Abby woke on the first morning in her new "private wing" feeling profoundly adrift. The room was gorgeous, but the light filtering through the automated, floor-to-ceiling shades felt sterile, illuminating the fact that every single aspect of her comfort was managed by the Sterling machine. She didn't choose the perfect thread count; Liam's team did. She didn't choose the bespoke coffee; it was a platinum feature of the penthouse.
Before she could even manage to find the study where her laptop and files had been mysteriously relocated, Liam appeared, impeccably dressed and flanked by two new members of his personal staff: a severe, thin woman in a designer suit named Cecilia (the wedding planner) and a man built like a concrete pillar named Rook (the chief of personal security).
"Good morning, Abby," Liam said, his tone purely corporate. "We have an hour for the bridal summit. Cecilia has condensed the entire five-month process into a five-day execution plan. Rook is here to finalize your personal protection detail."
Abby pushed a hand through her hair, resentment tightening her jaw. "Bridal summit? Liam, you announced we were getting married next week. I assumed that meant a quick trip to the courthouse. I certainly didn't assume it meant a summit."
Cecilia smiled a cold, practiced gesture that didn't reach her eyes. "Mr. Sterling's marriage is a matter of global financial consequence, Abigail. It cannot be done in a courthouse. The lack of event would itself be a headline, implying a shotgun wedding or lack of commitment. We require a curated public narrative that supports the romance we established yesterday. We have secured the use of the Sterling Family Estate on the Long Island North Shore. It will be intimate less than fifty guests but impeccably executed."
Abby looked at Liam, searching for an ounce of human flexibility. "Less than fifty? That means I can invite my mother and my best friend, right? I need two people who know me and can actually stand up with me."
Liam nodded curtly. "Your mother and your friend, Sarah, are already on the cleared guest list. Their travel and accommodation are arranged."
"And their security clearance is underway," Rook added, his voice a low, mechanical rumble.
"Their… security clearance?" Abby demanded.
"Standard protocol, Ms. Brooks," Rook explained, without blinking. "We need full background checks, asset reviews, and threat assessments on all non-Sterling guests. They are entering a high-security environment and will be exposed to a heightened risk profile."
The reality of his world crashed over her again. Her mother's messy, complicated life her small debts, her history of questionable boyfriends was about to be dissected by Liam's security team. Her fierce, loyal friend, Sarah, who worked as a schoolteacher, was now a high-risk target because she knew Abby.
"You won't expose their personal financials," Abby warned, her voice trembling slightly. "That's private."
"We require full transparency for vetting, Ms. Brooks," Rook replied, immovable. "But the information is strictly for threat management. It will not be shared with Mr. Sterling or his business office."
Liam held up a hand, silencing the brewing argument. "Rook is correct, Abby. This is about protection. You must understand that every person in your life is now, by association, a potential liability. They will be vetted, protected, and compensated for their time and cooperation. End of discussion."
He turned back to Cecilia. "Timeline."
Cecilia launched into a dizzying cascade of decisions: the selection of the caterer (Michelin three-star or five-star?), the floral arrangement (all white garden roses and hydrangeas for a look of understated purity), the dress.
"The dress," Cecilia stated, tapping her tablet screen. "Because of the accelerated timeline and the need to conceal the early stages of pregnancy for the cameras, we have three choices. All are custom-made, zero-waste silk, with strategically draped bias cuts. I require your choice within the hour, Abigail."
Abby felt dizzy. She hadn't even had time to fully process the fact that she was marrying Liam, and she was being forced to choose between three impossible dresses for a wedding that felt like a corporate merger announcement.
"I don't care about the dress," Abby snapped, the fatigue making her brittle. "Choose the one that's least flammable. I want to talk about my job."
Liam raised an eyebrow, a flicker of grudging admiration in his gaze. He knew her well enough to understand that, for her, work was sanity.
"Cecilia, you have the direction. Proceed with option two," Liam instructed, dismissing the planner. Cecilia, used to absolute authority, simply nodded and vanished.
Liam pulled up a chair and faced Abby across the polished wood table. "What about your job?"
"The prenup guarantees my position. But I refuse to be a trophy wife on paid leave before I even get morning sickness. I'm starting to feel like a very expensive asset to be locked in a vault, Liam. My work is how I maintain my sense of self. I need access to my files, I need to stay current on the Singapore acquisition, and I need to participate in the weekly video conferences."
Liam leaned forward, his expression intense. "You are currently on a two-month maternity watch, Abby. My doctor's orders. I will not have you stressing over multi-billion dollar deals while carrying my child. You will manage your health."
"You are not my doctor, and you are not my boss anymore; you are my fiancé," she countered, choosing her words carefully. "The prenup ensures my professional parity. If you try to sideline me, you are violating the very legal document you forced me to sign. I can work from this study. You have a full setup here. I will not be idle."
A slow, calculating look crossed his face. He recognized the checkmate. She was using his own legal structure against his protective nature.
"Fine," he conceded, his voice grudging. "We will bring your team to you. But they will be vetted by Rook, and their visits will be scheduled. You work three hours a day, maximum, on non-stressful advisory roles. I will personally take over the Singapore deal until the second trimester. You focus on due diligence on smaller, less volatile assets."
"Agreed," Abby said, feeling a small, hard-won victory. She had carved out a tiny slice of her professional life from his absolute control.
Liam didn't look pleased. He simply stared at her, absorbing the reality that the woman he was determined to protect was equally determined to remain a threat to his absolute authority.
"Tomorrow night, we are having a public date," Liam stated, changing the subject with the finality of a decree. "Evelyn insists we need candid photos of 'newly engaged bliss' before the wedding."
Abby sighed, running a hand over her temple. "More rehearsal?"
"More performance," Liam corrected, his voice flat. "We need to sell the fantasy one last time to make the quick wedding look like passion, not necessity."