Chapter 60 Bad news
Timothy
Dropping Hannah off at the shelter should not have put me in this good a mood.
And yet, as the car pulled away and the driver merged into traffic, I found myself leaning back against the seat, lips curved in a faint, traitorous smile.
Dinner. Tonight.
She had promised. Pinky promised, even like that ridiculous little gesture meant more than signed contracts and boardroom assurances. I didn’t miss the way she’d smiled when she said it either. Soft. Unguarded. Real.
I scrubbed a hand over my face and exhaled slowly.
Get a grip.
By the time we arrived at the office, the building was already humming with activity. Phones ringing, heels clicking, the low murmur of power and pressure that never really slept. I stepped out of the car and straightened my jacket automatically, the familiar weight of responsibility settling onto my shoulders.
The elevator doors hadn’t even closed before my secretary, Miriam, was already speaking.
“Good morning, sir. Your nine a.m. has been moved up to eight forty-five. The regulatory committee confirmed their visit this afternoon, and the Northern Ports inspection report came in earlier than expected.”
“Mm,” I murmured. “Anything else?”
She hesitated.
That was never a good sign.
“Yes,” she said carefully. “There’s… news.”
I turned to look at her fully now. “What kind of news?”
“The Kestrel acquisition,” she said. “They pulled out.”
I stopped walking.
“What?”
Miriam swallowed. “They finalized with Blackridge this morning. Signed and sealed.”
For a moment, the world narrowed to a sharp, focused point behind my eyes.
Blackridge.
I let out a short, humorless laugh. “You’re telling me they walked away from a fifteen percent premium to sell to our biggest rival.”
“Yes, sir.”
“After six months of negotiations.”
“Yes.”
“After assurances from their board.”
She nodded again, expression apologetic. “I’m afraid so.”
I turned away before my temper showed. “Clear my next ten minutes.”
“Sir…”
“And cancel anything that can be canceled.”
She tapped rapidly on her tablet. “Yes, sir.”
I was already dialing.
Rowan picked up on the second ring.
“You heard?” I asked without preamble.
“Yes,” he replied, voice grim. “Just got confirmation.”
“Blackridge,” I spat.
“Blackridge,” he echoed. “They must have sweetened the deal last minute.”
“Or offered something under the table.”
“Either way, this is a considerable loss.”
I closed my eyes briefly, jaw tight. “We don’t let this stand.”
“No,” Rowan agreed. “We can’t.”
“I want counterpressure,” I said. “Strategic. Quiet. Find their weak point and lean into it.”
“Already working on it.”
“Good. And Rowan?”
“Yes?”
“We one-up them. Publicly.”
There was a pause. Then, a low chuckle. “I was hoping you’d say that.”
I ended the call and exhaled sharply.
So much for my good mood.
The rest of the day dissolved into a relentless blur.
Meetings stacked on meetings. Site inspections. Legal consultations. Crisis management calls layered with polite smiles and carefully masked aggression. I moved through it all on muscle memory and sheer will, but the loss gnawed at me constantly, like a dull ache that refused to fade.
By the time the last meeting wrapped up, the sky outside had already darkened.
“Sir,” Miriam said gently as I passed her desk, “your driver is waiting.”
“Thank you.”
The ride home was silent. Exhaustion settled deep into my bones, the kind that no amount of sleep ever really fixed.
When I arrived, I barely registered the front doors opening before Hannah was there.
Her face was already set in a scowl. “You’re late.”
I opened my mouth to respond and watched the scowl falter.
Her eyes softened. Concern replaced irritation almost instantly.
“…Are you okay?” she asked.
I stepped inside, shrugging out of my jacket. “Long day.”
She studied me for a moment, then reached out, fingers brushing my sleeve. “What happened?”
I hesitated. Then sighed. “We lost a major acquisition.”
Her brows knit together. “That bad?”
“Yes.”
She didn’t press for details. Didn’t ask names or numbers. Just nodded slowly. “I’m sorry.”
“I’ll handle it,” I said. “But today was… a lot. And there’s more to be done.”
She pouted slightly. “I thought you stood me up.”
I huffed a tired laugh. “No. I wouldn’t do that.”
That seemed to ease something in her. She slipped her hand through my arm and turned toward the hallway.
“Lisa,” she called. “Could you bring dinner to the lounge room, please?”
“Of course, Mrs. Blackwood.”
Hannah glanced up at me. “Go dress down. Meet me there.”
The simple domesticity of the instruction caught me off guard.
“Alright,” I said, smiling despite myself.
I took the stairs two at a time.
In my room, I loosened my tie, shed my suit, and changed into comfortable house clothes. I washed my face and hands, letting the cool water ground me.
When I looked up, my reflection stared back, tired eyes, faint lines etched deeper than they had any right to be.
Why am I jittery?
The thought came unbidden, unwelcome.
Why does the idea of spending time alone with her feel like this?
I didn’t have an answer.
I shook my head, dismissing it as fatigue, and headed downstairs.
Whatever this was, whatever it meant, I wasn’t ready to name it yet.