Chapter Forty-Two: Collateral

I didn’t feel the impact right away.

That was the most dangerous part.

Marcus’s words hung in the air flagged you as the trigger but my body hadn’t caught up yet. My mind was still sprinting ahead, calculating angles, consequences, escape routes that didn’t exist.

“They froze his accounts?” I repeated.

“Yes,” Marcus said. “Personal and residual business holdings.”

Elliot’s hand tightened around mine. “That shouldn’t be possible without federal review.”

Marcus nodded once. “It wasn’t federal.”

Liam swore under his breath. “Private leverage.”

My stomach dropped. “So he didn’t just touch my family. He strangled them.”

“Not yet,” Marcus said. “This is pressure, not destruction. He wants response.”

I closed my eyes for a second, steadying myself. When I opened them again, the ballroom lights felt too bright, the laughter too loud, the world obscenely normal.

“He’s forcing me to choose,” I said.

Elliot shook his head. “No. He’s trying to make you think you have to.”

We moved quickly out of the venue, into the waiting car, the doors shutting with a finality that echoed too close to my chest. The city blurred past the windows as Marcus made calls, his voice low and controlled.

I stared at my reflection in the glass.

I looked calm.

That frightened me more than panic ever had.

My father didn’t answer on the first call.

Or the second.

When he finally did, his voice was tight, clipped in a way I hadn’t heard since I was a child and money had been scarce and pride had been heavier than fear.

“They’re saying it’s temporary,” he said. “A review.”

My throat burned. “Dad… I’m so sorry.”

Silence.

Then, softer, “What did you get yourself into?”

That hurt more than the threat ever could.

“I’ll fix it,” I said.

“You always say that,” he replied not accusing, just tired.

The call ended shortly after.

I sat there staring at my phone until Elliot gently took it from my hand.

“He’s not blaming you,” he said.

“He shouldn’t have to be involved at all.”

“That’s exactly why this is working,” Marcus said from the front seat. “You care.”

“And he knows it,” Liam added.

The car pulled into the driveway, security lights flaring on. The house felt different when we entered less like a refuge, more like a command center.

Marcus didn’t waste time. “He’s testing how far he can go before you fold.”

“I won’t,” I said.

“But you’ll feel it,” Marcus replied. “Every move he makes from now on will touch something you value.”

Elliot turned to me. “We need to limit exposure.”

“No,” I said firmly. “We need to control narrative.”

They all looked at me.

“He froze my father’s accounts quietly because he thinks silence protects him,” I continued. “So we remove silence.”

Liam frowned. “You want to go public?”

“Not yet,” I said. “But I want him to know I can.”

Marcus studied me with new interest. “You’re escalating asymmetrically.”

I met his gaze. “I’m done reacting.”

The message came the next morning.

No theatrics. No riddles.

Just a time and a place.

And one sentence:

You can end this today.

I stared at the screen, my pulse steady.

Elliot read it over my shoulder. “This is coercion.”

“Yes,” I said. “And desperation.”

Liam crossed his arms. “Or confidence.”

Marcus shook his head slightly. “No. This is impatience.”

I typed my response carefully.

You don’t get to decide when this ends.

The reply took longer this time.

You’re learning.

But you’re still bleeding collateral.

My jaw tightened.

“He’s not done with my family,” I said.

“No,” Marcus agreed. “Which means we intercept.”

The meeting place was a private art gallery clean lines, white walls, too much money pretending to be culture. Public enough to deter violence, exclusive enough to control access.

This time, I didn’t arrive alone.

I walked in flanked by Elliot and Marcus, Liam watching from across the room, eyes sharp, posture relaxed but lethal.

The man stood near a sculpture of fractured glass.

Appropriate.

“You brought an audience,” he said calmly.

“I brought witnesses,” I replied.

His gaze flicked briefly to Elliot. “Still hiding behind him?”

Elliot didn’t move. Didn’t react.

I stepped forward. “You wanted me here. Talk.”

He smiled faintly. “Your father is proud, you know. He didn’t ask for help.”

Rage flared hot and immediate. “You don’t get to talk about him.”

“I get to talk about whatever I touch.”

Marcus spoke then, voice cold. “You’ve crossed into extortion.”

The man shrugged. “Call it leverage.”

“You want something,” I said sharply. “Say it.”

He studied me, really studied me, like he was reassessing the board.

“I want you to step away from them,” he said finally, nodding toward Elliot and Marcus. “From their protection. Their influence.”

Elliot tensed. “Absolutely not.”

I held up a hand.

“And in return?” I asked.

“I release your father’s assets,” he said. “Quietly.”

My heart slammed once.

“And if I refuse?”

He smiled. “Then we see how much else matters to you.”

Silence fell.

I looked at Elliot. At Marcus. At Liam across the room.

Then I turned back to him.

“You misunderstand something fundamental,” I said calmly.

“And what’s that?”

“I don’t bargain with people who think they own my fear.”

His expression hardened. “Then you’ll lose.”

I leaned in, close enough that only he could hear me.

“Then you’ve already miscalculated.”

I stepped back and turned away.

Marcus was already on his phone.

The man called after me, voice sharp for the first time. “You’re making a mistake.”

I didn’t stop walking.

“No,” I said. “You are.”

That night, my sister called voice shaking.

“Someone came to the house,” she whispered. “Asking questions about you.”

My chest went cold.

And I knew

He wasn’t testing me anymore.

He was retaliating.