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Before I can process her words before I can even think about retreating, the door swings open and Clara appears in the doorway.

“Oh,” she says, red lips curving into a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. She looks exactly like in the magazine photo Rachel just showed me – sleek, polished, expensive – but with an added layer of calculated cruelty the glossy business publication hadn’t captured. “Emma. Perfect timing. I was just telling Lucas how the three of us should have dinner. You know, to discuss the future of our companies.”

Behind her, I catch Lucas’s expression – a mixture of horror and concern that would be comical under different circumstances. His eyes lock onto mine, a silent apology in them. Then determination replaces the horror as he moves to stand beside me.

“Emma was just dropping by to discuss our presentation for the Johnson meeting,” he says smoothly. “Clara was leaving.”

“Was I?” Clara’s perfectly shaped eyebrow arches. “I thought we were just getting to the interesting part. About combining our... assets.”

“I believe Lucas made his position clear,” I find myself saying, my voice steadier than I feel. “Walker Enterprises isn’t for sale. Neither are its people.”

Clara’s eyes narrow almost imperceptibly. “How charmingly loyal. Though I wonder if you’d feel the same way if you knew about Lucas’s role in what happened at Matthews & Sterling. About the information that mysteriously made its way to Clarendon Analytics right before half the sustainability division was laid off.”

“That’s enough, Clara.” Lucas’s voice has gone dangerously quiet.

She shrugs, the movement elegant even in its dismissiveness. “Just making conversation. Well, I won’t keep you from your... provincial innovations. Daddy will be in touch about those patent claims.”

With that, she brushes past me, the scent of expensive perfume lingering in her wake.

Well.

Looks like we’re going to need more than cloud-watching lessons to get through this.

Chapter Thirteen

Lucas

Clara’s heels click down the hallway, leaving Emma standing in my doorway looking like she’d rather face a board audit than this conversation. Her fingers twist the hem of her blazer—a nervous tell I remember from college study sessions when she’d tackle complex problems well into the night.

The silence stretches between us, uncomfortable and heavy. Uncertainty clouds her eyes, and she stands slightly stiff as if bracing for disappointment. It’s a look I promised myself I’d never put on her face again.

“Emma—” I start.

“No.” She steps into my office, closing the door with quiet determination. “I think I deserve some answers. About Clara. About everything you two were just discussing.”

The careful distance in her posture makes my chest tighten. This is Emma—my sister’s best friend who became my closest confidante, who used to sprawl across my family room floor with textbooks and dreams, who saw through every mask I tried to wear. Now she’s putting up walls I haven’t seen since I returned from New York.

“Clara’s father wants to merge our companies,” I say, needing her to understand. “She’s using our brief history in New York to push the idea.”

“History?” Her voice remains carefully neutral, but I notice the slight tightening around her eyes. “She seemed pretty confident about your... strategic partnerships.”

“We dated for a few months while I was at Matthews & Sterling.” I press my knuckles against the desk. “It wasn’t—she liked the idea of me. The successful executive, the perfect society match. When I wouldn’t play along with her father’s corporate games...”

I trail off, remembering the night everything fell apart – the charity gala where Theodore Brighton had announced the “inevitable merger” of our companies like it was already decided. How Clara had smiled knowingly, as if my agreement was a foregone conclusion.

Emma takes a step forward, her analytical mind clearly piecing things together. “And the hostile takeover attempt you mentioned? The one against Walker’s solar division?”

Of course she caught that. Emma never misses the important details, even when they’re buried in corporate doublespeak.

“After I broke things off, Brighton Analytics suddenly had insider information about our sustainable technology patents. Information that only someone with access to my files would have known.” The memory still burns. “I couldn’t prove she was involved, but the timing was suspicious.”

Emma’s expression shifts from skepticism and hurt to something more complex. “So she used your relationship to gather intelligence for her father’s company? And now she’s here talking about reuniting families and combining assets?”

“Classic Clara.” I move around my desk, needing to be closer to Emma, to break through the careful distance she’s maintaining. “She sees relationships as strategic alliances. Business extensions by other means.”

“Unlike someone who spent Saturday teaching me to skip stones again?” The corner of her mouth lifts slightly, the first crack in her composed facade.

“Exactly.” Relief spreads through me like warmth. “Emma, nothing about my relationship with Clara was real. We looked good in business publications and charity events, but there was no substance. No connection.”