Chapter 13: A Game of Shadows

The air in the study thickened, heavy with tension and the scent of polished wood and expensive secrets. Savannah’s eyes flicked from Jackson to Delilah, the two forces in the room who seemed so effortlessly capable of shaping her future , one with a contract, the other with a threat.

Delilah hadn’t moved. She stood in the doorway like a promise of trouble, a silhouette framed by the chandelier’s cold glow. Her smile was lazy, amused, as though the turmoil she’d walked into was nothing more than an evening’s entertainment.

“Well?” she drawled, glancing between them. “No one going to offer me a drink? A seat? Or perhaps a little honesty?”

Jackson moved first. Not a step, but a shift , a tightening of the jaw, the set of his shoulders hardening until he was steel carved into a man’s shape.

“What do you want, Delilah?” His voice held a coldness that didn’t surprise Savannah but unsettled her deeply; she had never heard him sound so personal, so dangerously familiar.

Delilah’s laughter was soft, melodic, the dangerous kind that coiled around the room like smoke. “Relax, darling. I didn’t come here to destroy you. If I wanted that, your father would’ve had the news cameras on standby by now.”

Jackson took a sharp step forward, anger simmering beneath the surface. “Don’t mention him.”

Delilah lifted her hands in mock surrender. “Sensitive, are we?”

Savannah stood silent, heart pounding. She wasn’t sure whether she wanted to run or scream or drag Jackson out by the lapels and force him to explain everything all at once. But Delilah’s gaze slid toward her, and Savannah felt something icy slip down her spine.

“You look pale,” Delilah murmured. “Rough night?”

Savannah’s fingers tightened at her sides. “I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not,” Delilah corrected with a smirk. “You’re realizing you married into a family that chews people like you up for breakfast. Don’t worry, honey. We’ve all been there.”

Savannah bristled. “We are not the same.”

Delilah’s brows arched. “Oh? You’re right. I lasted three years. How long do you think you’ll manage?”

Jackson cut in, his voice a blade. “Enough, Delilah.”

She smiled , that slow, knowing smile that made Savannah’s stomach twist. “Oh, but I haven’t even started.”

She stepped into the room, approaching the desk with calculated elegance. Her presence was unsettling, not just because she was beautiful or dangerous… but because she was familiar with this house. Too familiar.

Savannah’s gaze drifted to Jackson. His eyes were cold, but there was something beneath that , exhaustion, maybe. Fear?

Delilah tapped a manicured nail against the contract folder Savannah had signed days earlier. “You know,” she said lightly, “when I heard Jackson got married, I thought, surely not. He barely lets anyone breathe too close to him, much less bind themselves to him legally.”

Savannah swallowed hard, heat rising to her cheeks. The words stung, not because they were insulting, but because they were true. Jackson didn’t let people close.

Delilah tapped the folder again. “Then I saw this. And oh, sweetheart…” She lifted the contract between two fingers. “This isn’t a marriage. This is a business merger with better outfits.”

Savannah’s lips pressed into a thin line. “You have no right to go through my things.”

“I have every right,” Delilah countered, eyes gleaming. “I know Jackson better than anyone in this room.”

“That was in the past,” Jackson snapped.

Delilah shrugged. “Past, present , same thing in your world, isn’t it? Everything repeats. Everything comes back to haunt you.”

Jackson’s tension shifted into something darker, quieter. “What are you here for?”

Delilah’s smile disappeared.

She pulled a thin file from her bag and set it on the desk.

“This,” she said. “I thought you might want to see it before your father does.”

Jackson’s hand hovered over the file but did not touch it. “What is this?”

“A list of properties,” Delilah said. “Leased under subsidiaries you never approved. And every one of them ties back to Harrison.” She paused, letting the name settle like poison. “Your father’s been laying a trap for months.”

Savannah stiffened. The idea of Harrison , the sharp-eyed patriarch who looked at her like she was dirt under his shoe , plotting behind Jackson’s back felt all too plausible.

“And that’s not all,” Delilah continued. Her tone softened just faintly , not with affection, but something like reluctant understanding. “Harrison tampered with the trust clause. If this goes public, your marriage won’t save you. The shareholders will see it as fraud.”

Savannah felt herself freeze. Fraud. That word could destroy everything , the company, the contract, even her own life by association.

Jackson’s expression shifted. Slow. Controlled. But the flicker of dread in his eyes was unmistakable.

“You’re lying,” he said, but the words were too flat to be convincing.

“You think I walked into your house with no proof?” She pushed the file toward him. “Read it. Your father forged dates, signatures, entire sequences in the financial chain. If the clause is invalid, the trust reverts , and you lose the company.”

Savannah swallowed. This wasn’t a petty family game. It was war.

Jackson finally opened the file. His eyes scanned the contents, and with each passing second Savannah watched his composure crack. Barely, but enough.

Delilah stepped closer to Savannah, her perfume one of expensive roses and sharper undertones. “You think you’re the problem,” she whispered. “You’re not. You’re a symptom. He never marries for love, darling. He marries to fight.”

Savannah’s heart clenched. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because the last woman who stood next to Jackson didn’t know what she was stepping into.” Delilah’s gaze flicked toward Jackson, something like pain passing through her expression. “And she almost died for it.”

Savannah went cold. “What do you mean?”

Delilah didn’t answer. Or rather, her silence was the answer.

Jackson slammed the file shut.

“That’s enough,” he said quietly. Dangerously. “Delilah, get out.”

She laughed softly. “Still the same. You never want the truth until it’s burning you alive.”

Jackson stepped toward her, jaw clenched. “I said, ”

“Fine,” Delilah interrupted, smoothly slipping past him toward the door. “But remember this: I didn’t come here to destroy you.”

She turned her head, eyes cutting to Savannah.

“I came to warn her.”

She left without looking back. The door closed behind her with a soft click that felt like the beginning of something much bigger.

The room was silent.

Jackson stood frozen. Steady on the outside. Shattered on the inside.

Savannah’s voice broke the quiet. “Is it true?”

He didn’t answer.

“Jackson,” she whispered, stepping closer. “Look at me.”

He did , and in his eyes she saw the truth. Fear. Fury. And something else. Something that hurt to witness.

“Yes,” he said finally. “It’s true.”

Savannah’s breath trembled out of her. “So the marriage… the contract… it won’t protect you?”

“No,” he said. “It won’t.”

“And me?” she whispered. “What happens to me?”

Jackson closed the distance between them in two strides, his hands gripping her arms, not hurting, but grounding her in place.

“You,” he said, voice low, thick with something she’d never heard from him, “are now tied to me in a war you didn’t ask for. And I swear to you, ”

He swallowed hard.

“I will not let my father use you. I will not let him touch you. I will not let him break you.”

Savannah’s breath caught.

The man holding her wasn’t the cold CEO, or the calculating strategist, or the ruthless heir.

He was something else.

Something real.

She didn’t know whether to trust him , but she didn’t step away.

“Savannah,” he whispered, head lowering just inches from hers, “I don’t know how to protect a marriage. But I know how to protect what’s mine.”

Her heart stuttered.

“Am I?” she whispered. “Yours?”

His answer came without hesitation.

“Yes.”

The door slammed open.

Both of them spun.

Grayson stood there, breathless, pale as paper.

“Jackson,” he rasped. “We have a problem.”

Jackson didn’t blink. “Bigger than Harrison?”

“Much bigger.”

Grayson stepped into the room, holding a tablet with trembling fingers.

“The press,” he said. “They already have the documents.”

Savannah’s blood turned to ice.

Jackson’s eyes went dead still.

Delilah hadn’t come to warn them.

She’d come to take her shot.