Page 87 of Filthy Rich Daddies

She arches a brow. “So therewasa way?”

Damn it.

I run a hand down my face. “I might have…visited some scientists in Puerto Rico.”

Dean straightens. Colin’s eyebrows shoot up.

Thalassa just blinks. “What?”

I hold up both hands. “I didn’t interfere. I was curious about the research. About your parents’ work. I spoke to them. As a donor.”

“Oh my god.”

“I didn’t use your name. I didn’t bring up the pregnancy. They don’t know who we are to each other. I just…wanted to understand.”

She’s quiet for a moment. Then, slowly, she exhales. “That’s weird, Tic.”

“Agreed.”

“But,” she continues, “all the other times you guys have stalked me, it’s worked out, and I’m too tired not to be practical these days.”

Colin cackles. Dean chuckles. I sigh and press a hand to my temple.

She grins at me. “I’m saying yes. I’ll move in.”

I look at her, really look at her—tired but radiant, aching but unbroken. I nod. “Then I’ll tell you everything. One day.”

She leans her head on my shoulder. “You’d better.”

And for the first time since Serena died, I let myself believe this might not end in grief.

It begins with love.

31

DEAN

I sitat the head of the conference table in the south wing boardroom, the one with the lower ceilings and frosted glass windows, deliberately chosen for how unthreatening it looks.

The new financial team files in exactly one minute early. Good sign.

All five of them are impeccably dressed, visibly nervous, and trying very hard to seem competent without seeming like they want Marcus’s job too badly. I can smell the calculation in the air—cautious ambition with a hint of caffeine-sweat. That’s fine. I’d be nervous too.

No one wants to be the next Marcus. Especially after watching the last one get escorted out in cuffs.

I don’t speak right away. I let them settle, open their laptops, murmur their greetings. Only after they’ve had fifteen full seconds to feel the silence do I begin. “Thank you all for coming.”

Murmurs of “of course,” “thank you,” “Mr. Copeland.”

I nod once. “We’re not here to rehash what happened. We’re here to correct course. And I want to be clear—this department doesn’t get a second black mark. You will operate above board, with full transparency, or you will be replaced. Am I understood?”

Everyone nods. Good.

I press a finger to the touchpad and bring up the first slide. “There are three things I want to implement immediately. None of them are up for debate.”

No one blinks. That’s wise.

“First, executive compensation freezes—for all C-suite bonuses—until profitability has stabilized.”