Chapter 3Wiring Her Money Was His Habit

The plan worked seamlessly. Too seamlessly.

Our first 'performance' was at the Friday pitch meeting. Harper presented an acquisition strategy, and right on cue, I tore it apart.

"Harper, your risk assessment here is practically nonexistent," I said, leaning back in my chair, projecting icy indifference. "Before you try to reinvent the wheel, perhaps you should familiarize yourself with our baseline conservative models?"

Harper's lower lip actually trembled. The tears welled up instantly, shining in her massive eyes. "Madeline, I know I'm the junior here, but I spent all weekend pulling these analytics. The market trends..."

"Trends change with the wind," I interrupted with a cold laugh. "We deal in hard data, not textbook theories."

The tension in the boardroom was suffocating. The junior analysts were staring at their laptops, terrified to breathe.

Right on cue, Carter cleared his throat. "Maddie, let's dial it back."

His voice was a masterclass in gentle authority. "Harper might be new to our specific culture, but her angle is incredibly innovative. We can't let seniority blind us to fresh perspectives."

Harper looked at him like he had just pulled her from a burning building. The raw hero-worship in her eyes made my stomach churn, even knowing it was supposedly part of the plan.

"Thank you, Carter," she breathed. "I promise I won't let you down."

At first, I compartmentalized it. I told myself it was just business. But then, the lines began to blur.

Carter started quietly reassigning my flagship accounts to Harper. He gave her my two best junior analysts. He even moved her office from the bullpen to the executive floor, directly across the hall from mine.

"Don't you think you're overdoing it?" I cornered him in the breakroom a month into the charade. "She's practically co-director at this point."

He didn't even look up from his espresso. "You have to commit to the bit, Maddie. We have to show her we value her beyond her last name. Think of the big picture."

The big picture.

The illusion shattered the night I forgot my laptop charger and went back to the office at 9 PM.

The lights were off, save for the warm glow spilling from Harper’s office. I walked quietly down the hall.

Carter was standing behind Harper's leather chair. In his hands was a velvet jeweler's box.

"Happy birthday, Harper," his voice was a low, intimate murmur that sent a shockwave of nausea through me.

She popped the box open and gasped. Nestled inside was a diamond collar necklace. It was blinding.

"Carter, my god... this is too much. I can't accept this!"

"Take it," he insisted, his voice thick with an emotion I hadn't heard in years. "You deserve the best."

He stepped closer, brushing her hair over her shoulder, and fastened the diamonds around her neck. His fingertips lingered on her bare skin for a long, heavy moment.

I stood in the shadows of the hallway, the blood roaring in my ears, feeling my world tilt on its axis.

The next morning, I threw a printed photo of the jeweler's receipt—which I had found on his assistant's desk—onto Carter's keyboard.

"Is this the plan, Carter?" I demanded, my voice trembling. "A hundred-and-fifty-thousand-dollar diamond necklace?"

He glanced at the paper, his jaw clenching in immediate defensive anger. "What is your problem?"

"My problem? You're dropping six figures on a twenty-something's birthday! Is this part of the 'strategy'?"

"Do you know nothing about ROI?" he snapped, pushing back from his desk. "A necklace is a drop in the bucket. When we sign the Apex Trust, that money comes back tenfold!"

ROI. The word tasted like ash. "You're treating emotional manipulation like an investment strategy?"

"Madeline, Jesus Christ!" He slammed his hands on the desk, his face flushed with sudden, explosive rage. "Can you stop being so incredibly suffocating? I am doing what it takes to secure our future! And frankly, I'm getting sick of your constant paranoia!"

He shoved past me, his shoulder clipping mine so hard I stumbled sideways. My arm slammed into the sharp edge of the marble credenza. A dark, ugly bruise would bloom there by evening.

I cradled my arm, staring at the back of the man I loved.

"You'll do whatever it takes?" I asked the empty room.

"Whatever it takes," he threw over his shoulder without looking back. "Even if it means dealing with your goddamn jealousy."

The door clicked shut, severing six years of history like a guillotine.