.” Calm and collected, but Dad shook his head, furious, grabbing my arm tight. “No lies. Come with me. We leave now, Chloe. Pack nothing.”
I pulled back gently but firmly. “Dad, wait, explain. Not here.” But Liam opened the safe, pulling out a thick envelope. Fifty thousand cash. Take it and disappear again like before. Sign the NDA and go.”
Dad refused, slapping the envelope away, bills scattering on the floor. “Not this time. You Astors destroyed family business life—everything.”
Suspense built thick. Liam called security on the cold intercom to “remove this man from the lobby now for trespassing,” and guards rushed in, but I stopped them at the door, begging loudly.
“Private talk, please, five minutes,” leading Dad to empty the conference room next door, closing the blinds and pulling the chairs. He showed old, yellowed, faded letters proving Astor Sr. blackmailed him with fake theft claims and doctored emails to steal the business patent outright.
“See signatures, threats, jail, or sign over,” he said, voice breaking, tears welling. I read every word of the clear, heartfelt proof fast. I confronted Liam, bursting back into the office and slamming the door.
“You knew all this. Grandfather stole, not borrowed.” But he denied it, smooth eyes shifting slightly. “Old history, business rumors, Dad is bitter.” Lying, but I saw a flicker of guilt.
Chaos rose, voices loud and overlapping, Dad yelling at me, questioning Liam, defending.
I stole his office key from the desk during the argument, palming it smooth, slipping out, excusing myself to the bathroom again, quickly going into his file room, adjacent dark cabinets, tall and dusty.
Finding the original patent folder thick under the Astor name, scanning pages, quick history assignments and photographing every document with the phone flash off and silent, but I heard footsteps approaching the heavy, deliberate door.
I hid behind the tall cabinet, breathing shallowly, pressed flat as the door opened creaking. Margaret walked in with Leo and Lucy's parents, I guess, with stern faces, but they had never seen me physically before, Margaret said coldly.
“If Chloe's digging, we end her mother's care tonight, cut funding, and frame her dad for fraud again on old charges” because she learned I contacted Dad trying to communicate through texts and calls.
Leo nodded firmly. “Clean it up permanently.” Lucy quietly and hesitantly said, “Necessary for family.” Liam entered behind them fast, spotting my shoe sticking out, a slight black heel. He covered it quickly, voice steady: “False alarm, nothing here, files secure, go,” ushering them out.
Parents leave with a muttering agreement. He locks the door with a click. Facing me, photos open on my phone screen, “Delete them now, or I press send on funding cancellation right now.
The hospital gets an email: ‘Mom unplugged.’” Holding my phone, hand frozen, fingers hovering over the delete button, sirens wail outside the building, loud and growing closer, and red and blue lights flash through the windows.