Page 161 of My Big, Fat, Hot Billionaire Enemy

And the recording… undeniable proof of Morgan’s betrayal, his illegal actions.

Relief, potent and dizzying, washes through me. We’re not out of the woods. The SPEs still need meticulous cleanup. But the primary external threat, the one who knew our biggest secret and intended to use it?

Gone. Defanged.

Thanks to Christopher.

Morgan Weiss is next. That recording isn’t just leverage against Mark’s bid; it’s the ammunition I need to finally excise him from Hammond & Co.

That will be my next official act as CEO.

Justice and accountability neverfelt so good.

I look up at Christopher. And I mean,reallylook at him.

His face is a map of wars I never knew he waged for me. I trace the trenches with my gaze... the faint creases fanning from eyes that hold the unwavering resolve of ten men. His jawline, sharp enough to cut glass. His nose, exquisitely carved, giving a hawk a run for the money.

I reach up, thumb grazing his jaw. His breath hitches, not from pain, but the weight of what we don’t say.

You burned your legacy.

To keep me clean.

I press my forehead to his chest, listening for the heartbeat of the man who rewrote every rule for me, and found, in the wreckage, something fiercer than blood.

For me.

The man who respected my boundaries even when it hurt him.

I realize again that I love him.Reallylove him.

A fact that I had somehow forgotten when my father was hospitalized twice, and when the business seemed to be burning around me.

But he was always there for me, supporting me. Offering guidance, even when I didn’t know it.

It’s funny how we think love is just… the big stuff. The grand gestures, the public declarations, the earth-shattering sex (okay, especially the earth-shattering sex).

But maybe the real work happens quietly, underneath everything else, almost invisible. Like love is some kind of secret architect, redesigning the blueprints of your own mind when you’re not even looking, subtly changing the questions you ask yourself.

How many times this past little while, even when I was pushing him away, convinced I had to stand alone, did I find myself framing a problem through his eyes?

Wondering, even subconsciously, howhewould dissect the risk, what hidden angle he’d anticipate?

Pieces of him, his perspective, his relentless logic mixed with that surprising core of… whatever protective instinct drives him… they somehow got lodged in my thoughts.

A quiet counter to my own anxieties, a silent question secretly shaping the answers I found myself reaching for, guiding my own inner compass without me realizing he’d become the new true north.

Yes. Maybe that’s truly what love is. When someone else takes up permanent residence in your mind, and you let their light, even unconsciously, guide you down paths you never thought you were seeking, long before you even realize you’ve changed course

“So,” I say softly, stepping back to look up into his eyes once more. “About those new communication protocols you proposed…”

A slow smile, the real kind, reaches his eyes. “I believe they’re still open for discussion, Ms. CEO.”

“Good,” I murmur, reaching up to trace the line of his jaw again. “Because I think… I think I’m ready to talk aboutusnow. More than ready.”

He leans down, his forehead resting against mine.

“Took you long enough, Hammond,” he whispers, before his lips find mine.