Chapter 3 - The Ultimatum
Elias’s penthouse was everything Emily had expected and nothing she’d imagined. It occupied the entire top two floors of the new Voss Tower in River North, with floor-to-ceiling windows that looked out over Lake Michigan, white marble floors, and furniture that looked like it belonged in a museum—but it didn’t feel cold. It felt like a home. There were books stacked on the coffee table, a record player in the corner with a stack of old jazz albums next to it, and photos of Elias with his mom and little sister on the mantel.
The nurse Elias had hired—Marta, a warm, no-nonsense woman in her fifties who’d been a NICU nurse for twenty years—showed Emily and Liam to their suite: a huge bedroom with a king-sized bed, a walk-in closet full of new clothes Elias had bought for her (all in her size, all things she’d actually wear), and a nursery next door painted soft blue, with a white crib, a changing table, and a shelf full of children’s books.
“Mr. Voss had this done last week,” Marta said, smiling as she helped Emily settle Liam into the crib. “He picked out every book himself. Said he wanted to read to the baby every night.”
Emily’s throat felt tight. She’d never had anyone care about her this much. Not even her own parents.
That night, after Marta had gone home and Liam was asleep, Elias found her in the kitchen, leaning against the counter drinking a glass of water. He was wearing sweatpants and a faded white t-shirt, his hair messy, and for a second he didn’t look like a billionaire—he looked like a regular guy, tired but happy.
“Can’t sleep?” he asked, grabbing a beer from the fridge.
“Too much on my mind,” she admitted. “My parents. The company. Brandon. All of it.”
Elias nodded, leaning against the counter next to her. “I get it. But we have the upper hand right now. We have the evidence. We have the shares. Your parents are scrambling. That’s when people make mistakes.”
He paused, then pulled out his phone, scrolling through his emails. “I got a call from Brandon an hour ago. He wants to meet. Tomorrow morning, at the Carter Development headquarters. Says he wants to ‘negotiate a settlement.’”
Emily’s blood ran cold. “You can’t go. It’s a trap. Brandon doesn’t negotiate. He cheats. He’ll have you followed, or plant something on you, or—”
“Hey.” Elias put a hand on her arm, his touch warm and steady. “I’m not going alone. I’m bringing my head of security, two lawyers, and a forensic accountant. And the whole meeting will be recorded. He can’t do anything. And if he tries? We’ll use it against him.”
He tilted her chin up with his finger, so she was looking at him. “I promise you. Nothing is going to happen to me. Or to you. Or to Liam. Okay?”
Emily nodded, her heart racing. “Okay.”
The next morning, Elias left for the meeting at nine a.m. Emily paced the penthouse the whole time he was gone, checking her phone every two minutes, jumping every time the elevator dinged. Marta tried to get her to sit down, to eat something, but she couldn’t. She knew Brandon. She knew how his mind worked. He was ruthless, entitled, and stupid enough to think he could get away with anything.
At eleven thirty, the elevator doors opened. Elias walked in, followed by his team, his face unreadable.
Emily ran over to him. “How did it go? What did he say?”
Elias sighed, running a hand through his hair. “It went about as well as expected. Charles and Margaret were there too. All three of them tried to play nice at first—offered me a seat, poured me coffee, asked about the ‘family.’ Then they got to the point.”
He sat down on the couch, gesturing for her to join him. “They offered me $50M cash. In exchange, I drop the accounting investigation, convince you to sign over your twelve percent to Brandon, and we all walk away. No hard feelings.”
Emily’s mouth fell open. “Fifty million? That’s it? Their whole company is worth two billion, and they offered you fifty to look the other way while they steal from their own shareholders?”
“Yep.” Elias snorted. “They think I’m cheap. Or stupid. Probably both. Charles said, and I quote, ‘A boy from the South Side should be happy to take the money and run back to where he came from.’”
Emily’s face burned. “He said that to you?”
“Sure did.” Elias shrugged, but she could see the anger in his eyes. “It’s nothing I haven’t heard before. My mom was a single mom who worked three jobs to put me through college. I grew up in a two-bedroom apartment with no heat in the winter. People have been calling me trash my whole life because I didn’t grow up with a trust fund. It doesn’t bother me.”
He reached into his briefcase, pulling out a thin manila folder, and handed it to her. “But here’s the good part. Halfway through the meeting, Brandon lost his temper. I mentioned Northshore Holdings—the shell company he used to siphon the money—and he snapped. Started yelling, said I had no proof, that I was making it all up, that ‘no one would ever believe a street rat over a Carter.’ And then he said something stupid.”
Emily opened the folder. Inside was a transcript of the meeting, highlighted in yellow. She read the line Elias was pointing to: “Even if you did have the files, Emily took them when she left. Burn her apartment down, plant the evidence on her, say she was the one who stole the money. Who’s gonna believe a single mom with a bastard kid over me?”
Emily’s blood ran cold. She stared at the words, her hands shaking. “He said that? About me? About Liam?”
“Word for word.” Elias’s voice was ice. “The whole thing is on tape. Audio and video. That’s attempted conspiracy to commit arson and frame you for a felony. That’s ten years in federal prison right there, before we even get to the fraud charges.”
He paused, then leaned forward, his voice serious. “I gave them an ultimatum. Twenty-four hours. They have until noon tomorrow to release a public statement apologizing to you and Liam, dropping the share transfer demand, and stepping down from the board of Carter Development. If they don’t? I release the meeting tape to every news outlet in Chicago. Then I file the fraud lawsuit. Then I call the SEC. By the end of the week, their lives as they know them will be over.”
Emily stared at him. “You’d really do that? Release the tape? It’ll ruin them. Completely.”
Elias looked her dead in the eye. “Emily, they were ready to burn down your apartment. To put you in prison for a crime you didn’t commit. To take your son away from you so they could keep their money. They don’t get a pass because they share your DNA. They don’t get to be cruel and then walk away like nothing happened. They made their choice a long time ago. Now they have to live with it.”
He was right. She knew he was right. For thirty years, she’d let her parents walk all over her, make her feel small, make her feel like she wasn’t enough. She’d covered for Brandon, lied for her father, smiled through every insult at every family dinner because she’d thought that’s what daughters did. But not anymore. She had Liam now. She had Elias. She had something worth fighting for.
She closed the folder, setting it down on the coffee table, and nodded. “Do it. Give them the ultimatum. If they don’t apologize by noon tomorrow? Release the tape.”
Elias smiled, reaching out to squeeze her hand. “You got it.”
That night, Emily was up late, sitting in the nursery rocking Liam back to sleep after a feeding, when she heard a soft knock on the door. Elias was standing in the doorway, holding two mugs of hot chocolate.
“Couldn’t sleep either?” he asked, handing her one.
“Too much adrenaline,” she admitted, taking a sip. It was perfect—extra marshmallows, just how she liked it. “I keep thinking about what Brandon said. About burning my apartment. About framing me. I knew he was an asshole, but I didn’t think he’d ever go that far.”
Elias leaned against the crib, watching her rock the baby. “People like Brandon? They don’t see other people as real. They see them as obstacles. Or tools. You were an obstacle to him getting the company. So he was willing to get rid of you any way he could. But he’s not going to touch you. Ever. I made a promise to myself the second I found out about Liam that I was going to protect you two. And I always keep my promises.”
Emily looked up at him, the soft glow of the nursery light catching the silver streak in his hair, the curve of his smile, and for a second, she forgot how to breathe. In the nine months she’d spent alone, scared, preparing to raise a baby by herself, she’d never imagined she’d have someone like this in her corner. Someone who cared. Someone who would fight for her.
“Thank you,” she said, her voice quiet. “For everything. I don’t know what I would have done without you.”
Elias stepped forward, reaching out to brush a strand of hair off her face, his fingers lingering on her cheek. “You don’t have to thank me. This is my family too. Remember?”
Outside, the wind blew off the lake, rattling the windows slightly. Inside the nursery, it was warm, quiet, safe. For the first time in her life, Emily felt like she was exactly where she was supposed to be.
What she didn’t know was that twelve miles away, in the Carter mansion in Winnetka, Brandon Carter was slamming his fist against his father’s desk, his face red with rage.
“Twenty-four hours?” he screamed. “That son of a bitch thinks he can give us an ultimatum? I’m not apologizing to that whore. I’m not stepping down from anything. We’re not going down without a fight. If Voss wants a war? I’ll give him a war. And I’m starting with the one thing he cares about most.”
He pulled out his phone, scrolling through his contacts until he found the name he was looking for. Jax. A guy he’d met in college, who’d done “side jobs” for him over the years—intimidation, theft, things the Carter name couldn’t get him out of alone.
May you like
Brandon hit call.
“I need a favor,” he said when the guy answered. “And I’m willing to pay two hundred grand to get it done. All you have to do is get into Voss’s penthouse. Find a hard drive. And bring it to me. No questions asked. Can you do that?”
