87

The dawn light seeped in through the Coleman-Hartmann conference room's window glass from floor to ceiling and gave the crisply set table its gentle golden illumination. Liana was waiting, teal shirt impeccable, clicking the marble tiles of the hallway floor. She was determined on the agenda today: nailing statements to refute Malachi Voss's suit for embezzlement on her family and herself. A whole tablet packed with talking points ready, ready to present her stance in the face of the confrontation ahead at standing position, if only across a room.

She stopped outside the inner boardroom door—only to stop in shock at what was beyond the frosted glass. Alexander Cole leaned against the walnut credenza, speaking softly to Geraldine "Gerry" Maynard, an impenetrable board member whose loyalty was rumored to be to Voss. Auburn-colored hair was swept back into a perfect chignon; Gerry's charcoal pin-striped suit exuded power. Alex's casual stance was too intimate. Their heads leaned forward over one another as they talked in low voices—and as Liana watched, she saw Alex's hand glide across Gerry's forearm in a gesture of reassurance.

A cold knot formed in Liana's stomach. She slapped her hand on the glass, her heart racing. They were conspiring. Her tentative connection to Alex had been a sham. Fury bulged in her throat like poison.

Without hesitating, Liana stormed into the room. The door swung wide, startling Alex and Gerry. Alex straightened, shock flashing in his grey eyes. Gerry’s polite smile flickered uncertainly.

“Alex,” Liana said, voice sharp enough to crack crystal, “care to explain why you’re cozying up with Gerry Maynard first thing this morning?”

Gerry’s lips tightened. “Ms. Coleman, this is my office—”

“My office,” Liana cut in, voice rising. “This is my family’s emergency meeting, and you’re meeting with Voss’s ally on the side?”

Alex’s jaw clenched. “Liana, wait—”

Liana whirled on him, blazing with anger. "You said you were committed to our cause. You said we were in this together. And now I find that you're plotting behind my back with the very people who are trying to kill us." Her voice trembled, her eyes blinded by tears. "Hypocrite, congratulations, Alex."

Gerry stepped back, clearing her throat. "Ms. Coleman, maybe you're not understanding—

Liana shook her head, every nerve on edge with betrayal. "Oh, I see perfectly." She held the tablet against her chest. "Don't even attempt to defend yourself. I see where your loyalties are." She walked out of the room, the door shutting behind her with a click, like a sentence.

Alex reached for the doorknob. "Liana, please—"

His words were swallowed by the silent suite. He looked at the closed door, chest rising and falling with regret and confusion.

Liana bolted down the hallway, heels echoing off the shiny floor. Her tablet ripped from her hand and hit the wall; she didn't even slow to recover it. Her eyes stung with tears of fury, not sadness, and she brushed them back with the back of her hand. She sprinted into the morning brightness, wincing at its peaceful innocence.

Across the way, Leo's towered: a shining spire of glass and steel, surmounted by the Coleman-Hartmann crest. Liana's breath caught in her memory as she thought back to Martin Sloan's threat of a forthcoming strike. Perhaps this was his doing. Perhaps Alex had tipped their enemy. The idea seared like acid.

She shoved off her heels and ran the last block, racing heart. She stopped at the corner, turning it—her anger frozen by a sight that left her breathless.

The front door of the flagship office had been defaced overnight. The sleek stone face was marred by black spray-painted words:

"VOSS WINS – YOUR EMPIRE FALLS"

Splashes of paint melted into eerie rivulets. An arrow directed toward glass doors, which bore the identical emblem painted crimson: two cursive C's transformed into a mocking smile.

Security guards huddled on the sidewalk, eyes searching for horror and outrage. They kept back a clutch of observers, muttering into phones and brandishing cameras. Liana's breath caught as she emerged, her earlier betrayal of Alex superseded by a more agonizing wound—this was home, her family's legacy, desecrated.

Leo leaned against the graffiti-plastered building, shoulders braced against the unwanted artwork. His sharp-pressed jacket was unfastened; his tie was loosened, top button open. He turned at the sound of Liana's footsteps and caught her gaze. His expression was serious, eyes darkened with sorrow and rage.

"Dad," Liana whispered, voice snagging like dry leaves.

Leo's eyes softened for a moment. He opened his arms wide, and she sprang into them. He pulled her closer than he had in years—her childhood security, his silent apology for all the times he hadn't been able to protect her.

They stayed hugged as a cold blast of wind came down the road. Liana hid her face in Leo's chest, inhaling the cedarwood and determination smell that surrounded her.

A second later, Leo stepped back and regarded his daughter. "I'm sorry you had to see this," he said softly. "They've escalated to actual threats."

Liana's fists clenched at his lapels. "They're insane," she snarled. "They'll do anything."

Leo nodded. "Yes," he admitted. "But this.this makes it different. They don't just want to ruin our finances--they want us terrorized."

They shared a heartbreak glance—daughter and father bound together by the knife-edge brutality of their enemy. Liana's anger at Alex paled: her anger with Alex was eclipsed by the war that had been fought against her family. She struggled to her feet, grabbing her tablet from the road where she had fallen. The glass face was broken but still functioning.

"I have to call Mom," she said. "And Alex."

Leo's face puckered. "Alex? Still trust him?"

Liana hesitated, thinking fast. One minute ago, she had turned on Alex with the full force of her temper. But facing her father now, she realized she could use all the help she could get—even a man who'd just hurt her. "I don't know," she whispered. "But I need to know."

Leo put a hand on her shoulder. "Take care," he cautioned. "He may be playing at his own level.".

Liana nodded. She refocused her gaze on the graffitied building, determination burning in her chest. "We strike back," she said. "Together."

In the office, Ruth paced the empty reception area, her heels striking a staccato beat of tension. Security had just phoned in the graffiti; she dug into her purse and produced her phone, calling Leo's extension. The phone rang, then clicked as he picked up.

"Ruth," he said gently, voice tight.

She inhaled. “They’ve hit the flagship office,” she said. “Graffiti, threats…It’s open warfare.”

“I know,” Leo replied. He lowered his voice. “Liana’s here. She’s shaken, but she’s okay.”

Ruth’s shoulders sagged. “Thank God. I—I’m on my way.”

She hung up and switched the call to Martin Sloan. "Get investigators to the scene," she instructed him as she headed towards the parking garage. "Press team on damage control. And check to see if any of the security cameras recorded the perpetrators.".

Her heart thudded with a mix of maternal fear and executive determination. Someone had attacked her family's heart—now she would see their enemy struck back, with all the tools at her disposal.

Outdoors, Liana and Leo watched while forensic officers took photographs of the vandalism. The senior officer offered Leo a file of early photographs: up-close shots of spray patterns, paint residue, even a boot mark on the marble front door step.

Liana read the photos, lips cold. "They left a calling card," she told him, her thumb hovering over a photo of the red C's. "They want us to know who did it."

Leo folded the folder, face serious. "They do." He regarded his daughter. "Go home, Liana. Rest."

She shook her head. "No. I want to help.".

He hesitated, then nodded. “Then stay close.” He offered her his arm. “We’ll face them together.”

Liana slipped her hand into his. As they walked toward the corporate gates—past the disapproving stares of pedestrians and the scrawl of black threat—she felt a fierce clarity. Their enemy was ruthless. Trust was a luxury she could no longer afford—yet she would not abandon the fledgling alliance that might yet save her family.

She raised her chin to the autumn wind. "We will prepare our counterattack tomorrow," she said.

Leo's eyes softened with pride. "Good." He pushed a strand of hair back from her face—a flash of Alex's gentler touch. "We will show them what resilience is."

Liana gazed at her father, sorrow and determination tangled together. They stepped into the approaching storm across the threshold of the flagship office.