CHAPTER 5

Phoebe didn't sleep that night.

She had tried—had shut her eyes, willed her mind to silence—but the moment she stopped moving, the weight of her father's words pressed down on her.

"The Lancaster deal is already in motion."

She knew what that meant. Knew how her father operated. This wasn't a threat; it was a plan. One she would have little power to stop once the pieces were set in place.

Her hands curled into the sheets as she lay staring at the ceiling of her penthouse, the city lights casting sharp streaks of silver across the room.

She had escaped this once. She wasn't about to be dragged back in.

By the time the first streaks of dawn hit the skyline, she had a plan.

She wasn't going to Damon. She wasn't going to repeat history.

She was going to cut this off at the source.

---

By noon, she was sitting across from Charles Lancaster.

The private club was nearly empty, the kind of place where old-money families brokered deals over expensive scotch. Phoebe hated it here.

Charles, however, looked perfectly at home.

He was the eldest Lancaster son, just a few years older than her, polished and poised like someone who had spent his entire life believing the world belonged to him.

"You look well, Phoebe." He smiled as he set down his drink. "It's been too long."

"Not long enough."

His smile didn't falter. "Still sharp, I see."

She didn't waste time. "You know I'm not agreeing to this."

Charles sighed, as if indulging a child. "It's not about what you want. It's about what makes sense."

"Funny," she said, tilting her head. "That's exactly what I told my father when he tried to use me as a bargaining chip."

Charles chuckled. "I get it. You want to prove you don't need your family, that you're your own person. And you are impressive, Phoebe. But let's be honest." He leaned in slightly. "You can't fight blood."

She clenched her jaw. "Watch me."

He studied her for a moment, then exhaled. "Your father is determined. And whether you like it or not, this benefits everyone. You, me, our families."

"I don't need a deal to benefit me."

Charles swirled the liquid in his glass. "You might not. But your company does."

Phoebe stilled.

He smiled. "You think your father isn't already pulling strings? It's only a matter of time before the board starts listening to him instead of you. Business is business, Phoebe. And you're smart enough to know that."

A slow, icy dread settled in her stomach.

This wasn't just about marriage.

This was about control.

And the longer she fought, the more her father would push.

Charles finished his drink and stood. "I like you, Phoebe. I always have. But don't mistake your independence for invincibility." He buttoned his suit jacket. "I'll see you soon."

And with that, he left.

Phoebe stayed frozen in place, her heart pounding.

She had always been careful. Had always kept her business and her family's influence separate.

But if Charles was right—if her father was already making moves—

She needed to act fast.

Her fists clenched.

She would not go to Damon.

She could handle this.

She had to.