Blake's hand stops tapping against his tablet. "Explain elevate."
Dorian folds his hands. "Social-impact campaigns. Family-forward content. Carefully approved profiles, if appropriate. Donor-facing materials that show the sanctuary's work without compromising its integrity. Audiences respond to authenticity. Investors do too."
Authenticity. Rescue narrative. Social impact. Family-forward. Every phrase is polished clean, but beneath it I hear doors opening where walls should be. I think of Luca walking barefoot through Ember House, of the young Omegas who still flinch when delivery trucks pull up, of Wilson's warning about people learning to call access by softer names.
Blake catches it too. I see it in the set of his jaw. But I also see the numbers on the screen reflected in his glasses. Endowment growth. Launch protection. A machine large enough that he could stop being the only thing standing between Ember House and another budget crisis.
"We'll take the materials," I say before Dorian can press the point further. "Maceo will review legal access and resident protection language. Blake will review operational scope. We don't make decisions in this family because a deck looks expensive."
Victor stands when I do, smile still intact. "Prudent. That's why your position is so strong." His eyes move to Blake then, a beat late. "Both of your positions."
Blake's expression remains calm. Only I'm close enough to feel the anger simmering under it.
When the elevator doors finally close behind them and their scents begin to thin in the ventilation, the boardroom feels too bright. Blake stays at the table, tablet still in his hand, staring down at the slide Dorian left open. A global rollout map spreads across the screen in clean lines and bright projections.
"They did exactly what the email did," he says.
"I know."
"They talked to you like you own the room and talked to me like I painted the walls."
I move closer, stopping beside his chair rather than behind it. "You corrected them."
He huffs once, a tired sound with no humor in it. "Dorian complimented me like I was a gifted child at a science fair. It was very elegant. I almost wanted to thank him for letting me use the grown-up scissors."
My jaw tightens, but I keep my voice even. "Do you think it was intentional?"
"I think it doesn't matter as much as it should." Blake looks up at me then, and the conflict in his face hits harder than anger would. "Because the offer's good."
That's the worst part. It's not an obvious trap. It's not laughable. It's not easy to dismiss. It's a door opening exactly where Blake's been throwing himself against a wall for years.
"They'd triple the Ember House endowment," he says, quieter now. "They'd take localization off our internal team. Animation could carry Starlight Falls into markets we can't reach alone. The launch would be enormous, Luther. Not just successful. Protected."
"You don't have to sell pieces of yourself to be protected."
His mouth tightens. "I know that."
But he doesn't sound certain, and I hate Victor Hale for making my mate doubt a truth we spent years teaching him to believe.
Dinner's louder than the boardroom and more honest by far. The long kitchen table's covered in takeout containers from the deli, wraps, salads, fries, sliced fruit, the extra protein bowls Quentin keeps insisting we order, and three different sauces Samuel's decided need to be compared for "global purposes." Rosalie's in my lap, crown crooked, stealing from my plate with quiet determination. She presses a fry into ketchup, considers it,then eats the entire thing while looking at Blake as if daring him to stop her. Blake's too distracted to notice.
James sits beside Grayson with his slider taken apart into layers. "What's a merger?" he asks, arranging pickles in a line. "Is it when companies get stuck together like magnets?"
Grayson reaches for a napkin and wipes sauce from Samuel's wrist before it gets on the table. He looks tired tonight, the kind of tired that makes his smile come a second late. "Sometimes. It's when two companies decide they can do more together than apart, but they have to agree on who does what."
James thinks about that. "Magnets can repel."
"Yes," Maceo says from the far end of the table, where he's got the preliminary clause packet beside his plate and hasn't touched his salad in several minutes. "That's also relevant."
Samuel leans toward Luca with a fry in each hand. "If Starlight Falls goes global, does that mean snacks go global too? Because if people everywhere can play the game, we should have snacks from everywhere. That's fair."
Luca's laugh is soft, but his eyes are on Blake. He's been watching him since we sat down, tracking the untouched food, the hand near his chest, the way Blake keeps looking at the printed deck as if it might rearrange itself into something less insulting if he stares long enough.
"You can make a snack proposal," Luca tells Samuel, smoothing a hand over his curls. "With drawings."
Samuel accepts this responsibility immediately.
Rosalie reaches for another fry from my plate and settles deeper into my lap, sticky fingers resting against my wrist. Her weight's warm and grounding. I press a kiss to the top of her head while watching my family circle the issue from different angles, none of us ready to touch the center too hard.
