Page 7 of My Big, Fat, Hot Billionaire Enemy

I take it and walk towards the windows, scanning the figures. Definitely worse than I thought. Significantly worse. Richard Hammond hasn’t just been making bad bets: he’s been actively hiding the scale of the disaster. Cooking the books? Creative accounting? Either way it smells like desperation. Which makes his daughter’s bold play even more… interesting.

“She knows,” I murmur mostly to myself.

“Sir?” Tatiana asks, raising a perfectly sculpted eyebrow.

“Lucy Hammond. She approached me at the expo.” I turn from the window. “Made quite the entrance involving malfunctioning tech and property damage.” I don’t elaborate. Tatiana doesn’t need the lurid details. “Proposed a ‘partnership’ instead of a takeover.”

Tatiana’s expression doesn’t flicker but I see the calculation in her eyes. “A stall tactic?”

“Could be.” I tap the tablet. “Dig deeper,Tatiana. I want everything. Personal debts Richard Hammond might have. Any liens not properly reported. Internal board sentiment. Whispers in the hallways. Also, find out everything you can on their board members… names, backgrounds, everything. I want leverage points she hasn’t even considered yet.” This is the game. Information is ammunition. Power isn’t just about having money, it’s about knowing everything the other side doesn’t want you to know. Intimidation isn’t always overt: sometimes it’s the quiet confidence that you hold all the cards.

“Already compiling, Mr Blackwell. I have analysts reviewing creditor reports and background checks running on key board personnel. Initial findings suggest a certain board member named Morgan Weiss may have his own agenda potentially adverse to the Hammonds.”

“Good. Stay on him.” A potential internal fracture. Useful. “What else?”

“Your father called twenty minutes ago. He requests an immediate call back regarding the Hammond situation.”

I suppress a sigh. Fucking perfect. My father like a vulture circling prey he didn’t even wound himself. I’d hoped I’d broken free of him years ago. But you can never really break of a man like that. “Patch him through.”

Tatiana taps her own device and leaves my office, shutting the door behind her. A moment later Mark Blackwell’s voice booms from the speakerphone.

“Christopher. About fucking time. What’s this nonsense I hear about Hammond’s daughter trying to negotiate? Don’t tell me you’re entertaining thisbullshit.”

He knowsalready?

Fuck him and the corporate spies he no doubt sent to the expo.

Still, I suppose it’s hard to keep a secret from a man who has a prominent position on my company’s own board.

Biggest mistake of my life.

“Father,” I keep my voice level. A skill honed through years of dealing with his particular brand of manipulative garbage. “I’m handling the Hammond acquisition according to my own strategy.”

“Yourstrategy? Your fucking strategy should be simple. Crush them. They’re weak fuckers. Ripe for the taking. Richard Hammond owes people favors all over town. Always did business on a handshake and a prayer. Sentimental old fool. Liquidate the assets. Sell the nameplate to some third tier developer. Make an example of the fucks.”

Classic Mark Blackwell. Scorched earth. Maximum collateral damage. It’s how he built his empire. It’s what he expects from me. What he’s always expected. Prove you’re ruthless. Prove you’re a Blackwell. Prove you’rehisson.

Fuck that.

“Hammond & Co. has legacy assets that could be valuable if integrated correctly, not justliquidated,” I counter coolly, watching the city lights flicker below. “Blind destruction isn’t always the most profitable path.”

“Profitable?” He scoffs. “This isn’t just about profit, Christopher. It’s aboutpower. It’s about reminding everyone who dominates this city.”

Ah there it is. The power vendetta masquerading as business advice. Always the fucking same. For years I fought from underneath it, building BlackwellInnovations brick by digital brick just to prove I wasn’t him. That I could succeed on my own terms. Using technology and foresight, not just brute force and backroom deals. Yet here he is still trying to pull my strings.

“Mymethods have built a multi-billion dollar company, Father,” I state, letting the implication hang.Mycompany. Not yours. “I don’t need reminders on how to handle acquisitions. I’ll secure the Hammond assets. My way.”

There’s a beat of silence. I can picture him on the other end, his face tight with disapproval. “Don’t let that girl distract you, Christopher. Women like that... legacy heiresses playing businesswomen... they’re trouble. Use them to get what you need, then cut them loose. Sentiment is weakness.”

My jaw tightens. The casual dismissal. The ingrained misogyny. The echo of his justification for why my mother left. Because she was sentimental. Because she was weak. Because she couldn’t stomach his controlling, suffocating world.

“My focus is purely on the business advantages, Father,” I lie smoothly. Or mostly lie. “Lucy Hammond is merely a component in the negotiation.” A component that refuses to fit neatly into the box I’d assigned her.

“See that she remains just a component.” His tone is sharp. “Don’t disappoint me, Christopher.”

The line clicks dead.

I stand there for a long moment.Disappointhim. The story of my fucking life. Either I wasn’t ruthless enough or I was becoming too much like him. An impossible tightrope walk over a chasm of expectations.