Page 45 of Forbidden Daddy
"I see," I said, straightening slowly. "And what do you suggest?"
Declan cleared his throat. "Temporarily step back from operational control. Let Connor or myself handle day-to-day decisions until we resolve the security breach. It would show the family that you’re taking the threat seriously."
"And it would show weakness," I countered. "The moment I step aside, every rival family in the city will see it as an opportunity to move against us."
"Better than getting killed because you’re too distracted to see threats coming," Sean said.
The silence that followed was deafening. I looked around the table at men who’d sworn loyalty to me, to the Creed name, to everything my father had built. And now they were questioning my fitness to lead.
"Anyone else share Sean’s assessment?" I asked.
More nods. Too many nods.
"I see." I straightened my cufflinks, a gesture my father had taught me—always maintain dignity, especially when surrounded by wolves. "Here’s what’s going to happen instead."
I walked to the window, gathering my thoughts while rage burned in my chest. These men thought I’d gone soft because I’d found something worth protecting beyond the business. They thought love was a weakness.
They were about to learn differently.
"We implement a compartmentalization protocol," I said, turning back to face them. "No one person has access to complete operational information. Every major decision gets divided into segments, distributed among different teams."
"That’s going to slow everything down," Fion observed.
"It’s going to keep us alive." I met each pair of eyes. "We’re also implementing random polygraph testing. Everyone in this room, including myself."
The objections started.
"That’s excessive?—"
"We’ve never needed?—"
"—questioning our loyalty after everything we’ve?—"
"ENOUGH." The word cracked like a whip, silencing the room instantly. "This is not a democracy. This is not a negotiation. This is me telling you how things are going to be."
I leaned forward, hands flat on the table. "Someone in this organization is trying to get me killed. Someone sitting in rooms like this, sharing meals at my table, collecting paychecks signed with my name. Until I know who, everyone is a suspect."
"Including your fiancée?" Declan asked, his tone carefully neutral.
"Including everyone." The lie came easily, but it was necessary. I couldn’t show favoritism, couldn’t reveal that Cassie had already become more important to me than the business itself. "No exceptions."
But Sean wasn’t backing down. "What about when the families start asking questions? When they see you implementing police-state tactics on your own men?"
"Let them ask." I straightened, every inch the dangerous man my father had raised me to be. "Anyone who has a problem with my methods can take it up with me directly."
The threat was implicit but clear. Challenge my authority, and face the consequences.
"Meeting adjourned," I said. "Implement the new protocols immediately. And gentlemen? If I find out any of you have been discussing family business outside this room, the next conversation we have will be much shorter."
They filed out in tense silence, leaving me alone with my doubts and growing certainty that the betrayal ran deeper than I’d imagined. Because the mole wasn’t just selling information—they were systematically undermining my authority, turning my own men against me.
And they were succeeding.
I loosened my tie and headed for the gym. Physical exertion was the only thing that helped when the weight of leadership became too heavy to carry. The basement workout room was one of thefew places in the house where I could let the mask slip, where I didn’t have to be the untouchable Roman Creed.
The heavy bag absorbed the impact of my fists with satisfying thuds. Ignoring the pain in my shoulder, I let each punch carry the frustration of the last few weeks—the security breaches, the questioning of my authority, the growing certainty that someone I trusted was working to destroy everything I’d built.
Sweat burned my eyes as I worked through combinations my father had taught me. Jab, cross, hook, uppercut. The rhythm was meditative, almost hypnotic, allowing my mind to process the evening’s revelations.
