ELIZABETH'S POV
Monday starts with that tight pull in my stomach—the kind that warns me the day will be a lot. I don't need a calendar alert to tell me why. Global Legacy is coming. Liam Smith is coming. And even though I've tried to convince myself that Friday meant nothing, the truth is I've been replaying it all weekend.
Not obsessively. Not dramatically. Just… often enough that I caught myself zoning out while frosting pastries at Massie's shop.
I stand in front of the bathroom mirror, smoothing my blouse for the fourth time. It's a crisp blue button-up tucked into black trousers, simple but put-together. Professional. Unintimidated. Exactly what I need to feel today.
"Liz!" Rose calls from downstairs. "If we don't leave in two minutes I'm actually failing statistics!"
"You already are," I call back. "Coming!"
I grab my bag, inhale deeply once, then head downstairs. Massie has a breakfast sandwich wrapped and waiting in a paper napkin.
"You'll forget to eat," she says, pressing it into my hand.
"I won't," I lie.
She kisses my cheek anyway. "Good luck today."
Rose shoves her laptop into her tote bag. "Try not to let the billionaire make you cry."
"I wasn't planning to."
"Okay, but if he does, blink really fast so he feels guilty."
I snort as we all head to the door. "That won't work."
"It might. Men are stupid."
Massie laughs, waving us out. "Go. And Lizzie? Just be yourself."
I nod, even though being myself feels like the last thing that will help today.
The office is buzzing by the time I get there. Starlight has never been calm, but today feels like controlled chaos. People dart in and out of conference rooms carrying coffee trays, files, prototypes, nervous energy.
I barely make it to my desk before someone calls my name.
"Elizabeth," Leonard says sharply as he steps out of his office, adjusting his tie. "Did you confirm the catering?"
"Yes. Lunch arrives at twelve-thirty on the dot."
"And the presentation?"
"Loaded on the conference laptop and backed up on two drives."
"The architectural drafts?"
"In the file you requested, color-coded."
He breathes out, relieved. "Good. Very good. I need everything perfect today. Global Legacy is—"
"I know."
He pauses, studying me. "You seem calm."
I shrug lightly. "I'm prepared."
He nods, but there's tension in his shoulders. The kind that says he didn't sleep last night. Starlight's numbers haven't been great this quarter. A partnership with Global Legacy could change everything. Or destroy everything if it goes badly.
I sit at my desk, check my schedule, sort through papers. I'm halfway through organizing the afternoon tasks when a ripple of silence spreads through the hallway.
It's like the whole floor inhales at once.
I look up.
Three men step off the elevator. Two board members. One CEO.
Liam Smith.
He walks through the lobby with the kind of presence that rearranges the energy of a room. Dark suit, perfect posture, expression unreadable. He doesn't scan the space. He doesn't need to. People straighten instinctively when he passes, like their bodies choose respect before their brains catch up.
My heart thumps once—annoyingly loud—before settling into a tighter rhythm.
I drop my gaze to my desk, pretending I'm deeply invested in the alignment of my pen.
I can still feel him approach.
Leonard strides forward to greet him. "Mr. Smith, welcome back."
"Leonard," Liam says curtly, shaking his hand.
His voice is smooth but cold, the kind that gives nothing away.
I hear Leonard motion toward the conference room. "Let's get settled. We have a full presentation prepared."
Liam's footsteps move…
…and stop.
Right in front of my desk.
I freeze for a breath before looking up.
His eyes hit me like a collision—dark, steady, sharp enough that I feel myself straighten just from the weight of them.
"Miss Williams," he says, as if confirming something to himself.
"Yes, sir."
A flicker of something moves behind his eyes. Something unreadable, but not soft.
"Are you assisting with the meeting?"
"Yes. I'll be taking minutes and coordinating transitions."
"Hm."
Not approval. Not disapproval. Just… assessment.
He turns to follow Leonard, but not before adding, almost too quietly:
"Try to keep everyone on schedule."
I blink. It's not a compliment. But it's an acknowledgement. A subtle one. A strange one. And it shouldn't matter.
I tell myself it doesn't.
Then I exhale and gather my materials.
Inside the conference room, the air is thick with forced optimism. Starlight executives file in, smiling too brightly. Global Legacy's team sits with polished composure. Liam takes the seat at the head of the table next to Leonard.
I sit off to the side with my laptop open, fingers poised.
Leonard starts. "Thank you for meeting with us, Mr. Smith. We believe Starlight can offer strategic value—"
Liam cuts him off. "Don't sell me your pitch before showing it."
Leonard blinks, flustered. "Of course. Right. Elizabeth?"
I stand and start the presentation, controlling the slides. My voice stays measured, steady, even when Liam's gaze lands on me every few minutes, sharp enough to heat the back of my neck.
He doesn't interrupt me.
But he listens.
Intently.
Too intently.
It's unnerving.
When the financial projections begin, I return to my seat and type notes, listening to the rhythm of voices shifting around the table. The tension is palpable—Starlight pushing too hard, Global Legacy unfazed and unyielding.
At one point, an exec from our side stumbles through a statistic. Liam turns his head slowly, raises one eyebrow, and says, "Try again."
The man turns red and apologizes.
I keep typing.
Halfway through, Liam leans back in his chair, crosses an ankle over his knee, and says, "You're avoiding the real issue."
Leonard clears his throat. "We haven't gotten to—"
"You're relying on projected growth numbers you don't have the infrastructure to support," Liam interrupts.
Our financial officer stiffens. "We do have—"
"No," Liam says calmly. "You have hopes. Not capabilities."
Silence falls.
I glance up, unable to help it.
His gaze shifts to me for a split second, as if checking whether I'm recording correctly.
I am.
He continues dissecting the presentation with cool precision, pointing out weaknesses no one else dared mention. He doesn't raise his voice. He doesn't posture. He simply cuts through every illusion Starlight was counting on.
It's brutal.
Efficient.
And, in a way I hate to admit, impressive.
By the time we reach the end, tension hangs thick in the air.
Leonard tries to recover. "Perhaps we can reconvene later this week—"
"No," Liam says.
He stands. Everyone else follows instinctively.
"We continue tomorrow," he says. "Your numbers need correcting. Your structure needs clarity. Fix it."
He buttons his suit jacket, smooths the fabric with one practiced motion, then looks at me again.
"Miss Williams."
"Yes, sir?"
"Send me the transcript and revised schedule by end of day."
"Of course."
"And make sure the proposal I receive is the truth—not whatever version your executives wish it was."
I nod. "I understand."
Something flickers across his expression—something faintly satisfied—before he turns away.
His team follows him out.
The door closes.
And the entire room collectively deflates.
Someone whispers, "We're dead."
Another mutters, "That man has no soul."
Leonard sinks into a chair. "We can salvage this. We have to."
I gather my papers, keeping my expression steady.
Inside, my heartbeat is still too fast.
Not from fear.
Not from embarrassment.
But from the undeniable intensity of the encounter.
He noticed me.
And worse—he remembered me.
The rest of the workday passes in a blur. I finalize transcripts, adjust schedules, chase down executives for corrected numbers. At five-thirty, I shut down my computer, gather my bag, and leave before anyone else can corner me.
I take a cab to Rose's school. Rose is already waiting outside campus when I arrive to pick her up. She rushes to the back seat, slams the door shut, and groans into her hands.
"That bad?" I ask.
"Worse," she says.
We go to a small café near home—a cozy place with mismatched mugs and soft music. We pick a booth in the corner. Rose orders hot chocolate loaded with whipped cream. I get tea I won't finish.
She sighs dramatically and steals one of my napkins to crumple. "Liz, I'm drowning. I swear statistics is out to murder me."
"You'll pass."
"No, I won't. I tried to solve a problem today and ended up staring at the ceiling asking the universe why numbers exist."
I laugh softly. "Valid question."
She leans back, her voice dropping. "I don't want to fall behind, Liz. I already feel like I'm always two steps behind everyone else."
My chest tightens.
"You're doing fine," I say gently.
"I'm not. And I hate asking you for help because you already carry enough."
I reach across the table and squeeze her hand. "You're not a burden, Rose."
She swallows. "Sometimes it feels like I am."
"You're not," I repeat.
She nods, but her eyes stay shiny.
I wish I could fix everything for her. I wish I could split myself in two—one half climbing the corporate ladder, the other half making her life easier. But I can only do so much.
"You'll get through this," I tell her softly. "And I'll help you. We'll study this week."
Her shoulders relax a little. "Okay."
For a moment, everything feels warm and simple.
Then my mind drifts back to the sharp eyes of a man who doesn't believe in warmth or simplicity.
Liam Smith.
The man who dismissed an entire company in less than an hour.
The man who looked at me like he was trying to decide whether I was useful or dangerous.
I sip my tea.
He unsettles me.
And something tells me today was only the beginning.