The executive dining room was usually a sanctuary of quiet deals and discreet conversations. Today, for Abby, it felt like an interrogation room bathed in sunlight.
Liam sat across from her at a table meant for six, the two of them surrounded by the echoing silence of the expensive room. He had ordered for them—a light, grilled chicken salad with a side of plain rice, perfectly tailored to her new, sensitive palate.
"I spoke with Evelyn Hope," Liam said, cutting into his chicken.
Abby paused, her fork halfway to her mouth. "Ms. Hope? She was incredibly helpful with the Han strategy. She gave me the leverage I needed."
"She's a brilliant attorney," Liam agreed, his voice thoughtful. "But she's also a deeply private person. She mentioned you were stressed and highly focused. She also mentioned you called her on my personal, family-only line. Why would you do that, Abby?"
Abby's mind raced. Evelyn had been an unauthorized confidante. She had overstepped, but it had saved the deal.
"Because I couldn't risk the corporate legal team leaking the details of the crisis before the counter-offer was ready," Abby explained quickly. "I needed discretion, and your personal lawyer offered the absolute highest level of confidentiality. It was a calculated risk. I knew you would approve the use of any resource necessary to protect the company's position."
Liam looked directly at her, and she felt a wave of nausea, intensified by the heat of his gaze. She lowered her head and began to eat the plain rice, focusing on the texture, trying to ground herself.
"You're avoiding the chicken," Liam noted, his tone observational.
"I'm just enjoying the simplicity of the rice," she deflected.
He didn't press the food, but he returned to the core issue. "Evelyn also told me to get some sleep. She said you spoke with a surprising familiarity about my personal life. Why, Abby?"
Abby realized Evelyn had done her a strange favor, confirming her dedication but also revealing the emotional context.
"She was comforting a stranger, Mr. Sterling," Abby admitted, keeping her voice low and honest. "When I called, I was dealing with a massive corporate crisis, and I was speaking to a woman who had just had a personal tragedy. It's hard to maintain cold professionalism at 2 AM when talking about high-stakes failure and hospital stays. I offered sympathy for your grandmother, and she reciprocated by giving me the best legal advice I've ever received."
She took a breath. "The crisis with the competitor, the all-night work, the concern over your grandmother—it all converged. I was emotionally exhausted. I let down my guard. I will ensure all future communication with your personal counsel is channeled through the appropriate corporate means."
Liam watched her, not eating, just observing the sincerity in her eyes. He was dissecting the truth from the lie, the vulnerability from the strategy.
"So you are capable of being honest, Abby. Just only when you're cornered," he observed, a wry humor in his tone. He reached for his water glass. "I'm taking you off the Strategic Integration lead for the rest of the week. You will remain on my floor. You will handle only administrative duties—scheduling, document review, and correspondence. You need a rest, and I need you where I can see you."
Abby was relieved. This was a reprieve, a chance to slow down and manage her pregnancy in the safety of administrative anonymity. But the caveat was the same: she was still under his constant watch, a valuable, fragile asset he refused to let out of his sight.