Page 39 of Falling for Mr. Ruthless (The Rules We Break #1)

My jaw tightens. The one tell I've never managed to eliminate completely. "Chanel can make her own choices. But she deserves to make them with all the information. With the full truth of who I am. Who I've always been."

Tyson's phone buzzes. He checks it, expression shifting subtly.

"Collins has something," he says, standing. "I'll bring him up."

I nod once, watching him leave. When the door closes, I allow myself one moment of absolute stillness. One breath where I let myself feel the weight of what I'm setting in motion. The consequences that will follow.

Not regret. Not hesitation. Just acknowledgment.

This is who I've always been beneath the careful facade of control. The man willing to burn down the world if it threatens what matters to him. The man my father raised me to be—for better or worse.

The man Chanel married, whether she fully understood it or not.

Collins enters without knocking, Tyson behind him. He carries a tablet, already unlocked to what he wants to show me.

"We found the breach," Collins says without preamble. "And it's worse than we thought."

He hands me the tablet. I scan the information, each detail slotting into place with mechanical precision.

"She accessed our secure servers directly," I say, not looking up from the screen. "Not just email. Not just Chanel's credentials."

"Yes, sir. She has full administrative access. Has had it for months."

I set the tablet down carefully—so carefully—though something inside me wants to hurl it through the window. "How?"

Collins shifts his weight, uncomfortable with the answer he has to give. "She's using your credentials, sir. Your private access codes."

The words land like body blows. Not because they're surprising, but because they confirm what I've known and denied. What I've suspected but refused to face.

"When?" My voice could cut glass.

"First access point was February 12th." Collins doesn't flinch from my tone. Knows better. "The day after your last meeting with her."

Four months ago. A business dinner I thought was closure. A final conversation to ensure we understood each other. To make sure the past remained buried.

I'd been played. Again.

"And you're certain it's her?" Tyson asks, giving me space to process.

Collins nods. "The access points trace back to her private network. She wasn't even trying to hide it. Just counting on us not looking."

I absorb this, the implications unfolding with cold clarity. She wanted me to know. Wanted me to discover this breach. Wanted me to understand how completely she'd infiltrated what I thought secure.

"She's been planning this for months," I say, voice distant to my own ears. "Gathering ammunition. Waiting for the perfect moment."

"The White Glove Pivot," Tyson fills in. "And Chanel's involvement."

"Yes." I look up at them both. "She wasn't just after me. She was after the most damaging target. The one that would hurt the most."

The realization settles like ice in my veins. All this time, I thought I was protecting Chanel by keeping her at arm's length. By maintaining professional distance despite our history. By being careful about how and when we reconnected.

But my caution was exactly what made her vulnerable. My attempt at protection became the vector of attack.

"What do you want us to do?" Collins asks, his tone making it clear he'll execute whatever I decide without question.

I stand, decision crystallizing into diamond-hard certainty.

"Lock down everything. Change all access protocols. Implement the nuclear option."

Collins blinks, the only sign of surprise he allows himself. "Sir, the nuclear option would take our entire system offline for at least twelve hours. Global operations would?—"

"I don't care." My voice cuts through his objection like a blade. "Twelve hours of darkness is better than months of infiltration. Do it."

He nods once, already reaching for his phone to initiate the process.

"And Megan?" Tyson asks quietly.

"We stick to the plan." I move to the window again, watching the city fully awake now.

Millions of people moving through their lives, unaware of the currents shifting beneath the surface.

The power being deployed above them. "But we accelerate the timeline.

I want the first domino to fall by close of business today. "

"The Whitman Group."

"Yes. Call Harrington directly. Tell him I need twenty minutes of his time. In person."

Tyson makes a note but doesn't move to leave. "And the other matter we discussed? The evidence that doesn't exist yet?"

I turn to face him, letting him see the decision in my eyes. The line I'm crossing deliberately, with full awareness of what it means. What it costs. "Make it exist."

He holds my gaze for a long moment, then nods once. A soldier accepting orders he might question but will execute without hesitation.

When they've both left, I return to my desk. To the work of dismantling a woman who thought she could take what's mine. Who thought her threats and manipulations would force me to surrender again.

Four years ago, I gave up everything to protect Chanel from Megan's poison. I walked away from my marriage, my family, my chance at happiness because I thought sacrifice was the answer. Because I believed I could love her best by leaving her.

I was wrong.

You don't protect what matters by walking away from it. You protect it by eliminating what threatens it. By becoming the thing darkness fears.

My phone vibrates on the desk. Chanel : We need to talk. Not about last night. About the audit. I found something.

I stare at the message, reading between lines so sparse they're practically telegraphic. Professional language. Distance established. Boundaries redrawn after what happened between us.

I should respect that. Should give her the space she's asking for. Should respond with equal professionalism.

I don't.

I'll come to you. Your office or mine?

Three dots appear. Disappear. Reappear. Digital evidence of hesitation.

Neither. The Met. Egyptian wing. Noon.

Public. Neutral. Safe.

I type a single word. Done.

Then I set the phone down and return to the architecture of Megan's destruction—the calculated dismantling of the woman who thought she could take Chanel from me twice.

I've spent four years pretending to be a better man. Wearing the mask of restraint and control. Telling myself it was for Chanel's sake. That she deserved someone who could rise above the darkness coded into his DNA.

But that was the real lie. The real betrayal.

Chanel didn't marry a man who was better than his nature. She married a man who would do anything to protect what mattered. A man willing to cross lines others wouldn't approach.

She married me. The real me.

And if that's not the man she wants anymore? If the truth of who I am repulses her?

Then at least this time, the choice will be hers. Made with clear eyes and full information.

This time, I bring my full self to the table. The darkness and the light. The violence and the tenderness. The man who would burn down the world to keep her safe, and the man who memorizes the exact cadence of her breathing when she sleeps.

This time, I don't hide who I am to be worthy of her love. I become worthy by being real.

My phone buzzes with a text from Collins: Nuclear option initiated. Systems going dark in five minutes.

I send a quick acknowledgment, then move to the window one last time. In moments, Novare Global Strategies will go silent across the world. Offices from London to Singapore will lose connection. Operations will freeze. Millions in transactions suspended.

All to protect what matters most.

I watch the city below, the ant-like figures moving through morning routines. None aware of the power wielded seventy stories above them. The decisions being made that will reshape lives. End careers. Destroy what took years to build.

This is who I am. This is what I do.

And for the first time in four years, I'm not apologizing for it.

Not even to myself.