London didn't calm down after Amaiyla showed up.
It sharpened.
The headlines didn't disappear—they evolved. Softer words. Cleaner phrasing. The kind of language that sounded reasonable while it quietly tried to dismantle her.
HOLLINGSWORTH HEIRESS "UNDER PRESSURE," SOURCES SAYREYES FOUNDATION SEEKS "STABILITY" AFTER PUBLIC DISRUPTIONINSIDERS: "PERSONAL MATTERS AFFECTING GOVERNANCE"
Amaiyla watched the clips without sound.
She didn't need the audio to hear what they were doing.
They weren't calling her wrong.
They were calling her unwell.
And that was worse, because "unwell" didn't require evidence.
Just repetition.
Xander stood at the far end of the living room, phone in hand, gaze fixed on the rain-streaked window like he could calculate the next betrayal by watching traffic patterns.
He hadn't slept.
Neither had she.
Tammy sat in a chair that didn't belong to her as if it had been built for her, tablet balanced on her knee, calm as ever. Only her eyes gave her away—moving constantly, tracking variables, mapping shifts.
Amaiyla finally broke the silence.
"They're building a story where I don't sound dangerous."
Tammy didn't look up. "Because a dangerous woman gets listened to."
Xander's jaw tightened. "And an unstable one gets managed."
Amaiyla nodded slowly. "So what do we do?"
Tammy's gaze lifted. "We stop letting them define the room."
Xander's tone was controlled. "They have the money, the legal teams, the media."
Tammy's smile was faint. "So we use the one thing they don't know how to fight."
Amaiyla frowned. "What?"
Tammy's eyes held hers. "A woman who refuses to behave predictably."
Xander's phone buzzed again. He glanced down, then went still.
Amaiyla felt it like a shift in pressure. "Who is it?"
Xander's voice was quiet. "Foundation board."
Tammy's expression didn't change. "Put it on speaker."
Xander hesitated.
Amaiyla stared at him. "Do it."
Xander tapped the screen.
A voice filled the room—smooth, professional, falsely warm.
"Mr. Reyes. Thank you for taking the call."
Xander's response was clipped. "Talk."
A pause. "There's been a development."
Tammy leaned forward slightly, like a predator listening.
The voice continued. "The board is requesting your presence for an emergency vote. Today."
Xander's jaw tightened. "I was suspended."
"Yes," the voice agreed. "But there are… concerns. Investors are jittery. Partners are asking whether your engagement situation is stable."
Amaiyla's stomach twisted at the phrasing.
Xander's eyes flicked to her—brief, warning.
The voice continued carefully. "For everyone's benefit, we'd like you to make a clarifying statement before the vote."
Xander's tone sharpened. "Or what?"
Another pause.
Then the voice said, "Or your position becomes permanently… restructured."
Tammy let out a soft laugh. Not amused. Appreciative.
"They're bluffing," Amaiyla whispered.
Xander's gaze hardened. "No. They're setting a condition."
Tammy murmured, "Say no. Let them show their teeth."
Xander's voice into the phone was calm. "I'm not making a statement."
The voice tightened. "Mr. Reyes—"
Xander cut in. "I'll attend the vote. That's it."
He ended the call.
Silence returned—heavier than before.
Amaiyla's heart hammered. "That was Harold."
Xander nodded once. "By proxy."
Tammy stood. "Good. Now we know the timeline."
Amaiyla's throat felt tight. "What timeline?"
Tammy's eyes sharpened. "They're trying to lock Xander out permanently today. Which means John will strike while everyone is looking at Harold's house."
Amaiyla's stomach dropped. "Strike how?"
Tammy's gaze slid to her phone—still on the coffee table, still a liability.
"Through you," Tammy said. "Or through Connor."
At the mention of his name, Amaiyla flinched.
Xander's voice was low. "He already contacted her."
Tammy nodded. "Which means he's already being monitored harder than before."
Amaiyla's pulse spiked. "Connor said he found a pattern."
Tammy's expression softened by a fraction—not kindness, calculation.
"And you didn't ask what it was," Tammy said.
Amaiyla swallowed. "He said he needed time."
Tammy's voice dropped. "Time is what men like John buy with threats."
Amaiyla's fingers curled into her palm. "Stop talking about my father like he's a monster."
Tammy held her gaze. "I talk about your father like a man with leverage he refuses to lose."
The truth sat between them like a sharp object.
Xander stepped closer to Amaiyla, voice quieter now. "You did well at the luncheon."
Amaiyla's laugh was brittle. "It felt like walking into a room where everyone had already decided how the story ends."
Xander's gaze tightened. "Then we change the ending."
Tammy reached into her bag and pulled out a small phone. Plain. Unmarked.
She placed it gently on the table in front of Amaiyla.
Amaiyla stared. "What is that?"
Tammy's tone was matter-of-fact. "A way to speak without being overheard."
Xander's eyes narrowed slightly. "Where did you get it?"
Tammy glanced at him. "From someone who's also tired of Harold's favorite hobby."
Amaiyla frowned. "Control?"
Tammy's smile sharpened. "Ownership."
Amaiyla's fingers hovered over the phone but didn't touch it. "So now I'm carrying a secret phone like I'm living in some spy movie?"
Tammy leaned in. "You are."
Amaiyla's throat tightened. "This is insane."
Xander's voice was calm. "This is accurate."
Amaiyla picked up the phone slowly, like it might bite. "Who's on it?"
Tammy answered, "Me. A lawyer. And a secure line that only works one way."
Amaiyla blinked. "One way?"
Tammy's eyes held hers. "So you can send a message if you're taken."
Amaiyla went still.
Xander's posture shifted—protective instinct tightening.
"Taken?" Amaiyla whispered.
Tammy's tone remained steady. "John already tried to call you 'stressed' in public. Next he'll try 'unfit.' Next he'll try 'temporarily relocated for your wellbeing.'"
Amaiyla's blood ran cold.
Xander said quietly, "He won't touch her physically."
Tammy replied instantly, "He doesn't have to. He can touch her life."
Amaiyla stared at the phone. "So what do I do?"
Tammy's voice softened, just slightly. "You prepare for the moment they stop pretending."
Amaiyla's eyes burned. "I already prepared. I went public."
Tammy nodded. "Good. Now you go strategic."
Xander stepped closer. "What are you asking her to do?"
Tammy looked at Amaiyla, not Xander.
"I'm asking you," Tammy said, "to choose a line you won't cross."
Amaiyla frowned. "I've crossed plenty."
"No," Tammy corrected. "You've reacted plenty. I'm asking for a boundary."
Amaiyla swallowed. "Like what?"
Tammy's eyes sharpened. "Like this: if John threatens Connor again, you don't beg. You don't bargain. You document and you counter."
Amaiyla's chest tightened. "How?"
Tammy's voice turned low. "By setting a trap that forces him to behave in the open."
Xander's gaze narrowed. "That's dangerous."
Tammy's smile was thin. "So is being passive."
Amaiyla's phone buzzed—her regular phone.
She glanced down.
UNKNOWN NUMBERYou're being moved.
Her stomach dropped so hard she almost felt sick.
Xander saw her face change. "What?"
Amaiyla turned the screen toward them with trembling fingers.
Tammy's eyes narrowed. "That's not random."
Xander's jaw tightened. "That's a warning."
Amaiyla's voice shook. "From who?"
Tammy exhaled slowly. "Someone inside the machine."
Before any of them could speak again, another message appeared.
UNKNOWN NUMBERBoard vote at 2. John meets counsel at 2:15. You'll be 'protected' at 3.
Amaiyla's blood turned to ice.
Xander's voice dropped. "Three."
Tammy's gaze snapped up. "They're giving a timetable."
Amaiyla's hands trembled. "Protected… how?"
Tammy's voice was calm but urgent. "This is exactly what I meant."
Xander looked at Tammy. "Who is feeding you this?"
Tammy's eyes stayed on Amaiyla. "Not me."
Amaiyla swallowed. "So someone is watching us… and helping?"
Tammy nodded once. "Or baiting you."
Xander's voice turned sharp. "We are not waiting here."
Amaiyla's pulse spiked. "Where do we go?"
Xander's answer came immediately. "Somewhere John can't control the doors."
Tammy spoke at the same time. "Somewhere public."
Amaiyla's stomach twisted. "The Foundation again?"
Xander's gaze hardened. "No."
He looked at Amaiyla, and his voice dropped into something that felt personal.
"Somewhere that belongs to you."
Amaiyla blinked. "I don't have anywhere that belongs to me."
Tammy's expression sharpened. "Then we create it."
Xander grabbed his coat.
Amaiyla stood too, heart hammering. "Wait—what's the plan?"
Xander's eyes locked on hers. "You're going to make another public move."
Amaiyla's breath caught. "I already did."
Xander's voice lowered. "Not like this."
Tammy stepped closer, calm as a blade. "We need to force John to choose."
Amaiyla frowned. "Choose what?"
Tammy said quietly, "Between controlling you… and protecting his own reputation."
Xander's jaw tightened. "If he can't do both, he'll hesitate."
Amaiyla swallowed. "And if he doesn't hesitate?"
Tammy's gaze held hers. "Then we'll know he's willing to burn you."
The words hit like a physical blow.
Amaiyla's voice shook. "He's my father."
Tammy's expression didn't soften. "That doesn't make him safe."
Silence snapped tight.
Then Xander said, quiet but steady, "Look at me."
Amaiyla did.
Xander's eyes were dark, controlled—yet something in them had shifted since yesterday. Like the mask had slipped just enough to reveal the cost underneath.
"I don't know how this ends," he said. "But I know this: you are not going to be moved like luggage."
Amaiyla's throat tightened. "Xander—"
He cut her off gently. "You chose visibility. Now you choose position."
Tammy opened the door.
Amaiyla took one step, then stopped.
"What about Connor?" she whispered, fear cutting through her voice.
Xander's face tightened. "Connor is already moving."
Tammy's eyes narrowed. "And Connor will do something soon that he'll justify as love."
Amaiyla's stomach twisted. "You don't know that."
Tammy looked at her calmly. "I know men under pressure."
Amaiyla's chest tightened, but she forced herself forward.
They stepped into the car. The door shut. The city blurred past.
Amaiyla's phone vibrated again—this time, a call.
A number she knew.
Connor.
She stared at it, pulse racing.
Xander's gaze flicked to the screen. His jaw tightened, but he didn't speak.
Tammy watched Amaiyla closely.
Amaiyla answered.
"Connor?"
His voice came through low and strained. "Amaiyla. Listen to me—don't go home."
Amaiyla's blood turned to ice. "I'm not."
Connor exhaled hard. "They're about to do something."
Amaiyla's throat tightened. "I know."
Connor's voice sharpened. "No—you don't. It's bigger than the headlines. Bigger than Harold. Bigger than the engagement."
Amaiyla's breath shook. "What did you find?"
A pause.
Then Connor said, very quietly, "Not proof yet. But I found where to dig."
Amaiyla's chest tightened. "Connor—"
He interrupted, voice rough. "If I'm right, your father doesn't just control you. He controls your future because he's hiding something that could destroy him."
Amaiyla's heart slammed. "What is it?"
Connor exhaled slowly. "Later. Not on this line."
Tammy's eyes narrowed at that.
Xander's expression went still—calculating.
Connor's voice dropped even lower. "Amaiyla… if you stay with Xander, you're standing too close to the blast."
Amaiyla's throat tightened. "Then where am I supposed to stand?"
Connor's voice broke just slightly. "With me."
Silence swallowed the car.
Amaiyla didn't answer.
Connor whispered, "Please."
Amaiyla stared out the window, rain-smudged streets blurring into gray.
Xander said nothing.
Tammy said nothing.
Amaiyla finally spoke, voice quiet and steady.
"I can't make promises right now, Connor."
A pause.
Then Connor's voice hardened—not cruel, but changed. "Fine."
And the line went dead.
Amaiyla's hands trembled.
Tammy's voice cut through the silence, calm but sharp. "Now he's going to act."
Amaiyla whispered, "He's scared."
Tammy replied, "So are you. The difference is: he's choosing control."
Xander's voice was low. "We're here."
The car stopped.
Amaiyla looked up—and her stomach dropped.
They weren't at the Foundation.
They were at the courthouse.
A place made of stone and cameras and law.
A place that didn't care how rich your father was, as long as you had a filing number.
Tammy opened the door first. "Welcome to the only building John can't buy quickly enough."
Amaiyla's pulse hammered. "What are we doing here?"
Xander stepped out beside her, rain catching in his hair, gaze hard.
"We're making your safety official," he said.
Tammy's smile was thin. "And we're making John Hollingsworth panic in public."
Amaiyla swallowed hard.
Because she understood now.
This wasn't just fallout.
This was the counterstrike.
And the moment she walked up those steps, the story would stop being about whether she was "stressed" or "confused."
It would become about something far more dangerous.
Whether her father was a criminal.
Whether Harold was complicit.
And whether love—any of it—was worth what came next.
Amaiyla stepped forward into the rain.
And for the first time, she didn't feel like a pawn.
She felt like the match.