Chapter 15

Tristan 

I’m standing in the boardroom, staring at my team as they go back and forth about the amount of debt the Buckley Corporation is drowning in. Figures are being thrown around, files are being passed as everyone argues about solutions and damage control. The meeting has been going on for almost two hours now, and I should be paying attention. But I’m not.

“The fraudulent cases are the most pressing issue,” one of the analysts says, tapping his tablet. “If we don’t move quickly, regulators will start sniffing around. We recommend freezing several accounts while we quietly settle–”

Another voice cuts in. “The debt issue is just as bad. Suppliers are already threatening to pull out. If we don’t renegotiate–”

Even though I’m nodding my head at their words and questions, I am barely hearing what they're saying.

All I can think about is Zaria Buckley.

The image of her face keeps replaying in my mind. The way she looked when she walked after I threatened that fucking stupid guy at the club. Defiant, furious, proud. The way she blocked my number, thinking she could just disappear from my reach. As if replacing herself with Samantha was some clever escape plan.

My jaw tightens. How dare she try to push her sister onto me?

Samantha Buckley does not know the first thing about working at a company. She knows nothing about balance sheets, crisis management, or damage control. All she knows how to do is dress well, smile pretty, and expect doors to open for her. She has never worked for anything in her life, and that’s why I can’t have her sitting anywhere next to me. 

I squeeze my fingers slowly against the table, grounding myself. Anger is useless if I let it show. I have learned that lesson the hard way. Power is quieter. Control is colder. Still, it takes effort not to grind my teeth.

When Samantha walked into my office earlier, standing there with that smug confidence like she had somehow won, I almost lost it. Almost. For a split second, I had imagined dragging her out myself and calling Zaria just to make her watch the consequences of her stupidity unfold in real time.

Instead, I smiled. I let Samantha stay. I let her think she had stepped neatly into her sister’s place. I let her believe that she and her sister had outsmarted me, that she had slipped through my fingers.

People like her always make the same mistake. They think silence means surrender. So I will let her enjoy it. For now. Then I will pull the rug out from under her so hard she won’t know which way is up.

And Zaria will learn that blocking me, disobeying me, and trying to run will always come with consequences. She belongs exactly where I put her. And she will be punished for forgetting that.

“Sir?”

The word drags me out of my thoughts. I blink once and look up. Several pairs of eyes are on me now. Waiting for me to respond.

“What?” I ask, my voice flat.

One of the consultants clears his throat. “We were asking what direction you’d like us to take regarding the pending legal settlements and whether we should prioritize the debt restructuring or the internal audit first.”

For a moment, I try to recall what they were even talking about. I realize then just how little of the last ten minutes I have actually absorbed.

I clear my throat and check out the files. 

“Let me guess,” Shane says, smiling tauntingly at me. “You’re thinking about your assistant again.”

I turn my head toward him, fixing him with a hard glare. Shane immediately lifts both hands in mock surrender, still smiling. “Just saying,” he adds. “You tend to go quiet when she’s involved.”

I say nothing. My attention shifts back to the table, my expression unreadable as my team waits for my answer. That’s when my phone vibrates in my pocket. I reach for it, already prepared to silence whoever thinks this is a good time to interrupt me. Then the screen lights up.

Zaria Buckley. For a second, I just stare at her name. She blocked my number. I am certain of it. I remember trying to call her and getting notified that I can’t call this number. So why is she calling now?

I lift my head and look back at the room. “Give me a minute, guys,” I tell my team curtly, already moving toward the door. I don’t wait for their response. I step out into the hallway, the glass door clicking shut behind me, and answer the call.

“May I know why you are calling me after blocking my number?” I ask flatly. “Did you call to gloat about quitting? Or to tell me you finally ran away for good?”

There’s a sharp breath on the other end. “First of all, you’re a dumb head,” she snaps. A smile tugs at my lips before I can stop it.

“And second,” she continues, clearly irritated, “I didn’t quit. It wasn’t my decision. Sam said it’ll be better for her to work for you than me.”

I lean against the wall, my free hand curling slowly into a fist. Her family keeps testing me.

She sighs, long and heavy. “I didn’t want to call you,” she says quietly. “Believe me, I didn’t. But I need your help. With my father.”

Something shifts in my chest. Her voice sounds shaky. Like she’s holding herself together by force alone. Was she crying?

I push the thought away immediately. It shouldn’t even be my concern. I know her family treats her like an outsider. It’s up to her to wake up and stop letting them walking all over her. Still, my voice comes out tight when I speak again. “What’s going on?”

There’s a pause before she answers. “He’s forcing me to meet one of the investors tonight… and I think it’s wrong.”

My jaw tightens. Heat floods my veins, sharp and dangerous. I close my eyes, forcing myself to breathe through the surge of anger clawing its way up my spine. David Buckley never learns. He just keeps finding new ways to disgust me.

I straighten and open my eyes. “You’re not going to that meeting,” I say calmly.

“You don’t get to decide that,” she fires back, though her voice wavers.

“I do, you literally came to me for help.” I reply. “Listen to me. You’re going to dress as if you’re going out. Then you’re going to call him and ask him to meet you at the location I’m about to send.”

“What? No. Tristan, that doesn’t make any sense,” she starts.

“Zaria,” I cut in sharply. “Shut up and do exactly as I say.” She goes quiet.

“I’ll handle your father,” I continue, my voice low and controlled. “And I will not allow anything to happen to you. Understand?”

There’s silence on the line, thick and heavy. Then she exhales. “Okay,” she answers softly.

The call ends. I lower the phone slowly, my expression darkening.

David Buckley has crossed a line he will regret crossing. No one gets to force Zaria to do anything. No one gets to corner her, sell her, or break her down for convenience.

She is mine to deal with. Mine to push. Mine to bend when I decide. And I will make sure David Buckley never forgets that.

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