Chapter 115

Sunlight squeezed through the gap in the curtains, falling across those seventeen pages. The ink on the paper glowed with a stale, yellowed tinge in the light.

A thirty-year-old debt, finally laid bare on the table.

And Evelyn stood on this side of the table, her palm pressed against the back of the hand of the man who was suffering because of it.

She didn't step back.

Cedric spent three days completing something the entire business world never saw coming.

Parker Group issued an official statement. The wording was brutally short—just two paragraphs. The first acknowledged that Parker Group had participated in the improper acquisition of the White family's assets thirty years ago. The second announced the full return of those assets to the White family's descendants.

The day the statement dropped, Parker Group's stock plummeted eight percent.

Evelyn sat at her desk on the thirty-sixth floor, watching financial news alerts pop up in the bottom corner of her computer screen. Every headline carried words like "plunge," "crisis of trust," "Parker Group cuts off its own arm."

She turned off the notifications.

Luna knocked and entered, a file in hand.

"The Phase Three investors for the North District project just added a condition." Luna set the file on Evelyn's desk, her expression as composed as ever, but with a rare trace of gravity in her eyes. "They're demanding Parker Group provide a 'financial health certification' within forty-eight hours, or they're suspending the contract."

Evelyn opened the file. The investors' wording was polite, but the message was crystal clear—Parker Group just lost four billion today. Can you still stay afloat?

"Who's the investor?"

"Linda."

The investment rep for the Eastside project client. The one who'd been cooperative until now.

Evelyn closed the file. "Forty-eight hours is enough."

"The finance department—"

"I'm not going through finance." Evelyn stood, picking up her phone from the desk. "I'll schedule directly with Linda."

Luna studied her for two seconds, then gave a single nod. "Your call."

Evelyn dialed Linda's number.

The phone rang three times before connecting. Linda's voice was more cautious than the last time they'd spoken. "Ms. Kendall."

"Ms. Tucker, I saw the additional condition for North District Phase Three." Evelyn's voice was as still as a lake, not a single ripple. "I want to ask you a question."

"Go ahead."

"Parker Group's decision today to return the White family assets—do you think that's a point against us, or in our favor?"

Silence on the other end for two seconds.

Evelyn continued: "A company willing to voluntarily open old wounds and bear the cost, versus one that keeps the lid on and pretends the problem doesn't exist—which one would you put your money into?"

Linda's silence stretched longer this time.

"Ms. Kendall, you're the only one who'd dare put it that way." Linda's voice carried something subtle now—not sarcasm, closer to a reluctant respect. "I'm withdrawing the forty-eight-hour condition. But I need an updated profit model from you by next week, showing me exactly how you're going to fill that four-billion-dollar hole."

"You'll have it in your inbox before Wednesday." Evelyn hung up.

Luna was still standing in the doorway. The corner of her mouth moved—so slightly it was almost invisible.

"Evelyn Kendall." Luna used her full name.

"Yes?"

"You're different from when you first arrived three months ago."

Evelyn looked at her.

Luna didn't explain. She turned and walked out, leaving only the sharp click of heels on marble echoing in the hallway.

Evelyn sat in her chair for a while. She lit up her phone screen and glanced at Cedric's message thread.

His last message had been sent at seven this morning.

[Today's going to be busy. I'll pick you up tonight.]

Evelyn hadn't replied. She knew what he was doing today. He was meeting with the Parker family elders, explaining why he was handing over four billion dollars' worth of assets.

Parker Group wasn't a public company where one person could make all the calls. Though Cedric controlled day-to-day operations, asset disposals of this magnitude required family council approval. They held veto power.

He was fighting a battle for her that she couldn't see.

Evelyn set down her phone and opened the profit model document for North District Phase Three.

The cursor blinked three times in the blank space. She started typing.

Her fingers moved quickly across the keyboard—every number, every formula, every assumption like the hard scab forming over the cut in her palm that hadn't fully healed yet. Not pretty, but functional.

By six-forty in the evening, she'd saved the final version of the model and locked her screen.

The office floor was empty. Outside the window, only a strip of dark orange light remained on the horizon, being slowly swallowed by blue-gray dusk.

Her phone lit up.

Cedric: [I'm downstairs.]

Evelyn grabbed her bag and turned off the lights.

When the elevator doors opened on the basement level, that black Rolls-Royce was parked in the nearest spot. The engine was still running, the red glow of the taillights especially stark in the garage's darkness.

Cedric was leaning back in the driver's seat, one hand resting on the steering wheel. The interior light was off—she could only make out his silhouette. His shoulders were tense, spine pressed against the seat back, his entire posture radiating exhaustion, yet still holding himself upright.

Evelyn opened the passenger door and slid in.

Inside, the car carried his scent—cool woody notes mixed with the faintest trace of tobacco. He didn't usually smoke.

"You had the meeting today?" Evelyn asked as she buckled her seatbelt.

"Yeah."

"And?"

Cedric's right hand moved from the steering wheel, reaching over to thread his fingers through hers. Their hands interlocked, palm to palm.

His hand was cooler than usual.

"It passed." His voice was rough, like he'd talked too much today and worn his throat raw. "Five votes in favor, three abstentions, one against."

Evelyn's fingers tightened in the spaces between his.

"Who voted against?"

Cedric didn't answer. He lifted her hand to his lips and pressed an impossibly light kiss to her knuckles.

The touch of his mouth on her skin was dry and warm, like a petal falling onto the back of her hand.

"Doesn't matter," he said.

The car pulled out of the garage and merged into the city's evening rush hour traffic.

Streetlights passed one after another outside the window, casting alternating light and shadow across their joined hands.

Evelyn studied his profile. His jawline was harder than yesterday, a faint trace of dried sweat at his temple. Today must have been brutal.

Her thumb traced a gentle circle against the web of his thumb.

Cedric's gaze shifted from the road ahead, glancing over at her.

In that look, there was no exhaustion. Only a heavy, settling kind of tenderness—like her small gesture had soothed something inside him.

Outside the window, the city's lights began to glow brighter.

And in her palm, that hand—chilled from a full day of battle—was slowly, steadily warming up.