The rain had not eased by the time Zachery stepped out of the subway station.
It clung to the city like a second skin, slick, relentless, reflecting the glow of streetlamps in fractured gold and white. He pulled his coat tighter around himself, instinctively scanning the crowd before crossing the street. The Voss Industry & Holdings tower rose ahead of him, a monolith of glass and steel that seemed to pierce the storm itself.
Zachery slowed his steps.
He had told himself this was just a meeting. Professional. Necessary. A conversation that would end with a polite refusal or, at most, a limited arrangement he could control.
Yet his body disagreed.
The building radiated dominance. It wasn't just tall, it was deliberate. Every line, every reflective surface felt calculated, designed to intimidate and command. Zachery felt it settle into his chest, a weight he couldn't quite shake.
He hesitated at the entrance.
A warm apartment. A sleeping child. A life built on routine and restraint.
And now this.
The revolving doors parted effortlessly, ushering him into a lobby that smelled faintly of polished marble and rain-dampened wool coats. The space was expansive, quiet, and meticulously maintained. No clutter. No unnecessary movement. Control made architectural.
A security desk sat near the center, manned by a woman in a tailored suit. She looked up as Zachery approached, her expression neutral but attentive.
"Mr. Allister," she said before he could speak.
He paused. "Yes."
"You're expected."
Of course I am, Zachery thought grimly.
She gestured toward the elevators. "Top floor."
No badge. No sign-in. No waiting.
That alone should have sent him walking straight back into the storm.
Instead, he nodded and stepped into the elevator.
The doors closed silently behind him.
As the elevator ascended, Zachery exhaled slowly, pressing his fingers together to steady the faint tremor in his hands. He wasn't intimidated; he refused to be. But there was something about Ethan Voss that felt less like a man and more like an inevitability.
The elevator opened directly into a private reception area.
Muted lighting. Dark wood. Glass walls that overlooked the city like a throne room surveying its kingdom.
A man stood near the far window.
Ethan Voss turned as Zachery stepped forward.
The photographs hadn't done him justice.
Ethan was tall, taller than Zachery by at least a few inches, with a presence that filled the room without effort. Copper-blond hair caught the ambient light, styled with precision but not vanity. His suit was immaculate, tailored to sharp lines that accentuated his broad shoulders and narrow waist. Everything about him spoke of wealth, control, and confidence honed by years of command and leadership.
His eyes locked onto Zachery's immediately.
Gray-brown. Assessing. Unyielding.
For a brief moment, neither man spoke.
Zachery became acutely aware of himself, his simpler coat, his worn leather satchel, and the faint dampness clinging to his sleeves from the rain. He felt exposed, as though Ethan could see straight through the careful layers he had built around himself.
Ethan broke the silence.
"You came."
Zachery lifted his chin. "I said I'd think about it."
"And you decided."
"Yes," Zachery replied evenly. "To hear you out. Nothing more."
A flicker of something approving, perhaps, crossed Ethan's face.
"Fair," Ethan said. "Come in."
He gestured toward the inner office.
Zachery followed.
The office was expansive but sparse. A massive desk of dark glass sat near the center, flanked by sleek chairs. Floor-to-ceiling windows framed the storm outside, lightning occasionally illuminating the city in stark flashes. The space was cold, not in temperature, but in intent.
Ethan took his place behind the desk but did not sit.
"Sit," he said.
It wasn't phrased as a command.
It felt like one.
Zachery hesitated for a fraction of a second—then sat, deliberately crossing one ankle over the other. He refused to shrink.
Ethan noticed.
Good, Ethan thought.
"You're a high school teacher," Ethan began, his tone measured. "Literature. Developmental support. Counseling-adjacent intervention."
Zachery stiffened. "You've done your research."
"I don't operate blindly."
"I don't work for corporations," Zachery said. "And I don't involve myself in situations that compromise a child's well-being."
Ethan inclined his head slightly. "Which is why I contacted you."
Zachery's brows knit together. "You said the child was yours."
"He is."
Zachery searched his face for deception and found none.
"How old?" he asked.
"Six."
Zachery blinked. "Then why isn't he enrolled in a specialized institution? You have the means."
"I have the means," Ethan agreed. "What I lack is trust."
That gave Zachery pause.
Ethan stepped around the desk, closing the distance between them. Zachery tensed as Ethan leaned against the edge of the desk, arms crossed, gaze unwavering.
"My son has been shuffled between professionals who see him as a case," Ethan continued. "A challenge. An asset. A liability."
"And you want someone who sees him as a child," Zachery said quietly.
"Yes."
The word landed heavier than Zachery expected.
"Why me?" Zachery asked.
Ethan studied him for a long moment.
"Because you said no to me."
Zachery frowned. "That's hardly."
"You didn't ask for money," Ethan interrupted. "You didn't sound impressed. And you didn't bend when I applied pressure."
Zachery's jaw tightened. "I don't respond well to pressure."
Ethan's lips curved slightly, not a smile, but something close.
"I've noticed."
Silence stretched between them, charged and uncomfortable.
"I'll need to meet the child," Zachery said finally. "In a neutral environment."
"That can be arranged."
"And I set boundaries," Zachery continued. "Professional boundaries."
Ethan's gaze sharpened. "I wouldn't expect anything less."
The words were agreeable.
The undertone was not.
Zachery stood. "Then send me the details. I'll review them."
Ethan straightened as well, their proximity suddenly intimate. Too close. Zachery could see the faint shadow of stubble along Ethan's jaw, the controlled tension in his posture.
"You don't walk away easily," Ethan observed.
"I don't stay where I'm not respected," Zachery replied.
Something dark and pleased flickered in Ethan's eyes.
As Zachery turned to leave, Ethan spoke again.
"You have a son."
Zachery froze.
"How did you?"
"Four years old," Ethan said calmly. "Zane."
Zachery spun back, anger flaring. "That was not the information I gave you."
"No," Ethan agreed. "But it matters."
"It's none of your business."
Ethan's gaze softened not enough to be comforting, but enough to be dangerous.
"Everything that matters becomes my business," he said quietly. "Eventually."
Zachery felt the warning settle deep in his chest.
Outside, the rain had intensified.
Zachery walked faster than necessary, heart pounding, thoughts spiraling. The meeting replayed in his mind Ethan's voice, his presence, the way he seemed to see too much, too quickly.
This was a mistake.
He knew it.
And yet…
Back in the tower, Ethan stood by the window, watching Zachery disappear into the storm.
Xavier entered silently. "You pushed."
"I tested," Ethan replied.
"And?"
Ethan's jaw tightened.
"He's stronger than he looks."
"And that interests you."
"Yes."
Xavier sighed. "Vanessa de Veldt has been asking questions."
Ethan's eyes darkened. "Then keep her occupied."
"She won't like this."
"I don't care."
Outside, lightning split the sky.
And in two different parts of the city, two men lay awake long after midnight, each unsettled, each drawn toward something they knew could ruin them.