Ava woke to the sound of her phone buzzing on the nightstand. A text from Lucien, sent at 6 AM:
Take the day off if you need it. No pressure to return to the office. - L
It was a small gesture, but significant coming from a man who'd spent months controlling her schedule down to the minute. She stared at the message for a long moment before typing back:
I'll be there at 9. We need to establish new boundaries if this is going to work.
His response came immediately: Agreed. I'll have coffee waiting.
When Ava arrived at Drake Enterprises three hours later, she felt the weight of everyone's eyes on her. The executive assistant pool had clearly noticed her extended absence the previous day, and gossip traveled fast in corporate environments. She kept her head high and moved directly to her desk, ignoring the whispers.
Lucien's office door was open—another small change from his usual closed-door policy. She found him at his desk, and true to his word, there was a coffee waiting for her. Not made by him, probably ordered from the café downstairs, but the gesture registered nonetheless.
"Thank you for coming in," he said, his tone carefully professional. "I know yesterday was... a lot."
"It was." She settled into the chair across from him, noting the dark circles under his eyes that suggested he'd slept as poorly as she had. "But we need to talk about how this is going to work going forward."
"I'm listening."
The fact that he said "I'm listening" instead of dictating terms felt like progress. Ava pulled out her phone and opened her notes app, where she'd spent the morning drafting a list of non-negotiable boundaries.
"First: no more surveillance without my explicit knowledge and consent. If you think I need protection, we discuss it and agree on parameters together."
Lucien's jaw tightened, but he nodded. "Agreed. Though I reserve the right to advocate strongly for security measures if I believe there's a credible threat."
"Advocate, not implement unilaterally," Ava clarified.
"Understood."
"Second: my mother's medical care continues regardless of my employment status here. It's not leverage, it's not conditional—it's a commitment you made that exists independently of our personal relationship."
Something flickered in his eyes—relief, perhaps, that she was thinking about continuing rather than immediately quitting. "Already arranged. The trust I established for her care is irrevocable. Even if you leave today and never speak to me again, her treatment continues."
Ava felt a weight lift from her shoulders. The knowledge that her mother's care wasn't contingent on her compliance changed the entire power dynamic between them.
"Third: I need access to everything you know about the people who killed my father. Files, investigation reports, all of it. If I'm potentially a target, I deserve to know exactly what we're dealing with."
"That one I can't agree to without conditions," Lucien said carefully. "Some of that information is dangerous simply to possess. If the wrong people discover you have it—"
"Then we figure out secure ways to handle it," Ava interrupted. "But I'm done being kept in the dark 'for my own protection.' Information is power, and right now you hold all of it."
They stared at each other across his desk, the air thick with tension that was equal parts professional and personal. Finally, Lucien nodded.
"I'll give you access to the sanitized reports—information about the threats without details that could put you at additional risk. And if you want more, we discuss it case by case."
It wasn't complete capitulation, but it was compromise. Ava added a note to her phone and continued.
"Fourth: I need the option to pursue other employment if I choose to, without guilt trips or implications that leaving puts me in danger."
"You have that option," Lucien said quietly. "You've always had it, technically. But Ava—" he leaned forward, his dark eyes intense, "—I do think staying close to me, at least in some capacity, is safer than being completely on your own right now. Not because I need to control you, but because I have resources and security infrastructure that most people don't."
"Which brings me to number five," Ava said. "If I do need protection, it's provided by professionals I have input in selecting, and they report to me as well as to you. No more silent bodyguards who follow your orders without my knowledge."
A ghost of a smile touched Lucien's lips. "I assume you're referring to Eleanor?"
"Among others."
As if summoned by her name, there was a knock on the door. A woman entered—tall, athletic, with sharp eyes and a professional demeanor that somehow managed to be both approachable and intimidating. Eleanor, presumably, though Ava had never been formally introduced.
"You wanted to see me, sir?" Eleanor's voice was crisp, military-precise.
"Eleanor, this is Ava Lane. Ava, Eleanor Crawford, head of my personal security team." Lucien gestured between them. "Ava has some concerns about security arrangements that I think you're better positioned to address than I am."
Eleanor turned her full attention to Ava, and there was no condescension in her expression—just professional assessment. "Miss Lane. What would you like to know?"
"Are you here to protect me, or to monitor me for Lucien?" Ava asked directly.
Eleanor's lips curved in what might have been approval. "My primary responsibility is your physical safety. Mr. Drake has asked me to maintain discretion about your movements, but my instructions are to prevent harm, not to restrict your freedom."
"And if those two things come into conflict? If I want to go somewhere Lucien thinks is dangerous?"
"Then we have a conversation about risk assessment and mitigation strategies," Eleanor replied. "I'm not a jailer, Miss Lane. I'm a security professional. My job is to give you options for staying safe while maintaining as much normalcy as possible."
The distinction felt important. Ava studied Eleanor's face, looking for signs of deception or ulterior motives, but found only straightforward competence.
"I'd like regular briefings on any threats you identify," Ava said. "And I want to be involved in decisions about my own security protocols."
"Reasonable requests." Eleanor glanced at Lucien. "Sir, for this to work effectively, I'll need Miss Lane to be fully informed about the risk landscape."
Lucien's jaw tightened. "Defined parameters."
"Agreed. I'll prepare a briefing document that provides necessary information without unnecessary exposure to sensitive details." Eleanor turned back to Ava. "Would this afternoon work for you?"
Ava nodded, surprised by how quickly her boundaries were being accommodated. She'd expected more pushback, more attempts to control the narrative. Instead, Lucien seemed to be making genuine effort to give her agency within the constraints of the situation.
"Is there anything else?" Lucien asked when Eleanor had left.
"Just one more thing," Ava said. "Weekly check-ins where we discuss how this arrangement is working and adjust as needed. I don't want to fall back into old patterns where you're making decisions without my input."
"Weekly check-ins," Lucien agreed. "And Ava? If at any point you feel like I'm crossing boundaries or reverting to controlling behavior, I want you to call it out immediately. Don't let it build up until you're planning your escape."
The reference to yesterday—to her standing in his lobby deciding whether to run—hung between them. She saw genuine fear in his eyes that she might still choose to leave, might decide that the risk of danger was preferable to staying close to someone who'd systematically manipulated her life.
"I'm not planning my escape," she said quietly. "I'm planning a functional working relationship with clear boundaries. There's a difference."
Relief flooded his features before he could mask it. "Thank you. For giving this—giving us—a chance to do it right this time."
The rest of the morning passed with surprising normalcy. Ava worked through her backlog of emails and correspondence while Lucien took calls and reviewed documents. But there was a new awareness between them—not the oppressive surveillance of before, but a mutual consciousness of each other's presence. She felt him glancing up periodically, not checking on her but just... aware. And she found herself doing the same, studying his profile when he was focused on his screen, trying to reconcile the controlling manipulator with the damaged man who'd made her birthday his security code.
Around 2 PM, there was a commotion near reception. Ava heard raised voices and looked up to see a courier arguing with security about a delivery that had no sender information. After several minutes of back-and-forth, the package was cleared and brought up to the executive floor.
Lucien's assistant Victoria signed for it and brought it to his office. Ava watched through the open door as Lucien took the package—a small, nondescript box wrapped in brown paper with an address label but no return information.
She saw his face change the moment he read the label. All color drained from his features, his hands going rigid around the package. For a moment, he just stared at it as if it might explode.
"Lucien?" Ava called out, concerned by his reaction.
He didn't seem to hear her. Just stood frozen, staring at the package with an expression of such profound fear that it made her heart race with sympathetic anxiety.
"Sir?" Victoria's voice was worried. "Should I call security?"
That seemed to snap him out of his paralysis. "No. Thank you, Victoria. That will be all."
Victoria left reluctantly, casting worried glances back at her boss. Lucien moved to his wall safe—not the regular office safe where he kept important documents, but a second safe that Ava had never seen him access. His hands shook slightly as he input the code and pulled open the heavy door.
He locked the package inside without opening it. Then he stood there for a long moment, one hand still on the safe door, breathing like he'd just run a marathon.
Ava stood and moved to his office doorway. "What was that?"
"Nothing." The lie was obvious and immediate. "Just a delivery I wasn't expecting."
"Lucien." She used the tone she'd heard him employ when he wanted direct answers. "We just spent this morning agreeing to transparency and boundaries. Don't start lying to me already."
He turned to look at her, and the fear in his eyes was more naked than anything she'd seen from him before. "I don't know what it is. But I know who sent it."
"The people who killed my father," Ava said quietly, understanding clicking into place.
"Maybe. Or someone connected to them. Or—" He cut himself off, running a hand through his hair in uncharacteristic agitation. "I need to have it analyzed before I open it. Security sweep, forensic examination, the works."
"Have you received packages like this before?"
"Twice. Both times in the years after my father's death, when I was actively investigating what happened." His voice was hollow. "Both times they were warnings—photographs, documents, things that made it very clear I was being watched and should stop asking questions."
"And you stopped," Ava said.
"I stopped being obvious about it. Stopped asking questions publicly, stopped hiring investigators who left paper trails. Started being more careful about how I pursued information." He looked at the closed safe door. "This is the first time in five years that I've received anything like this. Which means—"
"Which means someone knows we've been asking questions," Ava finished. "Someone knows about Alexander Vance's investigation, or my research, or something that's made them nervous enough to send a warning."
The implications settled over them both like a suffocating weight. The threats Lucien had been describing weren't just theoretical dangers from the past—they were active, present, and aware of them.
"We need to increase security protocols," Lucien said, shifting immediately into problem-solving mode. "Eleanor needs to know about this. You shouldn't be alone anywhere until we understand what we're dealing with."
"We," Ava repeated. "Not you making decisions and implementing them. We discuss this together."
He looked at her for a long moment, and she saw him struggle with his instinct to take control versus his commitment to the boundaries they'd just established. Finally, he nodded.
"You're right. We discuss it together. But Ava—" his voice was strained, "—I'm terrified right now. Terrified that by telling you the truth, by bringing you into this situation, I've made you a target. So please, work with me on this. Help me figure out how to keep you safe without controlling you."
The raw honesty in his voice made her throat tight. This was what genuine fear looked like, stripped of manipulation and control—just a man terrified of losing someone else to the violence that had already claimed both their fathers.
"Okay," she said quietly. "We'll work on this together. But first, we need Eleanor in here. And we need to know what's in that package."
Lucien nodded and picked up his phone to call Eleanor. But as Ava watched him pace his office, watched the way his eyes kept darting back to the safe where the mysterious package lay locked away, she realized that the game had changed.
They weren't just dealing with the aftermath of their fathers' choices anymore. They were being actively threatened by forces that had stayed dormant for years but were now very much awake and aware of them.
And whatever was in that package was just the beginning.