Violet’s POV
The conference room hums with silence that feels deliberately weaponized.
I watch Zachary scroll through his tablet with the kind of focused intensity that communicates exactly how much he wishes I wasn't here.
His fingers move across the screen with confident precision, and I catch myself studying the line of his jaw—sharp, defined, objectively attractive in that infuriating way that makes me want to argue with him about everything.
Then I resent him for it. For being attractive. For making me notice.
I shift in my chair, the leather creaking loud enough to break the quiet. He doesn't look up.
"So." I lean forward, resting my elbows on the polished table. "What exactly are we planning for this meeting? The agenda was remarkably vague."
His gaze lifts from the screen. Frost settles into the space between us.
"We aren't planning anything." Each word carries careful emphasis. "Adison and Jake are planning. I'm facilitating. You're observing."
"Observing." I repeat the word like it tastes bitter. "That sounds thrilling."
"You shouldn't be here at all." He sets the tablet down with deliberate precision. "This discussion involves sensitive strategy. Information that could be weaponized if it reaches the wrong people."
The implication lands sharp and unmistakable. He still doesn't trust me. Still sees me as Walter's sister first, ally second.
Something honest rises in my chest before I can contain it.
"I wish Adison were my sister." The confession escapes quieter than I intend. "Actually my sister. Not just—" I gesture vaguely, searching for words. "I admire her more than anyone in my actual family. My loyalty isn't performance, Zachary. It's real."
His expression doesn't soften. If anything, it sharpens.
"Loyalty requires proof through action." He leans back, studying me with clinical attention. "Not a declaration. Anyone can claim allegiance. Very few people actually maintain it when tested."
The assessment cuts precisely because it's fair. I've spent years performing loyalty to a family that never valued me, switching allegiances like outfits depending on what benefited me most.
Why would he believe I'm different now?
Before I can formulate a response that doesn't sound defensive, the conference room door opens.
Adison and Jake enter together, and something in the air shifts immediately. They're radiant—there's no other word for it. Glowing despite everything Walter's threatened, despite the chaos waiting to explode around them.
Jake holds something in his hand. Small. Square. He extends it toward the table like he's offering a sacred artifact.
"Ultrasound photo." Adison's voice carries wonder wrapped in fierce protectiveness. "From this morning."
I stand without thinking, crossing to where they've stopped. The image is grainy, abstract—shapes that barely resemble anything human. But the joy radiating from both of them makes it the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.
"Congratulations." The word leaves my mouth genuine and unguarded. "Really. That's—that's amazing."
Jake meets my eyes directly, and I brace for the suspicion I've earned from him over weeks of terrible choices. But what I find instead is acceptance. Warmth. Like maybe he's decided I'm not the girl who tried to seduce him anymore.
Something blooms in my chest—warm, unexpected, almost uncomfortable in its tenderness. I belong to this unlikely quartet. Not through blood or obligation, but through choice. Through showing up when it mattered.
"Thank you, Violet." Jake's voice carries a sincerity that makes my throat tight. "That means something."
We settle into chairs around the conference table, the ultrasound photo placed in the center like a promise we're all protecting now.
Zachary clears his throat, sliding back into professional mode with visible effort. "The press release strategy." He pulls up documents on the large screen mounted to the wall. "We announce the engagement Friday at noon. Clean, direct, no room for speculation or scandal."
I study the draft he's displaying, my mind already cataloging modifications that would strengthen the message. The words are competent but clinical—lacking the warmth that would make this feel like a love story instead of damage control.
"What if—" I start, then stop. Brace myself for dismissal.
"What if what?" Adison prompts, her attention shifting to me with genuine interest.
"The language is too formal." I gesture at the screen, forcing confidence I don't entirely feel. "It reads like a corporate merger announcement. You need something that communicates emotion. That makes people feel the relationship instead of just acknowledging it."
Zachary's eyebrows rise. Surprise flickers behind his professional composure.
"Specifically?" His tone carries less frost than before. Grudging curiosity replacing outright dismissal.
"Start with the connection." I stand, moving closer to the screen. "How you met. The ranch. Make it personal before you make it public. People respond to narrative, not statements of fact."
Adison leans forward, her expression shifting into something focused. Strategic. "Show me what you mean."
I reach for the tablet Zachary abandoned, pulling up the document and making quick edits. My fingers move faster than my thoughts, reshaping sentences into something that sounds like people who actually love each other instead of executives managing a crisis.
When I finish, I slide the tablet back across the table. "Something like that."
Silence stretches while Adison reads. Zachary leans over her shoulder, his expression unreadable.
"This is good." Adison looks up, and the approval in her voice makes my chest swell. "Really good, Violet."
"Intelligent modifications." Zachary's admission comes reluctantly but genuine. "The emotional framing strengthens the overall message significantly."
I fight the smile threatening to crack my carefully maintained composure. He called my work intelligent. Zachary Cooper, who's spent two days treating me like an incompetent child, just acknowledged I contributed something valuable.
Jake's the last to speak. He studies the revised text, his jaw tight with tension that has nothing to do with the quality of the writing.
"You're sure about this?" He directs the question at Adison, but his eyes find mine briefly. "Going public this way?"
"I'm sure." Adison's hand finds his across the table. "We control this narrative, or Walter does. Those are the only options."
Jake nods slowly, resignation and determination warring in his expression. "Then we do it. Friday at noon."
"Two days." Zachary makes notes on his tablet with quick, efficient movements. "We finalize the language tonight, coordinate with PR tomorrow morning, and release it through official channels Friday."
Two days to prepare for everything to change.
I settle back into my chair, watching these three people who've somehow become my family prepare for battle. Adison—fierce and brilliant and everything I want to become. Jake—steady and protective and genuinely good in ways I'm still learning to recognize. Zachary—infuriating and competent and maybe, possibly, starting to see me as something other than a liability.
We're doing this together. All of us. And for the first time in my life, I'm not performing loyalty. I'm living it.