That was not entirely untrue. I did not mention Belle. I did not mention Tripp.
I spoke about portfolio expansion. Vertical integration. Operational efficiency. I outlined the benefits of consolidating cleaning contracts across my properties. Reduced liability. Improved oversight. Standardized care protocols.
I watched the exact moment he understood that I was not merely proposing.
I was positioning.
“Merry Band of Maids has been a stable holding,” he said cautiously.
“It has,” I agreed. “It will remain so under my ownership.”
He attempted negotiation. He attempted deflection.
I paid more than I have ever paid for a single subsidiary acquisition. An unreasonable number. One that would raise eyebrows at the board.
I did not care because this was not an asset purchase. It was leverage removal. It was protection.
When we finalized the agreement, I added one more condition.
“If you want to continue to work with the Renault group, all staff associated with your facilities will receive employee care benefits,” I stated evenly. “Insurance included.”
Alistair frowned faintly. “That is unnecessary overhead.”
“It is necessary for a continued partnership.”
A beat.
Then he nodded. The contract was signed before noon.
By the time I returned to the car, I felt something close to triumph. Tripp would no longer dictate her assignments. He would no longer threaten termination. He would no longer use her father’s care as leverage.
Her independence remained intact. Her security improved. I had solved it.
When I returned home, the house felt quieter than usual.
I found her in the kitchen. She stood at the counter, cutting vegetables with careful precision. I stepped behind her without hesitation and wrapped my arms around her waist.
She stiffened. Just slightly. It was subtle, but it was there.
“I have good news,” I murmured against her hair.
She leaned forward just enough to create space.
“Do you?”
“Yes.”
I pressed a kiss to her temple.
She did not melt into me the way she normally did. She did not turn her face up to mine.
Instead, she set the knife down carefully.
“What is it?” she asked.
“I met with Alistair Whitaker.”
Her shoulders tightened.
