All Chapters of My Father’s Enemy, My Obsession : Chapter 31 - Chapter 40

“This is insane,” she whispers. “My father’s planning to throw me at the Beauchamps like a sacrificial lamb. You’re sitting on a drive that could end him. And we’re in here arguing about ethics like we’re in a seminar, not a war room.”He’s in front of her now.Close enough that she has to tilt her head back again, close enough that she can see the tiny flecks of silver in his irises.“We’re not arguing about ethics,” he says. “We’re arguing about trust.”“I don’t trust you,” she says automatically.“Lie,” he says.She inhales sharply.“I don’t,” she insists.“Then why are you here?” he asks. “Why are you in my office with those files instead of on the phone with a prosecutor? Why did you come back to my bed last night when Leo gave you a week to cut me out?”His words hit like body blows.“Don’t bring him into this,” she says.“He’s already in it,” Damian says. “Vince is in it. Valen is in it. The only person you’re pretending is on the sidelines is you.”“I am in the blast radius of

Riley cuts right at the next corner, away from the brighter avenue and toward a side street that leads to her building.The lamps here are older, dimmer, the light pooling in uneven circles on cracked pavement.She tells herself she’s not running.Her stride just… lengthens.Her phone is still in her hand. Nolan’s name hovers under her thumb.She debates calling.He’ll say she should have let him put her in a car. He’ll get that tight look in his eyes. He’ll worry.And yet—A scuff of shoe leather on asphalt behind her, faster now.Decision made.She hits call.A car passes at the wrong moment, headlights flaring, engine roar drowning the first ring.The line clicks.“Riley?” Nolan’s voice, alert. “You’re not home.”“On my way,” she says, trying for breezy and landing closer to breathless. “Just left the station. You know, enjoying the ambiance of our fine city—”“Which street,” he cuts in. Calm. Too calm.She hesitates a fraction too long.“Riley.”She exhales. “Thirty‑fourth, betwee

If Ava didn’t know better, she’d think the universe was conspiring to make her forget.The donor dinner is every kind of awful she expected—too much crystal, too many white teeth, Vince playing benevolent king in a bespoke suit. She smiles when she’s supposed to, laughs when the old men with power and liver spots make jokes about “the next generation,” lets Tristan Beauchamp kiss her hand and talk about hunting lodges like she’s already hanging her coat in one.By the time she gets home, her cheeks hurt from smiling.She peels off the dress, scrubs off the makeup, and stands under too‑hot water until her skin feels almost new.When she finally crawls into bed, her phone buzzes once on the nightstand.**D:** *Home?*She stares at it for a beat, thumb hovering.She could lie.She doesn’t.**Yeah. Still alive.**The typing dots appear, disappear.**D:** *Good. Sleep. Call me before you do anything stupid tomorrow.*She huffs a tired laugh.**Define stupid.**No answer.She drops the phon

He flinches, just a fraction.She sees it.“Thank you,” she says, bitter. “For finally blinking.”“That’s not why,” he says, low.“Really?” she says. “Because from where I’m sitting, I see a man with a file labeled PROJECT AVA on his drive and a list of ways my father plans to erase me if I step out of line, and you’re not showing me that. You’re not asking me what *I* want to do with that information. You’re making the choice for me.”“How do you know about PROJECT AVA?” he asks sharply.Her heart misfires.Shit.“Cass found a trace,” she lies reflexively. “In some… leaked files. She sees patterns. That’s what she does.”He watches her, weighing.He’s good at spotting lies.She gives him a truth adjacent to a bigger one and hopes he accepts the half‑measure.After a beat, he lets it go.“For the record,” he says, “that file is why I am currently not kicking in your father’s door and ending this all tonight. Because if I move wrong, he pushes that button, and you get caught in the bla

The car is too quiet.City noise seeps in faintly through the glass—horns, brakes, the low roar of Manhattan—but inside, it’s just the thud of Ava’s pulse and the soft hum of the engine.She stares straight ahead, fingers clenched in her lap.Her coffee sits abandoned in the cupholder, cold and forgotten.Damian watches her for a long beat before he says anything.“You okay?” he asks finally.It’s a stupid question.“No,” she says. “Are you?”“No,” he says. “But I’m used to it.”She huffs a humorless breath.Her chest still feels tight from Leo’s words. From her own.From the way his face looked when she walked to Damian’s side.“Leo knows,” she says, voice low. “About… us. It is about more than is safe.”“Leo’s not blind,” Damian says. “He’s been watching cameras and corridors for years. The only surprise was how long it took him to admit it.”“He threatened to go to Vince,” she says. “He gave me a week. I just cut that in half.”Damian leans back, eyes on her profile.“He called him