Chapter 51 Crossing The Line
Damian's POV
The door closed behind the last board member with a quiet finality that did nothing to ease the pressure sitting in my chest. I didn’t wait. The moment the room cleared—
SLAM!
The folder hit the desk harder than necessary, the sound echoing through the empty conference room. My jaw tightened as I braced both hands against the polished surface, staring down at the scattered documents like they might rearrange themselves into something less complicated if I looked hard enough. They wouldn’t. The meeting had been brutal. Not because I hadn’t controlled it—I had.
But because fear had a way of spreading, even in rooms full of powerful people. Ardent Global was moving fast. Too fast. Acquisitions. Mergers. Quiet takeovers masked as strategic partnerships. And now—
They were asking the question out loud. Was McKay Enterprises next? I felt my expression harden as my fists coiled and uncoiled on the desk. Not a chance. I had made that very clear. Painfully clear. Still—
Fear didn’t disappear just because you told it to.
I exhaled sharply, reaching for my phone without thinking. There was only one person I wanted to hear right now. The call rang once. Twice—
“Hey.”
Courtney’s voice. Soft. Familiar. Grounding. And just like that—
The tension in my shoulders eased.
“How’d it go?” I asked, already leaning back slightly in my chair.
“Good,” she replied. “Actually… really good. They cleared me. Full recovery.”
My eyes closed briefly. Relief. Immediate.
“Good,” I said, quieter now.
“I told you I’d be fine,” she added, and I could almost see the smile from the sound of her voice.
“I know,” I breathed out.
A beat. Then—
“How was your meeting?” she asked. “Total horror show?”
I let out a long sigh, dragging a hand through my hair.
“That’s one way to describe it.”
There was a pause. Not awkward. Just—
Space. And then, before I could stop myself—
“I miss you.”
The words left my mouth like they had been waiting there all day.
I stilled. Blinking slightly as the weight of what I just said caught up to me. Did I just say that out loud? I almost laughed. Almost. Because I could already picture her—
Staring at her phone like it had betrayed her. Then—
“I miss you too.”
I let out a quiet chuckle, shaking my head.
“Although,” Courtney added, amusement creeping in, “that sounds incredibly cheesy considering we saw each other this morning.”
I leaned back fully now, the tension easing just a fraction more.
“Is it?” I asked dryly.
“Very,” she replied. “Are you becoming cheesy, Mr. McKay?”
I huffed a soft laugh. “Don’t get used to it.”
“Too late.” That—
That felt normal. For a moment.
“I’ll come by your office later,” I said. “Dad wants us to meet him for dinner.”
“Okay,” she said easily. “I’ll be ready.”
“Good.”
Another pause. Short. But meaningful.
“Drive safe,” she added quietly.
My grip on the phone tightened slightly.
“Always do.”
We hung up. And just like that—
The calm faded. Reality came rushing back in. A knock sounded at the door.
“Come in.”
My assistant stepped inside, moving quickly but not hurried—efficient, composed. Until I saw the folder in his hand. That—
That wasn’t routine. The folder was placed on the desk. Opened. And immediately—
My stomach dropped as my pulse hammered in my ears. Surveillance photos. Multiple angles. Distances. Each one carefully taken. Each one intentional.
My family. Marcus and Anna. Peter at practice with his team at Stanford. Courtney at the hospital. Even—
The Ramsey sisters. Bella and Portia at the cabin. Elena with her trainer. Watched. Tracked. Mapped. Subtle. But not subtle enough.
My jaw tightened as I watched the photos.
“Have Isabella and Portia left the cabin safely?” I asked without looking up.
“Yes, sir,” his assistant replied, handing over a confirmation note. “Our team is with them.”
I scanned it quickly. Verified. Good.
“They don’t leave their hotel without security,” I said. “Not even for five minutes.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And I want eyes on that building 24/7.”
“Already in place.”
I nodded once. There was no room for error anymore. Not now. Not when we were this close. Those documents—
If Peter Ramsey had kept records…
If anything was solidifying his ties to Ardent Global—
It would change everything. Or confirm it. Neither option was good. But it was a move in the right direction.
My assistant’s phone rang. He answered quickly, stepping slightly aside. A brief exchange. Short. Then he hung up.
“Sir,” he said.
I didn’t like that tone.
“What is it?”
“Daniel Hargrove was found dead.”
My head snapped up. “…What?”
“At a motel,” my assistant continued. “Initial report says suicide.”
A beat.
“But?”
“Our people don’t think so.”
Of course, they didn’t. Because nothing about this situation was a coincidence anymore. I leaned back slowly, exhaling through my nose. Hargrove was needed alive. Another piece removed.
Another loose end tied off—
By Felicia Ardent.
My phone buzzed now. Once. A message. Unknown number. I picked it up, my thumb hovering for half a second before opening it. And then—
Everything stopped. The image filled the screen. My father. Sitting at a table in a restaurant. Across from him—
Felicia Ardent. Smiling. My grip tightened around the phone. Hard. Too hard. Beneath the image—
Text. Simple. Chilling.
How alarmed does your father have to be before his heart condition flares up again?
For a moment—
Nothing. No sound. No movement. Just—
Stillness. Then—
Something cold settled in my chest. Not panic. Not fear. Something far worse. Precision. Control. Intent. I narrowed my eyes, my expression going completely unreadable as I looked at the image again. Felicia wasn’t escalating. She had already escalated. This—
This was a message. A warning. A test.
My assistant shifted slightly.
“Sir…?”
I lowered the phone slowly. Deliberately. Every movement controlled. Measured. But my voice—
When it came—
It was different. Colder. Sharper.
“Get me my father's location,” I said.
No hesitation. No doubt.
“And lock down every exit within a two-block radius.”
My assistant moved instantly.
“Yes, sir.”
My gaze didn’t leave the screen. Didn’t leave her. Felicia Ardent. Sitting across from my father like she hadn’t just crossed a line that couldn’t be uncrossed.
“You wanted control,” I murmured under my breath. My grip tightened again. “But you just made a mistake.”
Because this—
This was war. And she had just given me a reason to stop playing by her rules.