velyn retired shortly after the intense exchange, leaving Abby and Liam alone in the vast, silent penthouse. The city lights below twinkled like scattered diamonds, utterly indifferent to the emotional chaos unfolding fifty stories above them.
Liam stood by the window, his back to Abby, running a hand through his dark hair. The tension in the air was thick, suffocating.
"I apologize for my grandmother," Liam said finally, his voice flat. "She is ruthless, but only because she cares. She gets to the core of things, whether you want her to or not."
E"She's remarkable, Mr. Sterling," Abby managed. "And she was right. I am deeply afraid of losing control."
Liam turned around, leaning his shoulder against the glass. "Let's talk about that fear. You told me you chose Sterling Holdings because I demand excellence. I believe you. But you also told me a carefully constructed lie about a competing offer to prevent me from interfering in your life."
He walked toward her, stopping close enough that the sheer size of him dominated her space. "You are the only person who has ever managed to pull a successful deception on me, Abby. You had me completely fooled. Why does that matter to you so much? Why do you need to operate independently of my authority, even when your health is clearly failing?"
Abby looked up at him, her gaze unwavering. "Because you are an emperor, Mr. Sterling. You don't ask people to come in; you bring them under your control. The moment I reveal a weakness, a need, or a dependence, I become part of your collection. I cease to be Abby Brooks, the strategist, and become Abby Brooks, the protected asset. I refuse to be owned."
His eyes narrowed, absorbing her raw, defiant honesty. "You think I would own you?"
"I know you would. You took over my life for two days. You ordered me to rest, sent your chef's food to my home, and had an operative watch my apartment. All without asking. You claim it was maintenance, but it was control. I need to maintain my autonomy to maintain my self-respect."
Liam was silent for a long moment, finally dropping his intense gaze to the floor. When he looked up, the usual granite hardness in his expression was cracked by a profound exhaustion.
"You're right," he admitted, his voice barely audible. It was the last thing Abby had expected—an admission of vulnerability from the emperor himself. "I do control things. Because every time I've relied on someone else's stability—my father, my first partner, even V.—they've failed. I learned long ago that the only way to avoid catastrophic loss is to control every variable. That's why I was so angry about your lie; it was a variable I couldn't control."
He walked past her to the sleek, black bar and poured himself another glass of whiskey. "I came back from my trip heartbroken and furious. I needed to see your strength, your competence. I needed to know that the single best thing in my company wasn't going to vanish. When I saw you crying, Abby, it was the first time in a long time that I didn't feel like the only person carrying the world's weight."
He didn't offer her a drink; instead, he pushed a bottle of expensive mineral water toward her.
"The control stops tonight," he stated, his voice regaining its command, but with a new layer of intimacy. "We can't work like this. I need a clear head. And you need space. For the next month, until the final integration review is done, you will only report to me via video conference. You are to work from home, except for necessary meetings. And I will not send food or surveillance to your apartment again. I'm giving you back your autonomy, Abby. Now use it to heal whatever is tearing you apart."
He had given her exactly what she needed space to hide her pregnancy but the price was accepting that he saw her weakness, and that he cared enough to unilaterally change the rules to protect her.