Chapter 52 Correction

Chapter 52 Correction
Felicia Ardent's POV

I folded my hands neatly atop the tablecloth as I studied the man seated across from me. Richard McKay. Time had not been kind to him. The realization was almost disappointing. Once upon a time, Richard McKay had commanded rooms without effort. He had possessed the kind of presence that made lesser men second-guess themselves before speaking. A strategist. A builder. A predator in tailored suits and expensive watches. Now? Now I could see the strain etched into him. The slight pallor beneath his skin. The careful way he breathed. The tension in his shoulders that hinted at exhaustion rather than authority. Even the silence around him felt different. Not commanding. Guarded.

I tilted my head ever so slightly. Interesting.
The restaurant itself was intentionally understated—private, quiet, hidden behind exclusivity rather than spectacle. Dim amber lighting reflected softly against polished glass and dark wood while muted piano music drifted through the background. Richard hadn’t touched the drink sitting in front of him. Another observation. Another tell.
“You’ve been avoiding me,” I said smoothly.
Richard’s tired eyes lifted toward mine.
“I wasn’t aware we were acquaintances.”

His voice still carried remnants of the man he used to be, sharp enough to cut. But weaker now. Slower. I smiled faintly.
“No,” I agreed softly. “Not acquaintances.”
Something more complicated than that. Something buried beneath years of business, secrets, and choices neither of us could fully separate anymore.
Richard leaned back slightly in his chair, though the movement looked more uncomfortable than relaxed.
“You shouldn’t have contacted me directly,” he said.
“And yet you came.”
His jaw tightened. I watched it happen. Every micro-expression mattered. Every shift in breathing. Every glance.

I had spent years learning how to dismantle people long before they realized they were being taken apart. Richard McKay was no exception.
“I came,” he replied carefully, “because threatening messages involving my family tend to get my attention.”
I felt my lips curved slowly.
“So you received the photos.”
Not a question. Richard’s eyes hardened immediately.
“You have no right to blend yourself into my children's lives. You had no right to have your people so close to Marcus and Anna. And you better know better than to have someone sneaking around Peter. If he puts someone in the hospital, I'll turn a blind eye to it.”
There it was. The line.
"My, my, look at you. Raising your voice to defend the young woman you almost destroyed when they were in high school. How the great have fallen."

I rested back slightly in my seat. Amused by the way his face flared with a mixture of anger and disdain.
“Your children involved themselves,” I corrected. “There’s a difference.”
Richard stared at me for a long moment.
“You’re dangerous,” he said quietly.
I almost laughed. Almost.
“Coming from you,” I murmured, “that’s rather ironic.”
His gaze sharpened. But he didn’t deny it. That interested me more than outrage would have. Most people tried to rewrite history as they aged. They softened themselves. Romanticized their sins. Richard McKay did not seem interested in pretending innocence. That was respectable. In a way.
“You’ve stirred up quite a mess,” he said after a moment.

I picked up my wine glass delicately, swirling the dark liquid once before setting it back down untouched.
“Messes imply disorder,” I replied. “This has all been very intentional.”
Richard exhaled heavily through his nose. The irritation was there now. Good. That meant the conversation was moving beyond caution.
“You’re watching my family. I won't allow it to continue. If you have a problem, come at me. Leave them out of it.”
“I’m monitoring variables. Your old friend Peter Ramsey made it sound like the McKay children were mere pawns.”
His eyes darkened.
“They’re people.”
I held his gaze evenly.
“Oh, now you think so. You sang a very different song back then.”
A dangerous answer. I knew it immediately by the way his expression shifted. Not anger. Not exactly. Disappointment. That surprised me more than rage would have.

Richard leaned forward slightly.
“When did you become this?” he asked quietly.
I lifted my brows just slightly.
“This?”
“This cold.”
Ah. There it was. The assumption that cruelty appeared overnight. That monsters arrived fully formed.
My smile faded.
“You think men like you didn’t pave the path to what I've become?” I asked softly.
Richard didn’t answer immediately. Perhaps because he knew the truth. I continued before he could speak.
“Do you know what the difference is between us, Richard?”
His silence permitted to continue.
“You built systems to protect legacy,” I said. “I learned how to survive inside them.”

The faintest flicker crossed his face then. Recognition. Not a full understanding. But enough. I looked away briefly, letting my gaze drift toward the rain beginning to streak softly against the restaurant windows. Grey skies. Storm clouds. The city dimming beneath it all. Appropriate.
“You sound like your mother. She underestimated people the same way you're underestimating Damian,” Richard said suddenly.
My gaze snapped back to him at lightning speed.
“No,” I replied calmly. “I underestimated his attachments.”
That was the truth. And I disliked truth when it exposed flaws in my calculations. Courtney Bennett. His brothers. Even the Ramsey sisters. Instead of weakening him, they had sharpened him. Focused him. Made him more dangerous.

Richard noticed the shift in my expression. Of course he did. A faint smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.
“You see it now.”
I said nothing.
Because silence was an answer enough. Richard leaned back again, slower this time.
“He gets that from his mother. She never left anything to chance,” he said quietly.
Something about the statement lingered oddly in the air. I studied him carefully. There it was again That exhaustion. Not physical this time. Emotional. Old grief. Old guilt.
“And how did that help her in the end? Can Eleanor reap her rewards today?” I asked, knowing for a fact that I would strike a nerve.

Richard went still. Completely still.
“She was the light of our lives. Everything she did then, served a purpose now.”
The immediate response confirmed far more than the words themselves.
I tilted my head slightly.
“Still protective after all these years.”
Richard’s expression hardened dangerously.
“Leave my wife's name out of your games.”
There it was. Not fear for himself. Fear for his family. Predictable.

I leaned forward slightly now, lowering my voice just enough to sharpen the intimacy of the moment.
“This stopped being a game a long time ago.”
Richard held my stare.
“And what exactly is it now?”
A fair question. One I considered carefully. Because the honest answer? Complicated. This was no longer just about Ardent Global. Or information pipelines. Or corporate leverage. This had evolved. Shifted. People were moving independently now. Digging too deeply. Threatening structures they did not fully understand. And Damian—
Damian McKay was beginning to see too much.

My gaze sharpened faintly.
“It’s correction,” I said at last.
Richard let out a dry, humorless laugh.
“You really believe that.”
“Yes.”
“That’s the problem.”
Silence settled again. Heavy. Measured. I observed him carefully once more. The slight tremor in his hand near the untouched glass. The fatigue beneath his eyes. The subtle strain in his breathing. Damian would lose his mind if he saw him like this. That thought almost amused me. Almost.
Then Richard spoke again.
“If you’re trying to intimidate me,” he said quietly, “you’re too late.”
I kept my expression unreadable.
“I’m not here to intimidate you.”
“No?”
“No.”
I paused briefly.
“I’m here because I wanted to see whether the great Richard McKay still understood consequences.”
His eyes narrowed slightly.
“And?”
My lips curved slowly.
“I haven’t decided yet.”

Before he could respond, my phone vibrated once against the table. A message. I glanced down. An update from my men. Bella and Portia had reached the hotel. Documents in hand.
Additional note:
McKay security detail confirmed.
I smiled faintly. Of course Damian had acted quickly. Always adapting. Always responding. Richard noticed the expression.
“What now?” he asked carefully.
I slipped the phone face down onto the table again.
“Your son is becoming increasingly difficult,” I admitted.

Richard’s gaze sharpened with unmistakable pride.
“Good.”
That—
That earned the first genuine laugh from me all evening. Soft. Brief. Dangerous.
“Yes,” I said quietly. “Very good.”
The sound of approaching footsteps got my attention, but they didn't alarm me. I was expecting them. I was expecting him. And by the look of pride on Richard McKay's face. He was expecting them as well.
"Felicia," Damian's low baritone vibrated across the room.
I tilted my head, ever so slightly, the corners of my mouth lifting.
"Damian, dear. So nice of you to join us."