Chapter 186: A Dropped Bomb? [FIXED!][11/10!]

Liam stood on the porch for a moment after the security team finished their first sweep, watching Tobias settle into position by the side of the house while Reggie’s sedan idled quietly down the street.

There was something deeply satisfying about it. A few weeks ago, he couldn’t have afforded a single night of protection like this. Now he’d arranged round-the-clock coverage with three phone calls and hadn’t even checked the price. The money had done exactly what he needed it to do, and Sophia could breathe again because of it.

It felt good. But it wasn’t nearly enough.

A little over a million dollars sounded like a fortune, and to most people it was. But Liam had spent years inside Harlan & Associates. He’d seen the size of the accounts that walked through those doors, the kind of clients who measured their legal fees in figures he used to only see on paperwork. And he’d seen what Arthur could do with that kind of backing: get a man fired, bury the evidence, and have someone watching him without breaking a sweat. Against people like that, a million dollars was a starting point, not a finish line.

The firm. The building. The people he wanted to protect. All of it needed more than he had.

He pushed the thought aside for now and walked over to Tobias and Dele.

"Before I head out," he said, pulling out his phone, "I want both your numbers. And Reggie’s."

Tobias recited them without hesitation, and Liam saved all three.

"One more thing," Liam added. "You guys do this properly, no cutting corners, no dozing off in the car at three in the morning, and there’ll be something extra in it for each of you at the end of every week. On top of whatever the agency pays."

Dele raised an eyebrow. "That’s generous."

"It’s motivation," Liam said. "I’d rather pay for people who take it seriously than save money on people who don’t."

Tobias gave a slow nod. "Understood. Nobody gets near this house."

"That’s what I want to hear."

He went back inside, where Sophia was sitting at the kitchen table with her burger finally unwrapped, Mateo across from her stealing an onion ring.

"I’m heading out," Liam said.

Sophia looked up. Something flickered across her face, a moment of reluctance she quickly smoothed away. "Already?"

"You’ve got three very large men watching the house. I think you’re in good hands." He paused. "But if you need anything, and I mean anything, call me. Day or night."

"I will."

"Bye, Liam!" Mateo called through a mouthful of onion ring.

"Chew your food, bud."

Sophia walked him to the door and squeezed his hand briefly before letting go. He felt her watching him until he reached the car.

As he pulled away, his mind drifted, and for the first time all day, Rachel crossed it.

He’d barely thought about her. Not since the missed call at the diner, and not since the system notification that her bond had weakened. She was good company, and he was still working her case. But he’d never made her promises. He’d never told her they were exclusive or that this was going anywhere serious. He was single, and he’d been honest about it.

Still, a quiet voice in the back of his head reminded him that being honest didn’t always stop people from getting hurt.

Liam heard it, acknowledged it, and pushed it to the back of his mind.

That was a problem for another day.

-

Liam had barely shut the car door when his phone started buzzing in the cupholder.

He glanced down, expecting Sophia with one last question, or maybe Vanessa finally replying to his message from earlier.

It was neither.

[Mrs. Harriet]

For a second, he just looked at the name. Not long ago, seeing it light up his screen would have sent his pulse through the roof. It was the name that came before late-night summonses to her office, before reviews he wasn’t ready for, and before every quiet reminder that his career depended on her mood that day. He used to answer on the first ring, already halfway out of his chair.

Now he leaned back against the headrest and smirked.

He didn’t need to guess what kind of mood she was in. The system had been quiet about her since the bag went out. No spike, no drop, no shift in her emotional state worth flagging. She felt about him exactly the way she had before the delivery.

That told him two things.

The first was reassuring. Whatever she thought of the gift, and of what he’d tucked inside it, she wasn’t angry. If he’d overstepped, he would have known.

The second was more interesting. A two-hundred-thousand-dollar handbag hadn’t moved her an inch. Most people would have melted at least a little. Mrs. Harriet hadn’t. She wasn’t a woman who could be bought with nice things, and the longer Liam thought about it, the more that made sense. She’d been surrounded by money her whole life. A designer label wasn’t going to impress her. What she cared about was competence, leverage, and whether a man was worth her time.

That was fine. He hadn’t really expected the bag to be what won her over anyway.

The phone kept ringing.

Liam watched it, thumb resting on the edge of the cupholder, and didn’t pick up.

The old version of him would never have done this. The old Liam would have answered before the second ring, sitting up straight in his car, voice pitched just right, ready to apologize for whatever she was about to accuse him of. He’d spent years being available whenever she wanted him.

He wasn’t doing that anymore.

If he answered now, sixty seconds after she called, he’d be telling her that he was still the eager associate waiting by the phone. That she could reach for him and find him right where she’d left him. That she held all the power.

She didn’t. Not anymore.

The ringing stopped. The screen went dark for a moment, then lit up again with a single notification.

[Missed Call: Mrs. Harriet]

Liam grinned to himself.

She was probably calling to thank him, or at least to acknowledge the bag in that cool, clipped way of hers. Maybe she’d already found the flash drive and wanted to know exactly where he’d gotten what was on it. Either way, the conversation could wait. A little silence on his end would make her wonder, and a woman like Mrs. Harriet hated not knowing things.

He’d call her back. Just not tonight, and not on her schedule.

He slid the phone into his pocket and started the engine.

He had somewhere else to be.

Rachel.

He’d pushed her to the back of his mind for days, and as he pulled away from Sophia’s street, a small pang of guilt crept in. He’d been so caught up with the building, Vanessa, Sophia, and Mrs. Harriet that he’d let Rachel’s calls go unanswered. She didn’t know any of what had been happening. All she knew was that he’d gone quiet.

And he did have news for her.

He’d spent hours going through the paperwork on the apartment building, comparing the property records against what Marcus’s lawyers had put into the divorce filings. Some of it didn’t line up. The kind of discrepancies that, handled carefully, could shift the settlement in Rachel’s favor, maybe significantly.

That was worth telling her in person.

Liam turned toward her side of the city, mentally rehearsing how to lay it all out for her. Clearly. Calmly. With enough detail that she’d understand exactly where she stood, and without promising anything he couldn’t deliver.

Whatever else was going on between them, she deserved that much.

-

Mrs. Harriet watched the call ring out on her phone screen and set it face down on the desk without a flicker of irritation.

He hadn’t answered. Interesting, but not important. Not yet.

What mattered was sitting in front of her.

The Louis Vuitton bag rested on the corner of her study desk, elegant and untouched. Beside it lay the small black flash drive she’d found tucked carefully inside, and the open laptop where she’d spent the last two hours going through its contents file by file.

Arthur.

Everything was there. Internal communications that never should have left the firm’s servers. Records of decisions he’d made without the partners’ knowledge. Proof of exactly how he’d orchestrated Liam’s termination, along with enough of his other dealings to make the board very uncomfortable. With what was on this drive, she could do more than rein Arthur in. She could end him at Harlan & Associates permanently, and Richard would have no choice but to watch.

She should have felt victorious.

Instead, she felt a slow, cold unease spreading through her chest.

Because none of this should have been in Liam’s hands.

These weren’t rumors or office gossip. They were confidential files, locked behind access levels reserved for the partners alone. Liam had been a senior associate, trusted and capable, but even at his level he’d never had clearance for anything like this. And he’d been out of the building for weeks. There was no legitimate way he could have gotten hold of any of it.

And yet here it was, gift-wrapped and delivered to her door.

Mrs. Harriet leaned back in her chair, fingers steepled beneath her chin, and reconsidered everything she thought she knew about him.

If he could reach Arthur’s secrets, he could reach anyone’s. Hers. Richard’s. The firm she had spent years building into what it was today.

"That man..." she murmured, eyes fixed on the drive. "He’s a threat after all."