The detention center smelled like bleach and regret.
I hadn’t been back since the day of my father’s arraignment.
The first time, I’d been numb.
Today, I was strategic.
A guard led me down the narrow hallway, fluorescent lights buzzing overhead. Every step echoed too loudly against concrete floors.
“Five minutes,” he muttered.
“I’ll only need four.”
He didn’t smile.
The door opened.
My father sat at the metal table, shoulders slightly stooped, suit replaced by a standard-issue jumpsuit that looked wrong on him. Smaller. Diminished.
But his eyes—
Still sharp.
Still calculating.
“You shouldn’t be here,” he said immediately.
“Hello to you too.”
The guard shut the door behind me.
We were alone.
“You exposed Caldwell,” he said, watching me closely.
News traveled fast.
“Yes.”
A faint smile touched his lips.
“Good.”
That surprised me.
“I thought you’d disapprove,” I said coolly.
“I disapprove of stupidity,” he replied. “That wasn’t stupidity.”
I took the seat across from him.
“They’re escalating.”
His expression sharpened.
“How?”
I slid the photograph across the table.
His own face stared back at him.
Timestamped.
Monitored.
For a fraction of a second, something flickered in his eyes.
Fear.
Then it was gone.
“You’re being threatened because of me,” he said quietly.
“I’m being threatened because I’m effective.”
“You always were.”
The compliment felt hollow.
“I need you to cooperate,” I said.
“With what?”
“With the investigation into Caldwell’s offshore accounts.”
His jaw hardened.
“You want me to testify.”
“Yes.”
“You think aligning with the government will protect me?”
“I think aligning with me will.”
Silence.
“You still don’t understand,” he said slowly. “This world doesn’t reward morality. It rewards leverage.”
“I know.”
“Then why are you asking me to hand mine over?”
“Because your leverage is temporary,” I replied. “And theirs is escalating.”
His eyes narrowed.
“You think Caldwell will touch me?”
“I think he’ll use you.”
My father leaned back slightly.
“Let him try.”
“You don’t get to be reckless,” I snapped.
The words slipped out sharper than intended.
He studied me carefully.
“You’ve changed,” he said.
“I’ve adapted.”
“And Mercer?” he asked pointedly. “Is he influencing this adaptation?”
“This isn’t about Liam.”
“It’s always about power.”
“No,” I said firmly. “This is about survival.”
A pause.
“You’re scared,” he observed.
I met his gaze evenly.
“Yes.”
The admission hung between us.
“And that terrifies you more than the threats,” he added.
I didn’t answer.
Because he was right.
Fear wasn’t foreign.
But acknowledging it—
That was new.
“They sent someone to watch my apartment,” I said quietly. “They threw a brick through my window.”
His fingers tightened slightly against the table.
“They’re escalating emotionally,” I continued. “Which means they’re destabilized.”
“And you want to exploit that.”
“Yes.”
He exhaled slowly.
“You sound like me.”
“I learned from you.”
For a moment, something almost like regret flickered across his face.
“Testifying won’t absolve me,” he said.
“I’m not asking for absolution.”
“Then what?”
“I’m asking for alignment.”
His eyes sharpened.
“With Mercer.”
“With me.”
Silence stretched long and heavy.
“You think you can control this?” he asked softly.
“No,” I said. “But I can influence it.”
He leaned forward slightly.
“If I testify, I lose what little leverage I have left.”
“If you don’t,” I replied, “you become the easiest target.”
He studied me like he used to when I was a child asking for something impossible.
“You’re asking me to trust you,” he said.
“Yes.”
He gave a humorless smile.
“That’s ironic.”
“It is.”
Another long pause.
“You love him,” he said suddenly.
The shift caught me off guard.
“This isn’t about that.”
“It is,” he insisted. “You wouldn’t be this invested otherwise.”
I hesitated.
Because love was messy.
And inconvenient.
“And if I do?” I asked quietly.
He held my gaze.
“Then understand this,” he said. “Men like Caldwell and Mercer don’t love gently. They love strategically.”
My pulse tightened.
“You don’t know him.”
“I know his type.”
“And what type is that?”
“Ruthless.”
The word lingered.
“He is ruthless,” I admitted.
“And you think that won’t turn on you?”
“I think,” I said carefully, “that I’m ruthless too.”
Something like approval flashed across his face.
“Then you might survive.”
The guard knocked on the door.
Time was up.
“Will you do it?” I asked.
My father held my gaze for a long moment.
“Yes.”
The word settled heavily.
“But not for Mercer,” he added. “For you.”
I stood slowly.
“Good.”
As I turned to leave, he spoke again.
“If he ever makes you collateral,” he said quietly, “you burn him down.”
I didn’t respond.
But the words followed me out.
When I stepped outside, the afternoon air felt colder.
Liam stood near his car, hands in his coat pockets, posture deceptively relaxed.
He looked up as soon as he saw me.
“Well?” he asked.
“He agreed.”
Something in his shoulders eased.
“For you?” he asked.
“Yes.”
He nodded once.
“Good.”
We stood there for a moment, tension unspoken.
“What did he say about me?” Liam asked finally.
I arched a brow.
“You’re fishing.”
“I’m assessing.”
“He called you ruthless.”
A faint smile.
“He’s not wrong.”
“And warned me that men like you don’t love gently.”
The smile faded.
“And what did you say?”
“That I don’t love gently either.”
Silence.
Charged.