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"I know what it is." The words came out flat, devoid of the professional confidence that usually characterized my speech. In the background, I could hear the familiar sounds of our office—keyboards clicking, phones ringing, the ordinary machinery of legal commerce about to destroy something extraordinary.
A pause. "Do you? Because I'm looking at the company profile right now, and the board decided to accelerate the acquisition —"
"Fuck." The profanity escaped before I could stop it, a rare crack in my linguistic armor.
"Well, that answers that. Edward, this is—"
"Complicated. Yes, I'm aware." I pinched the bridge of my nose, feeling the beginning of a headache that had nothing to do with caffeine withdrawal. "How long have you known?"
"Since the last night. I've been trying to come up with a solution." James's voice softened with something that might have been sympathy. "Malcolm's pushing hard for immediate closure. There's something else, Edward. Your Mother's been in contact with Malcolm. Apparently, she's one of the board members of the buyer and she’s rather invested in the timeline of this particular acquisition. By Friday, if possible."
Friday. Three days. I thought of Lili in the library, moonlight in her hair, speaking about her Mother's sacrifices and her fear of forgetting where she came from.
In three days, her dreams would be reduced to liquidation figures and redundancy packages.
"I have to go," I said.
"Edward—"
I ended the call and stared at the documents with something approaching despair. My coffee cup slipped from nerveless fingers, the porcelain shattering against the hardwood floor with a sound that seemed to echo my disintegrating composure. Ethiopia's finest blend spread across European oak—an apt metaphor for what this acquisition would do to every carefully maintained boundary in my life.
Fifteen years of legal practice, countless successful acquisitions, and I'd never once questioned the human cost of my work.
People were assets to be managed, companies were puzzles to be solved.
Clean. Efficient. Emotionally sterile.
But Lili had changed that.
Lili, with her infectious enthusiasm for helping people grow gardens they could afford, her genuine care for every caller who sought her advice.
Lili, who made me remember what it felt like to want something beyond the next victory, the next deal, the next step up the ladder I'd been climbing without questioning where it led.
The sound of my penthouse door opening interrupted my spiral into unwelcome self-reflection. I looked up to see Daphne entering without announcing herself—a privilege I allowed no one else, but then Daphne had always operated by her own rules.
"Good morning, brother dearest." She moved with her characteristic grace, but something was off. Her smile seemed forced, and she kept glancing at her phone.
There was a nervous energy about her, a barely contained excitement that seemed at odds with the early hour. "I hope you don't mind the early visit, but I wanted to discuss last night."
"There's nothing to discuss." I closed the acquisition folder with deliberate calm, but not before I saw her eyes flick toward it with curiosity. "Last night was a lapse in judgment. Nothing more."
"A lapse in judgment?" Daphne raised an eyebrow, settling into the chair across from my desk with the familiarity of someone who'd done so a thousand times before. As if on cue, her phone chimed. She startled slightly, her hand flying to the device before she caught herself. "Sorry, it's just... work." She cleared her throat, attempting to regain her composure. "Edward, the entire library practically vibrated with tension when I walked in. You looked like you were about to—"
"I looked like I was having a private conversation with a guest in our home." My voice carried the warning tone that usually made subordinates back down. Daphne merely rolled her eyes, though her fingers twitched toward her phone again.
"Oh, please. You've never looked at anyone the way you were looking at Lili." Her phone chimed again, and she quickly glanced at it, her entire expression softening in a way I'd never seen before. Her fingers flew across the screen, typing whatappeared to be a lengthy response, a small smile playing at the corners of her mouth. When she looked up and caught me watching, she flushed scarlet. "Which brings me to why I'm here."
I waited, saying nothing, adjusting my cufflinks in the methodical way that helped me maintain control. In negotiations, silence was often more powerful than words.
"I'm worried about you," she continued, but her tone lacked conviction. Her phone buzzed in her hands, and this time she couldn't hide her eagerness as she read the message. "And about Lili. This thing between you two—it's complicated, isn't it?"
"Define 'thing.'" I reached for my coffee again, only to remember I'd shattered the cup. The sight of the puddle spreading across my usually immaculate floor seemed to underscore the chaos invading my carefully ordered life.
The headache building behind my eyes intensified.
"You know exactly what I mean. The looks, the tension, the way you both go silent whenever I enter a room." She smiled, but her eyes didn’t.
Another chime from her phone, and she actually giggled—a sound I'd never heard from my typically composed sister. "I just want to make sure you're both being... careful."