Page 175 of My Big, Fat, Hot Billionaire Enemy
MyCEO.
This whole damn project… an intricate blueprint for mutual growth... sustainable value creation... preserving history while innovating for the future.
These are all concepts the old me would have dismissed as sentimental bullshit. Concepts directly influenced, no,driven, by her unwavering belief in doing things differently. Doing thingsbetter.
And fuck me if she wasn’t right.
There’s a deeper satisfaction in building this, together, than I ever found in destruction.
She concludes her presentation, fielding a few more questions with the same calm competence.
Even Sarah Chan, usually the first to poke holes in any plan deviating from aggressive profit maximization, gives a small, almost imperceptible nod of approval.
As the meeting breaks up and people begin filing out, gathering briefcases and murmuring amongst themselves, I fall into step beside Lucy as we walk towards the elevators. I maintain a professional distance, aware of lingering eyes, but close enough to speak quietly.
“You handled Chen perfectly,” I murmur, referencing the pointed question about her projections. “Didn’t give him an inch.”
A small, pleased smile touches her lips. “Learning from the master strategist, maybe?” Her eyes sparkling briefly with humor before regaining professional composure as we near the elevator bank.
“Tonight, then?” I ask quietly, confirming our dinner plans as the elevator arrives, its doors sliding open.
“Tonight,” she confirms with a decisive nod, stepping inside. Her gaze meets mine for a charged second before the doors close, separating usagain.
Good.
Anticipation, sharp and welcome, cuts through the lingering boardroom tension.
I turn back towards the conference room, the low hum of post-meeting chatter filling the corridor.
Tatiana immediately approaches my side, tablet in hand, her expression perfectly neutral.
“Ms. Hammond’s presentation was exceptionally well-received, sir,” she reports, falling into step beside me. “Initial board feedback on the integrated strategy is positive.”
“As it should be,” I reply curtly, though internally, the sense of accomplishment feels different this time. Not just a win for Blackwell Innovations, but a win for thepartnership. For the future we’re building. “Ensure Ms. Hammond’s team has full access to the allocated cloud resources by end of day.”
“Of course, Mr. Blackwell.”
With Project Nightingale solidified, the partnership launched, my father neutralized, and Lucy firmly establishing her leadership… an unfamiliar quiet descends inside me.
Leaving space for other considerations. Other ghosts…
My mother.
The thought has been lurking, pushed aside by decades of resentment and the force of my father’s narrative.
Weakness.
Abandonment.
But Lucy… her fierce loyalty to her own flawed father, her capacity for forgiveness, her belief in connection… it chips away at the old walls.
Maybe it’s time.
Not for forgiveness, necessarily.
Maybe just… understanding.
Closure, of a sort.
