Chapter 41 Devil's Transaction
The rain didn’t just fall; it punished the city. Alex sat in his truck outside Sarah’s house, the wipers slashing across the windshield in a rhythmic, violent blur. He watched the lights in her bedroom window flicker and then die. He knew she was in there, probably staring at the ceiling, feeling the weight of the frozen accounts and the cooling embers of her reputation. He felt like a monster. He was the son of the man holding the knife to her throat, and yet he was the only one who could stop the blade from sinking in.
He looked at his phone. The "Integrity Audit" was a noose, and Richard was pulling it tight. Alex realized that his father didn't just want a merger; he wanted a surrender.
He took a deep breath, the cold air in the truck cabin smelling of damp leather and his own desperation. He dialed his father’s personal line.
Richard answered on the first ring, his voice sounding as if he had been waiting by the phone with a glass of scotch in hand.
"I assumed I’d hear from you before the sun came up, Alex. The silence was starting to get expensive for your friend."
"Stop the audit, Richard," Alex said, his voice dropping into a low, lethal register.
"I’m not asking. I’m telling you. Pull your legal dogs off Sarah’s Interior Decor. Now."
"And why would I do that?" Richard asked, the sound of ice clinking against glass coming through the speaker.
"I have the momentum. I have the board. By noon, I’ll own her talent and her contract. It’s just good business."
"It’s not business. It’s a ransom," Alex snapped. "I know about the Vane debt. I know you bought the predatory loans on the Veridian land just so you could squeeze the developers into dropping Sarah. I have enough of my grandfather’s money to buy those loans back from you at three times the market value. I’ll make you richer, or I’ll make you look like a fool in front of the board. Your choice."
There was a long silence. Alex could almost see his father’s eyes narrowing, calculating the math of the threat.
"You’d spend your entire inheritance to save a woman who told you to get out of her house?" Richard asked, his tone shifting from patronizing to genuinely curious.
"That’s not the Harrington way, son. That’s martyrdom. It’s pathetic."
"It’s not martyrdom. It’s a trade," Alex said, his grip tightening on the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white.
"You want me in that chair? You want the heir to return to the throne? Fine. I’ll come to the board meeting tomorrow. I’ll stand next to you. I’ll play the part of the loyal son. I’ll give you the dynasty you’ve been begging for."
"And the price?" Richard whispered.
"You stand up in front of the Veridian board and you tell them that your 'extensive review' has proven Sarah’s firm is the only one fit for the job. You put the weight of the Harrington Group behind her. You make her untouchable. If she loses that contract, you lose me. Forever. I’ll disappear so deep you won’t find me with a satellite."
Richard let out a soft, appreciative hum.
"You’re bargaining with your life, Alex. You’d give up your freedom to give her a contract?"
"I’d give up everything for her," Alex replied. "Do we have a deal, or do I start calling the newspapers about the Vane files?"
"The Vane files are a suicide vest, Alex. If you blow me up, you blow yourself up too," Richard reminded him.
"I don't care about my future if she doesn't have hers," Alex said. "Decide what it's going to be, Richard."
"Fine," Richard said, his voice turning cold and businesslike.
"The audit will be cleared by 9:00 AM. I’ll expect you at the boardroom by 11:00. Wear a suit, Alex. Try to look like someone who owns the world."
The line went dead. Alex dropped the phone into the cup holder and leaned his head back against the seat. He had saved her. He had won the war for her career, but he had just signed the warrant for his own soul. He would have to walk into that boardroom and watch Sarah’s face when she realized who he really was. He would have to see the betrayal in her eyes when she saw him standing at Richard Harrington’s side.
He looked back at the dark house. He wanted to run to her door. He wanted to pin her against the wall and tell her that he adored her, that he was doing this because he couldn't breathe in a world where she was broken. He wanted to show her the dominant, protective man she had fallen for one last time before the Harrington name swallowed him whole.
"I'm doing this for you, Sarah," he whispered to the rain. "Even if you hate me for it."
He put the truck in gear and pulled away from the curb. He was going to tell her the truth, perhaps. Maybe when he had made peace with the truth, he would tell her.
That's if she wanted to even see his face.