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I sank farther into my chair as I read the text. It wasn't about a sale. The message was from Malcolm.
I spoke to a bunch of lawyers. They insist I have a case against you and your family. You stopped the spa from moving forward because you had your own plans for a hotel. You premeditated this.
I gasped, pressing my lips together. I inhaled deeply, hoping to calm myself. My door was open, and anyone could pass by and see that I was upset.
I got up and closed the door, then came back to my seat and read the rest of the message.
You'll be hearing from my team. But don't think you'll get away with this. Travis either. I don't care how much Declan tries to intimidate me. I'm coming for what's mine.
For what's his? How dare he?
I pressed my eyelids together, wiping away the tears.
No! I’ve shed enough tears for Malcolm. Not this time. He isn't worth it.
He'd pulled shit like this before, and I always came out the other side. I drew in a deep breath, pushing my phone away from me.
My to-do list was staring at me, but I couldn't focus for shit right now. I put my head in my palms, drawing in another few breaths.
I knew it. I never should have agreed to work with Travis at the hotel. It took my cousin months to convince me to join before I gave in. He thought I was playing hard to get or that I just needed more time off. Neither was true. I'd been afraid of exactly this—that if Malcolm knew I was involved, he’d strike one way or another.
I thought if he found out that Travis was operating the hotel alone, he'd stay away. But now he could take my involvement as a provocation. After all, Malcolm and I had wanted to open our spa in this very same building back then.
But that was bullshit. I had the right to do whatever the hell I wanted with my grandmother's building. I thought we were rid of Malcolm, but the man was never going to leave me alone. Over my dead body would he get any money from the hotel. It was a Maxwell legacy, and he wasn't a Maxwell. Never would be.
My first instinct was to reach out to Declan, but I didn't. I wanted to let this marinate in my mind for a while.
Doubt started creeping in. The months after I canceled the wedding were a blur. I was so heartbroken that I took a step back from dealing with Malcolm. We mainly communicated through Declan, who'd been cutthroat, as usual. For the first time, I asked myself... maybe too cutthroat? We'd left him with absolutely nothing. But maybe if we'd given him something, he would have gone away for good.
I rose from my desk and paced the room, happy that no one else could see me as I tugged at my lower lip with my thumb and forefinger. I mentally slapped myself, knowing I needed to stop it or I was going to draw blood. I had to tell Travis at some point. The rest of the family too. But that wouldn't be today.
Why would Malcolm do this now? Why not before?
With a pang in my chest, I realized why. Last week we sent out a press release that we were expanding beyond Aspen and Chicago. We’d found another new location in LA. Malcolm knew he had a lot of money to sink his teeth into. My family's money.
He couldn't get away with this.
I had to pull myself together. I wasn’t going to solve this right now.
Taking another breath, I decided to open the door. That way, I would have to keep my composure; otherwise, I'd spend the whole day in a meltdown. I hated that Malcolm still had so much power over me; that one single message sent me into a tailspin. I was a strong woman, but this had completely unsettled me.
Sitting behind my desk again, I adjusted my list so I saw it properly and put my phone far out of reach. I didn't think Malcolm would text again, and I knew better than to reply to him. That would just provoke him more.
I did well for a while after that—at least until lunch, when I made the mistake of looking at my phone again. He hadn't written anything new, but the problem came back front and center to my mind. What had he been up to these past years, anyway?
I looked him up on LinkedIn. Nothing came up when I searched his name. Then I searched Francesca. Also nothing.
Hmmmm.
What were they doing back in Chicago? Why had they even attended the De Monet charity event? I was desperate for information, and I didn't want to talk to him to find out. If one message put me in this state, I didn't even want to think about what talking to him might do to me.
At lunch, Kimberly knocked at my door. "Hey, want to join me, Drake, and Travis in the meeting room? We’re having lunch. We might fight over pizza again."
I forced the corners of my mouth upward, not wanting my sister to sense I wasn't happy. "No, I'm good. I have a lot to do today, so I'll stay in my office."
"You won't have lunch?"
"Nope," I said.
