Chapter 300

“Where are you?” Dallas’s voice was gruff. “The sensors show you left the building.”

“I’m having tea with your mother,” Eliza said, settling into the waiting town car.

“My mother?” Dallas sounded genuinely horrified. “Are you okay? Do you need a rescue team?”

“I’m fine,” Eliza said, with a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “We were just discussing strategy.”

“Strategy for what?”

“For war,” Eliza said.

Night had fallen over the city. The penthouse was dim, lit only by the glow of city lights filtering through the floor-to-ceiling windows.

Dallas was in his wheelchair by the glass, staring out at the skyline. He had tried to transfer himself to the sofa and a spasm from his broken ribs had nearly made him black out. The effort had left him sweating and furious.

Eliza walked in, kicking off her heels. She sat at the far end of the sofa, a careful distance away, and placed a glass of water on the coffee table within his reach.

“You’re pushing too hard,” she said softly.

“I feel useless,” Dallas grunted, wiping his face with the back of his hand.

“You’re healing,” Eliza said, her voice flat. She wouldn’t let him see how much his coldness wounded her. She would be professional — a partner in crisis, if nothing else. “Jeannine wants me to go to the Gala,” she said, changing the subject. “To block Cathey.”

Dallas stiffened. His reaction wasn’t concern for her — it was cold and strategic. “It’s a shark tank. Anson will be there.”

“Anson won’t touch me,” Eliza said. “Not with a hundred cameras in the room. And your mother is right — if we don’t show up, Ferd wins. He legitimizes Cathey.”

Dallas sighed. He knew she was right. It was the logical move. But he didn’t want her there — not as his protector, not as his wife.

“Dosha is looking for ammunition,” Dallas said, his voice dropping low. “Jeannine told you about the mental fitness challenge?”

“She did,” Eliza said. “She said they want to prove you’re unfit.”

“They want my medical records,” Dallas said. “Specifically, the psych evaluations from after the war. And the ones from after I met you. When I was obsessed.”

Eliza’s hands stilled. “Are they bad?”

“They’re honest,” Dallas said. “They document violence. Obsession. PTSD. If the board sees them, they’ll call me a liability.”

“Where are they?” Eliza asked.

“Vance has them,” Dallas said. “In a physical safe in his office. Not on any server. He’s the only one with the key.”

“Then they’re safe,” Eliza said. “Vance is loyal.”

Dallas didn’t answer immediately. He stared at his own reflection in the dark glass.

“Vance is complicated,” he said. “He likes chaos. And he has expensive tastes. But yes — for now, he’s loyal to me.”

“Usually?”

“Everyone has a price, Eliza,” Dallas said, his voice darkening. “Or a pressure point. Anson is very good at finding pressure points.”

A long, uncomfortable silence settled between them.