Chapter 12: The Threat
Callum
I make it to her building in fourteen minutes.
She's standing by the window when I walk in, arms crossed, jaw set. Not scared. But alert. Like a woman who's been hunted before and remembers the sound of footsteps.
"Show me," I say.
She slides the photo across the desk.
I look at it for three seconds before my vision goes dark around the edges.
Us. Last night. Close enough to kiss. Taken from across the street. Long lens. Someone patient.
I flip it over.
*You're not the only one playing this game.*
"Who sent this?" I ask.
"I don't know."
"Hand-delivered?"
"To my office," she confirms. "No trace."
I set the photo down and pace. Think.
"This is someone inside," I say. "Someone who knew where we'd be."
"Or someone following you," she counters.
"No one follows me."
"Maybe not before," she says. "But things changed. You lost people. Your restructuring made enemies."
She's right.
I stopped to think about this as a move against her.
But it might be a move against both of us.
"If this gets out," I say carefully, "it doesn't just hurt you."
"I know," she replies. "It puts Lily on a map."
That name again.
Every time she says it, I feel something crack open in my chest.
"I'm increasing your security," I say.
"No."
"Vivienne—"
"You don't get to decide that," she snaps.
"This isn't about control," I say. "This is about safety."
"It's always about control with you."
I stop pacing and face her.
"Someone is threatening the mother of my child," I say slowly. "I'm responding."
She flinches. Just barely.
"You haven't confirmed—"
"I don't need confirmation," I cut in. "I saw her face. I know."
The silence between us is unbearable.
"If you want to protect her," Vivienne says carefully, "then don't fight me on the disclosure. Don't force it into public record."
"Why?"
"Because if someone is watching us, they'll be watching the courts too."
I hadn't thought of that.
She had.
"Drop the petition," she says. "Quietly."
"And then what?"
She looks at me. Really looks.
"Then we figure out who's hunting us," she says. "Together."
That word—together—shouldn't hit as hard as it does.
"I'll pull it," I say.
She exhales. Just slightly.
"Thank you," she says.
I nod. "But I'm putting a team on your building."
She doesn't fight me this time.
"Fine."
I move toward the door. Stop. Turn back.
"She likes pasta," I say. Not a question. Something I overheard once, somehow. Something that stuck.
Vivienne looks startled.
"How do you know that?"
I don't answer. I just hold her gaze for a second longer than necessary.
"Protect her," I say.
"I always have," she replies.
I leave knowing something fundamental has shifted between us. Not back to what it was. Forward. Into something neither of us planned.
And somewhere out there, someone is watching.
Waiting.
I make it to her building in fourteen minutes.
She's standing by the window when I walk in, arms crossed, jaw set. Not scared. But alert. Like a woman who's been hunted before and remembers the sound of footsteps.
"Show me," I say.
She slides the photo across the desk.
I look at it for three seconds before my vision goes dark around the edges.
Us. Last night. Close enough to kiss. Taken from across the street. Long lens. Someone patient.
I flip it over.
*You're not the only one playing this game.*
"Who sent this?" I ask.
"I don't know."
"Hand-delivered?"
"To my office," she confirms. "No trace."
I set the photo down and pace. Think.
"This is someone inside," I say. "Someone who knew where we'd be."
"Or someone following you," she counters.
"No one follows me."
"Maybe not before," she says. "But things changed. You lost people. Your restructuring made enemies."
She's right.
I stopped to think about this as a move against her.
But it might be a move against both of us.
"If this gets out," I say carefully, "it doesn't just hurt you."
"I know," she replies. "It puts Lily on a map."
That name again.
Every time she says it, I feel something crack open in my chest.
"I'm increasing your security," I say.
"No."
"Vivienne—"
"You don't get to decide that," she snaps.
"This isn't about control," I say. "This is about safety."
"It's always about control with you."
I stop pacing and face her.
"Someone is threatening the mother of my child," I say slowly. "I'm responding."
She flinches. Just barely.
"You haven't confirmed—"
"I don't need confirmation," I cut in. "I saw her face. I know."
The silence between us is unbearable.
"If you want to protect her," Vivienne says carefully, "then don't fight me on the disclosure. Don't force it into public record."
"Why?"
"Because if someone is watching us, they'll be watching the courts too."
I hadn't thought of that.
She had.
"Drop the petition," she says. "Quietly."
"And then what?"
She looks at me. Really looks.
"Then we figure out who's hunting us," she says. "Together."
That word—together—shouldn't hit as hard as it does.
"I'll pull it," I say.
She exhales. Just slightly.
"Thank you," she says.
I nod. "But I'm putting a team on your building."
She doesn't fight me this time.
"Fine."
I move toward the door. Stop. Turn back.
"She likes pasta," I say. Not a question. Something I overheard once, somehow. Something that stuck.
Vivienne looks startled.
"How do you know that?"
I don't answer. I just hold her gaze for a second longer than necessary.
"Protect her," I say.
"I always have," she replies.
I leave knowing something fundamental has shifted between us. Not back to what it was. Forward. Into something neither of us planned.
And somewhere out there, someone is watching.
Waiting.