Page 11 of Secret Baby Daddy

I prefer enemies who carry guns instead of press credentials.

You can disarm a man with a gun.

You cannot punch a narrative in the throat.

Cordelia Merrick’s footsteps fade down the long hallway, and the mahogany doors seal Piper and me inside the drawing room.

Piper sits across the dining table, typing violently on a silver laptop.

Thick blonde waves frame a face composed of sharp angles and aggressive intent.

She looks up, blue eyes narrowing.

“Don’t stare at me, Calder. We have work to do.”

I pull a reinforced tablet from my briefcase and set it on the marble.

“I’m not staring. I’m calculating the exact moment you try to leak a fabricated story to a tabloid.”

“I don’t fabricate.”

She slams the laptop shut.

“I guide the conversation. And right now, the conversation is about to center on a girl burning to death in a hotel corridor twelve years ago. So excuse me if I want to get ahead of the firing squad.”

She is fighting for her professional life, and we both know it.

Three months ago, the Aurelius incident nearly destroyed her.

I found the embedded consultant while Piper was still drowning in logistics spreadsheets, and the Consortium kept the defeat quiet.

But in the ruthless world of high-end crisis management, a quiet failure is still a failure.

Her agency lost faith in her.

She needs the Merrick account to prove she is still the smartest person in the room.

I never told her that I watched the aftermath from a distance.

I do not gloat; gloating requires caring what the other person thinks of you, and I have spent twelve years training myself out of that particular weakness.

But I watched the Consortium board thank her with the careful courtesy people reserve for someone they have already decided to phase out, and something in my chest tightened that I did not examine at the time.

I told myself it was professional interest.

It was not that.

I have not decided what else it was.

I unlock the Merrick tablet.

Cordelia provided the initial extortion package, and I need to verify the source files.

I tap my earpiece, connecting to my lead technical analyst.

“Hayes. I’m pushing a data packet to your secure server right now. Give me the metadata on the primary video file.”

“Copy that.”