Chapter 14 The Queen’s Gambit.
Chloe’s POV.
Liam’s arms were the only thing keeping me upright on the cold marble floor. My scream still echoed inside my skull, raw and broken, mixing with the doctor’s words on repeat: breathing failed… funding stopped… county ward.
I shoved at his chest with everything I had left. “Let go of me!” My voice cracked like glass. “You did this! You or Margaret, it’s the same blood!”
He didn’t release me. If anything, his grip tightened, one arm locked around my waist and the other cradling the back of my head like he was afraid I’d shatter.
“I didn’t cut the funding, Chloe, I swear on my life,” he rasped against my temple. “That was Margaret. She’s declaring war.”
I tried to twist free, but he dropped to his knees with me, pulling me into his lap. My whole body shook so violently that my teeth chattered.
His phone was already at his ear before I could draw another breath. “Dr. Patel, Liam Astor. Override every stop order on the Carter account right now. Reinstate full funding, double the daily limit and fly in Dr. Chen from Boston tonight. Private jet, I want confirmation in sixty seconds.” He didn’t wait for pleasantries; he just ended the call.
Second call. “Brian. Emergency trustee vote, 7 a.m. tomorrow. I want Margaret removed as trustee before the market opens. Use every proxy I have.”
Then there comes the third call. “Legal. Freeze every account Margaret Astor can touch. Medical trusts, discretionary funds, offshore and everything. Do it now.”
He hung up and cupped my face with both hands, thumbs wiping tears I couldn’t stop. “Breathe, baby. She’s safe. I’ve got her.”
My phone, the one I’d hurled onto the couch in rage, buzzed twice. I didn’t even reach for it, but Liam’s eyes flicked over. The screen lit his face in cold blue.
The first message was from an unknown number: Heard you might need a better offer. Dinner tomorrow? – Alexander Voss
Then the second message was from Olivia. Margaret is shopping dirt to every tabloid in Manhattan, but she still has zero proof that the engagement is fake.
She’s fishing and at the same time, I’m watching. Liam’s jaw turned to granite. He snatched the phone, long thumb swiping, deleted Voss’s text, blocked the number and tossed the phone back like it burned him.
I stared at him, chest heaving. “You said no strings attached, remember? That was literally the first line of your contract.”
His eyes flashed, dangerous and bright. “That was before I realized I can’t fucking breathe when another man looks at you.”
The confession hung between us, raw and unexpected. I had no answer.
A soft ping, hospital confirmation, "funding fully restored. Mrs. Carter is a bit stable now. Dr. Chen airborne, ETA 4 hours."
I exhaled so hard that my ribs ached. Relief tasted metallic. I pushed off his lap, legs unsteady. “I’m done, Liam.” My voice didn’t shake anymore. “Done being the pawn, you and your grandmother move around the board. I have the recording of Margaret threatening my mother’s life. I have the patent proof. I have my friend Olivia, who can attest to that, too! That means I have power now.”
He stood slowly, towering, but for once, he didn’t crowd me. “Then use it,” he said quietly.
“I will.” I lifted my chin. “But if you want me to stay in this deal, it gets rewritten tonight. My terms: no more threats against my family. No more sleeping on the couch like a dog. Equal say in every decision that touches my life, or I walk tomorrow with everything I have and watch both of you burn.”
His pupils flared. He looked like a man staring down the barrel of a gun he’d handed me himself.
After a long second, he nodded once. “Twenty-four-hour truce. I prove I can be the partner you deserve. After the board vote tomorrow, we will renegotiate your rules.”
I didn’t trust my voice, so I just nodded. He stepped back, giving me space for the first time in months. “The guest room is yours tonight.”
I walked past him without another word, locked the door behind me and cried myself to sleep on a pillow that didn’t smell like him.
The next morning, Astor Industries tower. I was at my temporary desk on the executive floor, hair twisted in a severe knot and black suit sharp enough to cut glass, when the elevator dinged.
Alexander Voss stepped out like he owned the building. Charcoal Tom Ford suit and no tie, dark hair just messy enough to look deliberate. Marcus tried to intercept, but Voss simply smiled that slow, lethal smile and said, “I’m here to see Liam Astor. Old friends.”
Marcus glanced at me. I gave the tiniest nod. Two minutes later, Voss strolled into my office unescorted, carrying a thick cream folder embossed with the Voss Capital crest.
“Miss Carter.” He closed the door, leaned against it, and his eyes traveled over me with open appreciation. “You look like a woman ready to take empires apart.”
I didn’t smile. “How did you get my private number?” “Trade secret.” He crossed the room, placed the folder in front of me and flipped it open himself.
My breath caught on the first page, the immediate return of Daniel Carter’s clean-energy patent to its rightful owner. Page two: $250 million restitution settlement, wired today.
Then the third page is a lifetime irrevocable medical trust for Mrs. Carter, untouchable by any Astor, while the fourth page is a deed to an oceanfront estate in Malibu or a penthouse triplex on Park Avenue, my choice and the fifth page is a five-year, $50 million ambassador contract to be the global face of Voss Renewable, making me one of the most recognizable women on the planet.
And at the bottom, handwritten in bold ink: No contracts in the bedroom. Just mutual respect… and whatever else you decide you want from me. – A.V.
I looked up. He was watching me like a man who already knew he’d won.
“All you have to do is say yes, Chloe. Walk out of here with me right now and the Astors become a footnote.”
The door flew open so hard it bounced off the wall. Liam stood there, face carved from ice, eyes promising murder.
Voss didn’t even flinch. “Liam. Perfect timing. I was just extending an offer to your fiancée.”
Liam’s gaze cut to me, lethal and possessive. “Get out.” I stood slowly. “I invited him up.” The temperature in the room dropped ten degrees.
Voss chuckled.
“I’ll let you two discuss. Chloe, my jet leaves tomorrow night. The offer stands until sunrise.” He walked out, brushing past Liam without fear.
The door clicked shut. Silence stretched like a wire about to snap. Liam’s voice was deadly quiet. “You’re considering it.”
“I’m considering every option that keeps my mother breathing,” I said. “Including the one standing in front of me.” His throat worked and he looked like I’d punched him.
My phone buzzed on the desk. It is Olivia, Kim’s tell-all, which just got bumped to live at 9 a.m. tomorrow. But I pulled the raw feed. Hot mic gold: Kim bragging Margaret paid her $2 million to “get rid of the waitress.” Sending now.
I turned the screen so Liam could see. His eyes narrowed to slits. “Margaret just handed us the rope to hang her with,” I said. He exhaled, some of the murderous rage draining. “We use it tomorrow.” “On my terms,” I reminded him. He nodded once. “On your terms.”
That night, I slept, or didn’t sleep, in the guest room again with the door locked.
At 3:17 a.m., an envelope slid under the door. Thick, cream, and the same stationery as Voss’s folder, but this one had the Astor crest. Inside a brand-new partnership agreement.
15% non-dilutable voting shares in Astor Industries were transferred to Chloe Carter immediately.
Full veto power over any medical or financial decision concerning the Carter family.
A single-page escape clause: I could walk away tomorrow with everything listed and never owe the Astors a cent.
On top, in Liam’s sharp handwriting, "My Fiancée – L"
He had crossed out the word “Fake” so hard that the paper almost tore.
I stared at those pages until the sun came up, with my heart hammering and thinking if this is another setup for her from Liam, because he's so wise and smart in taking actions.
Around 6:55 a.m. the next morning, I walked into the Astor boardroom in a black suit that cost more than my old apartment, hair in a sleek ponytail so severe it could slice diamonds, heels clicking like gunshots. Liam walked half a step behind me, silent.
The grandfather and Margaret sat at the head of the table, pearls tight, smiles venomous. “Well. The little gold-digger finally learned to dress the part.” Margaret uttered.
The board, twelve men and three women in bespoke suits, watched like I was a bomb about to go off.
I stopped at the center of the long mahogany table and placed three items down, one by one.
It was a small black USB. “Recording of Margaret Astor threatening to murder my mother by pulling her medical funding.” Gasps rippled.
It was the glossy Voss Capital folder. “A competing offer from Alexander Voss that makes your entire empire look like pocket change.” Margaret’s smirk faltered and the third one was Liam’s new partnership contract, the one that gave me 15% of everything his family had bled for. I looked around the room, voice steady, ice-cold, and utterly unafraid.
“Before anyone votes on removing Margaret as trustee to go and rest because of her age,” I said, “I have a counter-proposal of my own.”
I let the silence stretch, enjoying the way every pair of eyes was glued to me.
Then I smiled, small and sharp. “Let’s renegotiate who actually runs this table.” Liam stood behind me, hands clasped, pride and terror warring on his beautiful face. He had no idea which way I would turn. Neither did I yet, but for the first time since a spilled drink ruined my life, I was the one holding all the cards and I was going to play every single one.