“Surprise.”

Anthony nodded at me. “Sarah, good to see you.”

He didn’t add the word finally, but I knew it was there, hidden. Anthony dressed in a fine suit, but I never believed the pretention. His dark hair was long, pulled into a sleek ponytail. A little dangerous, a lot of trouble. He might have been handsome if he weren’t constantly criticizing my every decision.

“Sarah Atwood, I hadn’t expected to see you at a Bennett function.”

Bryant Maddox toasted me, but his eyes fixed on Nicholas. I debated not answering. Bryant attended Darius like the sycophantic waste of skin. He’d voted to breed me and kill me, and he had yet to answer for his crimes. He leered, but in hatred, not perverted excitement.

He didn’t know about the baby.

That was good. None of the Bennett board knew. The secret existed within our twisted family. Darius meant to use the truth against me, like it forged some sick bond between us.

It’d be over soon.

I greeted them with charm, bright and wholesome, just as Mom taught would best benefit Dad during his meetings and functions. I played the part of the hostess well, but I adopted my role as head of the Atwood family with greater enthusiasm.

“I knew this was the perfect opportunity to bring everyone together.” I said. A light waltz strummed from the nearby quartet. I preferred drums of war, but I wasn’t picky about my music. “This might be a first, Atwoods and Bennetts, all working toward a common goal.”

I raised my glass and greeted the Atwood board members who hesitantly joined our conversation. I hadn’t met with them personally for so long, but a pretty smile and pat to their arm forgave most indiscretions. Sam, Paul, and Devon were family friends and longtime investors, but Dad was careful to ensure they represented less than a quarter of our financial interests. Meeting with them was polite, but not required.

“I think we have much to discuss,” I said.

Nicholas and Max edged close, taking the offered champagne from the passing server. Reed presented Darius with the tumbler of whiskey though no words passed between the father and son. Any of his sons.

Darius no longer thought of them as family. He looked to me to fill that void.

And I watched only the glass in his hand for the moment that our ties would be severed.

Bryant sneered, unsuccessfully hiding his disgust. “Ms. Atwood, we should really discuss things in the proper setting. A board room, perhaps. It’s been so long since you last visited the Bennett Headquarters.”

My skin prickled. Bastard. “Oh, you know how the days slip away. Owning one company, managing another. It’s all quite time consuming. My father taught me to prioritize certain aspects of the business. I’m still learning which are most important.”

“Some would say Mark Atwood prioritized the wrong things,” Bryant said. “The wrong people maybe?”

They wouldn’t rattle me with talk of my father’s arrogance, or how he left his company to his sons. Those wounds scarred over long ago.

“Perhaps. My father had plans for me beyond the farm. But I know exactly where I belong in Atwood Industries now. I can blend what my father wished for me with what he designed for our farm.”

Bryant raised an eyebrow. “And what’s that?”

Not yet.

But soon.

“Just a few projects. Something near and dear to my heart.” I touched Nicholas’s elbow. Beneath the suit, his every muscle tensed. “My step-brother has even offered his support. We have such great plans for both companies.”

Darius hadn’t sipped from his whiskey yet.

“Sounds promising,” Anthony said. He didn’t believe me. “Unlikely, but promising.”

The tumbler dripped condensation over Darius’s hands. His gnarled fingers clenched the glass. His grip was strong enough to break it.

Strong enough to choke off the airflow to a delicate neck.

“These kids have it easy.” Devon, Dad’s longtime golfing partner laughed. “Back in our day it was ruthless. Times change. Profits change.”

I nodded, but I stared only at the whiskey.

I waited for him to take the sip.

Just one taste.

And then it’d be done.

And I could breathe.

And we’d be safe.

Just a drink.

Take a sip.

“I do love hearing of joint Bennett/Atwood projects,” Darius grinned. “Far easier to produce than I thought they’d be.”

I didn’t let Nicholas answer. I held Darius’s foul gaze and accepted the chills that ached every invisible bruise he left.

“And more lucrative than my family ever dreamed,” I said. Drink it. “For years, this endless battle between the companies has caused so many problems. It’s only hurt us.”

Darius agreed. “Some more than others.”

“Bent, but not broken, I assure you.”

Anthony adjusted his suit but remained silent. I recognized his acquiescence—a surrender that I would not have earned had Atwood Industries not paid him generously for his services. In no uncertain terms, Anthony hated my plan to crush the Bennett Empire.

Not because it wouldn’t work.

But because he thought it was exactly the path Dad would have chosen.

“I’m sure Sarah will lead us to success,” Anthony said. “She’s always been the most resourceful Atwood.”

I took it as a compliment. So did Devon.

“It takes time to mend these fences,” Devon said. “Fortunately for the Bennetts, they can buy a lot of timber and nails with the couple million dollars from the new agrochemical deal.”

Nicholas sipped his champagne. “More than a couple million.”

I forced a laugh. “Don’t remind me, Nick. Or my accountants.”

My board chuckled. Darius hadn’t moved. Neither had the drink in his hand.

Drink it.

My stomach flipped. Bumper preferred the most inopportune moments to wake up. I ignored the nausea.

“I am very excited about this new partnership,” I said. “Especially after sitting with the Bennett Board of Directors. They are so loyal to the Bennett name.”

“To a fault.” Nicholas’s voice edged with warning.

“Nonsense,” I said. “They are bound to success. It’s a dedication that would frighten some. That drive creates many opportunities.”

The ice clinked in Darius’s glass. “And my daughter now understands the Bennetts seize every available opportunity.”

I flushed under the stares of those listening. “And when it’s not available?”

“Then we make our own opportunities.”

I shuddered. “Such a pity that ambition was so often at odds with my family.”

“No, my dear, we weren’t at odds,” he said. “You were never a challenge.”

“And there’s not one now.” I lied to them all. “Only partnerships.”

Darius chuckled. “This new generation is certainly more agreeable than the old.”

“Only because we know what we want.”

“And what’s that?”

I answered with every honesty. “Family and power. Same as the Bennetts.”

My board members nodded. Anthony raised his champagne and an eyebrow. “I’ll drink to that.”

So would Darius.

My mouth dried, but I didn’t let my hand tremble. Nicholas squeezed my elbow, as though he read through my cracking, flaking façade.

“To the beginning of a new partnership,” I said.

Darius grinned. “A new union between families.”

The toast clinked. I drew my trembling glass to my lips, staring as the liquid swirled in Darius’s glass.

One drink.

The others sipped.

Darius’s arm moved slowly, draggingly.

Up. Up. Up.

To his lips.

On his lips.

The glass cracked under my grip.

Just drink it.

My orange juice would choke me. I’d drown, bloat, suffer through the tiniest of sips in a closing throat with my aching chest. So close to being free. So close to protecting Bumper.

So close to ending it.

Drink it, you son of a bitch.

Darius opened his gullet and guzzled a swig of the alcohol. A large, gluttonous gulp that splashed down his throat.