Chapter 10 - The Iron WallWhen a predator threatens your family, you do not lock the doors and hope the storm passes. You step out onto the porch and you become the storm.
Within forty-eight hours, the quiet, coastal peace of Amy’s life was temporarily suspended. The media frenzy had ignited. Paparazzi were spotted lingering near the edge of the Oregon town, trying to get telephoto shots of the bookstore.
But they found nothing. Amy had temporarily closed the shop, boarded a private jet provided by Daniel, and flown directly into the lion’s den: Manhattan.
They secured a private floor at the Plaza Hotel. The suite became a militarized war room.
Liam was entirely out of his element in the ultra-wealthy epicenter of New York, but he refused to flinch. He sat at the glass dining table, reviewing the legal statutes with Daniel’s elite attorneys, offering a grounded, unshakable presence. Eliana was in the adjoining suite, happily coloring with a private nanny, entirely unaware of the chaos outside.
Daniel was pacing the length of the room, a phone pressed to his ear, his voice a lethal whip as he threatened board members and media executives to pull the story.
Amy sat on the velvet sofa, holding a cup of tea, watching the two men she loved—in entirely different ways—fight to protect her.
"The Morning Chronicle just offered Vanessa a live, hour-long interview for tomorrow," Daniel snapped, ending the call and throwing his phone onto the table. He ran a hand through his hair, the polished CEO completely unraveling. "She is going to sit on national television and call you an extortionist. My lawyers say we can't block the broadcast."
"Let her," Amy said calmly, taking a sip of her tea.
Daniel stopped pacing. "Amy, you don't understand the damage this will do. They will twist everything. They will send investigators into Liam’s architectural firm. They will claim your bookstore is a money-laundering front for your alimony."
"I don't have alimony," Amy reminded him softly. "I refused it, remember? I only took child support, which is strictly monitored by the courts, and the deed to my own building. That is public record."
"The public doesn't care about records! They care about the scandal!" Daniel shouted, the panic of losing his daughter's safety clawing at his throat.
Liam stood up, his chair scraping violently against the floor. He walked right up to Daniel, closing the distance between them. The billionaire and the architect stood eye to eye, the tension in the room spiking to a suffocating level.
"Lower your voice," Liam commanded, his tone completely devoid of fear. "You are not in a boardroom, Daniel. You are speaking to my fiancée. She said she has a plan. So you are going to sit down, and you are going to listen to her."
For a fraction of a second, Daniel’s ego flared. He was a titan of industry; no one spoke to him like that. But then he looked at Liam’s eyes. He didn't see a rival. He saw a man who was willing to die to protect Amy's peace.
Daniel swallowed hard, the fight draining out of him. He nodded slowly, taking a step back. "You're right. I apologize."
Amy watched the exchange with a profound sense of awe. She stood up, smoothing the skirt of her dress.
"Vanessa’s entire brand is built on this narrative of her being a high-society victim," Amy explained, walking over to the table. "She is hosting a massive charity gala tomorrow night at the Met to launch her book. She invited the entire New York elite, the press, and the board members of Daniel’s company to humiliate us publicly."
"I've already blacklisted the event," Daniel said grimly. "No one from my firm is attending."
"Un-blacklist it," Amy commanded.
Daniel blinked. "What?"
"You are going to that gala, Daniel," Amy said, her eyes flashing with a brilliant, dangerous light. "And Liam and I are coming with you. We are not hiding in a hotel suite like guilty fugitives. We are going to walk through the front doors, into the flashing cameras, and we are going to let New York see exactly who we are."
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"Amy," Liam said softly, stepping closer to her. "Are you sure? It will be a firing squad."
"Let them fire," Amy smiled, reaching out to lace her fingers through Liam’s. "They think they are dealing with the girl who used to cry in the corner. It’s time to introduce them to the architect."
