POV: Jasmine
Liam's car was waiting at the curb when I emerged from Cadence Records at five o'clock.
I stopped on the sidewalk, staring at it. At him. He should have been gone by now—the mandatory leave started today, and defying the board meant defying Jackson, meant risking everything he'd already lost.
But there he was. Engine running. Eyes fixed on me through the windshield with an intensity that made my chest ache.
"Get in."
I hesitated. Every instinct screamed that I should walk away, and should protect him from whatever fallout my presence would bring. But I was so tired. So hollowed out. So desperate for something that felt safe.
I climbed into the passenger seat.
Neither of us spoke for several blocks. The city scrolled past the windows—normal people living normal lives, completely unaware that my world was collapsing in slow motion.
"Tell me," he finally said, voice rough. "Everything he's done. I need to know."
"Liam—"
"Don't protect me from this." His hands tightened on the steering wheel. "I've been watching through glass walls all week, seeing pieces of it. But I need to hear it. All of it."
So I told him.
The words poured out like poison I'd been swallowing for days. The touches that escalated daily—his hand on my thigh, fingers brushing my breast, breath hot on my neck. The demands about clothing, about presentation, about making myself available for his inspection. The kiss I couldn't escape, his tongue forcing past my lips while I stood frozen, mind floating somewhere near the ceiling.
And tomorrow. Jackson's ultimatum about tomorrow evening.
"He wants me at his apartment at eight," I said flatly. "Full cooperation, he called it. One evening to prove my worth. And if I refuse, he pulls his support, the contracts collapse, and everything you've built burns."
Liam pulled the car over abruptly, tires scraping against the curb. His breathing was ragged, hands white-knuckled on the wheel.
"I watched it happen," he said, voice cracking. "Through the office glass. Saw his hand in your hair, forcing your head back. Saw him kiss you while you stood frozen." He turned to look at me, eyes bright with something between rage and devastation. "That stillness scared me more than anything else could have. Because you fight, Jasmine. That's who you are. You push back against everything, too stubborn to surrender. But you didn't fight him. You just took it."
"What was I supposed to do?" The question came out broken. "Hit him? Scream? He's your father. He controls everything."
"Why didn't you tell me?" His hand found mine, grip almost painful. "Why didn't you let me help?"
"Because you couldn't. You still can't." I pulled my hand away gently. "He made it clear—if I don't cooperate, everything collapses. The contracts he negotiated have clauses that revert without his signature. The lawsuits come back. Six months, and the company is gone."
"I don't care about the company."
"Yes, you do." I met his eyes. "It's your mother's legacy. Everything she built, everything she believed you'd protect. That's why he's using it against us. He knows exactly what it means to you."
The truth silenced him. I watched him struggle with it—the impossible calculation of weighing the woman he loved against the memory of the mother he'd lost.
"There has to be another way," he said desperately. "We can find investors, restructure, fight him in court—"
"If there is, I haven't found it." My voice was hollow. "I've been looking for five days. Every angle, every option. He's covered them all."
"Then we let it burn." His jaw set with sudden determination. "The company, the legacy, all of it. None of it matters if the price is you."
"You don't mean that."
"I've never meant anything more." He cupped my face in his hands, forcing me to look at him. "Listen to me. You are more important than stock prices. More important than contracts. More important than anything my mother built or my father destroyed."
Tears spilled down my cheeks before I could stop them. "Liam—"
"Come home with me. Please. Just for tonight."
I should have said no. Should have maintained the distance that might protect him from Jackson's retaliation. But I was so tired of being strong. So tired of carrying this alone.
"Okay."
At the villa, he led me upstairs without a word. Ran a bath while I stood in the bathroom doorway, too exhausted to move. The water steamed, filling the room with warmth that felt foreign after days of cold dread.
"Let me take care of you," he said softly.
He undressed me with gentle hands that asked nothing in return. Helped me into the water and knelt beside the tub, washing away the day with careful attention—the makeup, the tension, the invisible residue of Jackson's touches that I could still feel on my skin.
"I'm sorry," I whispered.
"For what?"
"For dragging you into this. For not being strong enough to—"
"Stop." His hand stilled on my shoulder. "You're the strongest person I know. You've been carrying this alone because you thought you had to. But you don't. Not anymore."
The tears came harder then—great, heaving sobs that shook my whole body. Liam held me through it, water soaking his shirt, murmuring words I couldn't quite hear but understood anyway.
Later, wrapped in his robe, curled against his chest on the bed, I finally felt something other than fear. His heartbeat was steady under my ear. His arms were solid around me. For the first time in days, I could breathe.
"You're precious to me," he said into the darkness. "You're everything." His voice cracked. "I love you, Jasmine. I fucking love you."
The words settled into my chest like warmth. Like hope. Like something worth fighting for.
"I love you too," I whispered back.
We lay there in the quiet, and for a few perfect minutes, I let myself believe we might actually survive this.
Then my phone buzzed on the nightstand.
I reached for it automatically, stomach already clenching with dread. The screen glowed in the darkness, illuminating Jackson's name.
Tomorrow at 8 PM. Don't disappoint me.
And attached was a photo—black lace lingerie spread across white sheets. Designed to be removed. Designed to humiliate.
Liam saw it over my shoulder. His whole body went rigid.
"I'll kill him," he breathed. "I swear to God, I'll kill him."