Chapter Sixty-Three: The War Room

Day Two

I woke up with the solution.

It came to me in that strange space between sleeping and waking, when my subconscious mind finally processed all the information I'd been feeding it. I sat up in bed so fast it made my head spin, but the clarity was absolute.

Marcus Blackstone targeted emotional vulnerabilities because he didn't have any himself.

Or at least, he'd convinced himself he didn't.

Which meant he wouldn't see his own weakness until it was too late.

I found Dominic in the kitchen area of the executive apartment, looking unfairly handsome in a white dress shirt and dark slacks. Coffee was brewing, and something that smelled like actual food was warming in the oven.

"You look like someone who just solved world hunger," he said, handing me a mug of coffee that was perfectly prepared—cream, no sugar, exactly how I liked it.

"I know what we're going to do," I said, accepting the coffee and the kiss he pressed to my temple. "I know how to beat him."

"Tell me."

"We're going to give him exactly what he wants."

Dominic's eyebrows rose. "I'm not following."

"Blackstone succeeds because he creates emotional chaos and then positions himself as the solution. He's doing it to us right now—spreading rumors about leadership instability, questioning my competence, making the board nervous about the company's future."

I moved to the window, looking out at Manhattan waking up sixty floors below. Somewhere in that maze of glass and steel, Marcus Blackstone was probably having his own morning coffee, confident that he was just days away from adding Van Alston Industries to his collection of corporate trophies.

"So instead of fighting those rumors," I continued, "we're going to amplify them. We're going to make Van Alston Industries look like the most unstable, unprofitable, legally problematic company in corporate America."

"You want to tank your own stock price?"

"I want to make Blackstone think he's winning." I turned back to face him, feeling the pieces of the plan clicking into place like weapons loading. "Every company he's acquired has followed the same pattern—emotional vulnerability leads to financial panic, which leads to a desperate board accepting his offer as the only solution."

"But you're going to control the panic."

"Exactly." I started pacing, energy coursing through me like electricity. "We manufacture crises that look devastating from the outside but are actually strategic moves we can reverse. We create the appearance of internal division while actually strengthening our position. We make him so confident in his victory that he doesn't see the trap until it's too late."

Dominic was watching me with that expression I was learning to recognize—equal parts admiration and desire, pride and protectiveness.

"That's incredibly risky," he said. "If you miscalculate even slightly, you could actually destroy the company you're trying to save."

"I know." I stopped pacing and looked directly at him. "Are you with me?"

"Always," he said without hesitation. "But Scarlett, if this goes wrong—"

"It won't."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Because Marcus Blackstone has spent twenty years hunting wounded prey. He's never faced a predator who was pretending to be wounded."

We were interrupted by the sharp chime of my phone. Unknown number, which usually meant either terrible news or a trap.

"Scarlett Blackwood," I answered, my voice crisp and professional.

"Mrs. Blackwood." The voice was smooth, cultured, with just a hint of an accent I couldn't place. "This is Marcus Blackstone. I believe we should meet."

My blood turned to ice water, but I kept my voice steady. "Mr. Blackstone. How unexpected."

"Is it? I think we both know why I'm calling." There was amusement in his voice, like he was enjoying a private joke. "I have a proposition for you. One that could save your company and spare your employees the pain of an extended battle."

"I'm listening."

"Lunch tomorrow. Neutral ground. Just the two of us, discussing terms like civilized people."

I looked at Dominic, who was watching me with sharp attention. He nodded once—a silent message that whatever game Blackstone was playing, we were ready for it.

"Alright, Mr. Blackstone. Tomorrow it is."

"Excellent. My assistant will send you the details." His voice took on a harder edge. "Oh, and Mrs. Blackwood? I do hope you've given serious thought to my offer. It would be unfortunate if this situation became... unpleasant."

The line went dead.

I stared at my phone for a long moment, processing the threat that had been wrapped in polite corporate speak.

"He's moving faster than expected," Dominic said.

"Good," I replied, feeling something fierce and dangerous rising in my chest. "So are we."

Outside the windows, Manhattan hummed with the energy of eight million people starting their day, building their lives, trusting that the companies they worked for would still exist tomorrow.

In less than twenty-four hours, I would sit across from the man who specialized in destroying that trust.

And I was going to show him what happened when someone threatened my family.

The war was about to begin.