Kalina reached over and squeezed her sister's hand briefly. "That's what sisters do. Well," she amended with a slight smile, "I'm just trying to make up for years of being the family's invisible slacker."
"You were never a slacker," Ophelia said firmly. "You're the smartest person I know. You just chose to hide it."
"Past tense," Kalina noted. "I'm about to stop hiding quite a few things."
"Is that scary?" Ophelia asked. "Coming out of the shadows?"
Kalina considered this thoughtfully. "It's... necessary. I've built something I'm proud of, even if I did it to avoid the family business. At some point, hiding it becomes more trouble than it's worth. Plus," she added with a pragmatic shrug, "strategic revelation can be its own form of power."
"See? Terrifying," Ophelia repeated, but she was smiling.
They arrived at the towering glass building that housed the Levesque family's main offices. Kalina groaned softly at the sight of it, already dreading the hours of meetings ahead.
"You look like you're walking to your execution," Ophelia observed as she pulled up to the entrance.
"That's because I am," Kalina replied dramatically. "Death by PowerPoint presentations and budget reports. If I don't make it out alive, tell Mother I loved her but hated her ceramic workshops."
"You'll survive," Ophelia said with a grin. "And I'll see you tonight at Logan's. What time should I come?"
"Come whenever," Kalina said, gathering her bag. "I'll probably arrive around nine or ten, depending on when these meetings finally end. Fair warning though—I will likely be non-functional. My contribution to the sleepover will be occasional mumbling and possibly snoring."
"As long as Logan and Mireille can tell me about Maxi, I'm good," Ophelia said happily. "Oh, and Kali? Good luck with your meetings."
"I don't need luck. I need a miracle," Kalina muttered, but she was smiling as she exited the car. "Drive safe, Lia. And try not to stress too much about tomorrow. Everything's going to work out perfectly."
"Says the person who planned a massive gala in two weeks without telling me," Ophelia called after her, but there was no real accusation in her tone.
Kalina waved without turning around, already mentally preparing herself for the tedium ahead. She pulled out her phone as she walked through the building's lobby, sending a quick message to Logan: On schedule. Should be at yours by 10. Please have coffee ready. Strong coffee. Possibly intravenous.
Logan's response came almost immediately: That bad?
That bad. Also, Ophelia is coming to the sleepover. She'll want all the Maxi stories. You and Mireille are on storytelling duty. I'll be the decorative throw pillow on your couch.
Already figured. Mireille's been texting me Maxi anecdotes for the past hour. She's fully prepared to share embarrassing stories.
Perfect. See you tonight.
Kalina pocketed her phone as she approached the elevator bank. Mr. Pray, the chairman P.A who somehow always seemed to be wherever he was needed, appeared beside her with impeccable timing.
"Good afternoon, Miss Kalina," he said with his usual dignified courtesy. "Your father is expecting you in the executive conference room. He's currently in a meeting with the board, but they should conclude in approximately fifteen minutes."
"Wonderful," Kalina said without enthusiasm. "Just enough time for me to contemplate all my life choices."
"Shall I bring you tea while you wait?" Mr. Pray offered, a hint of understanding in his formal tone.
"You're a saint, Mr. Pray. Yes, please. The strong kind."
As she rode the elevator up to the executive floors, Kalina allowed herself a moment of exhaustion. The past few weeks had been a carefully orchestrated performance—managing the Ophelia situation, handling her own companies, preparing for the confrontation with her father, organizing tomorrow's event. She was good at juggling multiple high-stakes situations, but that didn't mean it didn't take a toll.
The elevator doors opened onto the sleek, modern executive floor. Floor-to-ceiling windows offered a panoramic view of the city, and the décor was all clean lines and expensive minimalism—her father's aesthetic. Several employees nodded respectfully as she passed, though she could see the curiosity in their eyes. Kalina Levesque rarely made appearances at the family company's headquarters. Her presence here meant something significant was happening.
She made her way to a smaller conference room adjacent to where her father's board meeting was taking place. Through the glass walls, she could see him at the head of a large table, surrounded by serious-looking executives in suits. He was gesturing as he spoke, clearly in command of the room. Whatever was being discussed, he was winning the argument.
Kalina settled into a chair in the waiting room, accepting the tea that Mr. Pray appeared with moments later. As she sipped the perfectly brewed beverage, she pulled out her tablet and began reviewing the proposal documents she and Logan had worked on previous night. The framework was solid—she would offer to work with the family company in an advisory capacity, providing strategic business consulting without taking an official position. In exchange, she wanted creative freedom and the ability to maintain her other business interests.
What her father didn't know yet was that those "other business interests" included two successful companies that were currently in talks to merge with Regal Empire.
Soon, very soon, the truth would come out.
Kalina was adding some final notes when the door to the board room opened and people began filing out. Her father appeared, deep in conversation with two board members. When he spotted her, he excused himself and approached.
"Kalina," he said, surprise evident in his tone. "You're early."
"You said three o'clock," she replied, glancing at her watch. "It's three ten."
"So it is," he acknowledged. "Come, let's talk in my office."
She followed him down the hallway to his corner office—even larger than the conference room, with that same commanding view of the city. He settled behind his massive desk, and she took one of the chairs opposite, the tablet containing her proposal resting on her lap.
"I've been thinking about our conversation," her father began without preamble. "About your role in this company. I'll be direct, Kalina—I need your mind working for this family's interests. Lyra has done exceptional work, but she can't do it alone. We're at a critical juncture, and I need all my resources deployed effectively."
"I've prepared something for you," Kalina said, activating her tablet and turning it to face him. "A proposal that I think addresses both our needs."
He raised an eyebrow, intrigued despite himself. "Go on."
What followed was nearly two hours of intense discussion. Kalina walked him through her proposal—strategic consulting, flexible hours, no official title that would tie her to the company publicly. She emphasized that this arrangement would allow her to contribute her skills without the bureaucratic constraints of a formal position.
Her father pushed back, naturally. He wanted commitment, wanted her name on the letterhead, wanted her bound to the family business in a traditional way. But Kalina held firm, countering each of his arguments with logical reasoning. She'd learned from the best, after all—from him.
By the time five-thirty rolled around, they'd reached a tentative agreement. She would provide strategic consulting for six months, at which point they'd reassess the arrangement. It wasn't everything he wanted, but it was more than he'd had from her before.
"I'm surprised," he admitted as they wrapped up. "I expected more resistance from you."
"I'm full of surprises," Kalina replied, carefully saving the updated agreement on her tablet.
"Indeed." He studied her thoughtfully. "There's something different about you lately. More... engaged."
"Maybe I'm finally growing up," she suggested lightly.
"Or maybe you've been up to something, and I'm just now seeing the results," he said, though his tone wasn't accusatory—more curious.
"Can't it be both?" she offered with a slight smile.
He chuckled, a rare sound. "Get out of here, Kalina. I'll have legal draft this up formally. We'll sign next week."
"Thank you, Father," she said, standing. "I won't disappoint you."
"I know you won't," he replied, surprising her with the certainty in his voice. "You're more capable than you pretend to be. I've always known that."
Kalina paused at the door, looking back at him. "Then why push me into the company if you knew I wasn't interested?"
"Because," he said, his expression softening almost imperceptibly, "talent unused is talent wasted. And I've watched you waste yours for too long, hiding behind this facade of laziness. Whatever you've been doing in secret, whatever made you finally stop hiding—I'm glad for it."
She didn't know what to say to that, so she simply nodded and left.
The next hour was filled with additional meetings—budget reviews, project updates, strategic planning sessions. By seven o'clock, Kalina felt like her brain had been wrung out and left to dry. She'd contributed meaningfully to each discussion, proving to herself and others that she could handle this level of business complexity, but the effort was exhausting.
When the last meeting finally ended, she practically stumbled to the elevator. She sent a quick text to Ophelia: Survived. Barely. On my way to Logan's. Might actually be dead. Hard to tell.
Ophelia's response: You're not dead. Dead people don't text. See you soon! I'm already here with Mireille. We're making bets on what time you'll arrive and how conscious you'll be.
Tell Mireille she's mean and I'm taking back her Christmas present.
She says she doesn't believe you have her Christmas present yet.
She's right. But I would have. Eventually.
Kalina ordered a car service rather than attempting to drive in her current state. During the twenty-minute ride to Logan's apartment, she let her head rest against the window, watching the city lights blur past.
Tomorrow would be the gala. The day after, the full merger proposal with Lyra. Next week, the formal agreement with her father.
Right now, all she wanted was Logan's comfortable couch and to be unconscious for the next few hours.
She arrived at Logan's building at exactly 10:03 PM, dragging herself through the lobby and into the elevator with the last reserves of her energy. When she reached Logan's door, she didn't even bother knocking—just used the code he'd given her and stumbled inside.
The scene that greeted her was cozy chaos. Logan's apartment smelled amazing—garlic, herbs, something savory and rich cooking on the stove. Mireille was in the kitchen, her sleeves rolled up as she stirred a large pot, while Logan set out plates on the dining table. Ophelia sat on one of the bar stools, already changed into comfortable clothes, gesticulating excitedly as she spoke.
All three looked up when Kalina entered.
"She lives!" Mireille announced dramatically.
"Barely," Kalina mumbled, dropping her bag by the door and making a beeline for the couch. She collapsed onto it face-first with a long, suffering groan.
"That good, huh?" Logan said sympathetically, leaving the table to kneel beside the couch. "Did you eat dinner?"
"Food is for people with consciousness," came Kalina's muffled response from the cushions.
"That's not an answer," Logan said, gently pulling her into a sitting position despite her protests. "Come on, Mireille made her famous pasta. You need to eat before you pass out."
"Pass out first, eat later," Kalina argued weakly, but she let him guide her to the table.
Ophelia was watching with poorly concealed amusement. "You really do look dead."
"Thanks, Lia. That's exactly what I wanted to hear," Kalina said, accepting the plate Logan placed in front of her. The smell of the food actually did help wake her up slightly. "Did you call Mother? Let her know you're sleeping here tonight?"
"Called her from the car," Ophelia confirmed.
"Told her we were having a sisters' night. She was thrilled. Asked if you were finally going to teach me your 'secret business skills.'"
"Mother knows about my secret business skills?" Kalina raised an eyebrow.
"Mother suspects," Ophelia corrected. "She's not stupid. She knows something's going on with you."
"Something's going on with all of us," Mireille chimed in, bringing the pot over to serve everyone generous portions. "We're all secretly brilliant. It's exhausting."
"Speaking of exhausting," Ophelia said, turning to Logan and Mireille with barely contained excitement, "Kali said you would tell me about Maxi. From university. All the stories."