Her Son Works for the Man She Destroyed

"One word from my wife and your company walks away with enough to set you up for life!"

I watched the ugly performance of it, and I couldn't help wondering.

When he'd threatened my father into stepping aside all those years ago, had he worn this same face?

"Sorry. A partnership with the Sullivans is beneath me."

I pressed the intercom on my desk.

"Send up two security guards."

They were up fast, and they hauled Bill James back.

His eyes went wide. A man of his standing, and someone had actually dared to lay hands on him.

Then the office door slammed open again.

A tall, lean girl came charging in, early twenties, head to toe in some streetwear label.

She jabbed a finger at my face and started in.

"Who the hell do you think you are, putting your hands on my father? Keep it up and I'll have my mother shut this dump of a company down by tomorrow!"

I looked at the brash young face, and at the brow and eyes that traced the exact line of Bill James's.

And another image cut across my vision.

That rainy night twenty years ago, when I lost two people I loved at once.

The father who'd doted on me, and my baby sister, only a month old.

If she'd lived, she'd be about this age now.

"This is your daughter?"

There was a tremor in my voice I couldn't quite keep down.

"Of course. Yvette Sullivan, my daughter with Kay."

I stared at the two of them. Then I smiled.

"Good."

I stood and looked at Yvette.

"Go home and tell your mother. I'd love to see how she plans to deal with me."

The guards had them out the door soon enough.

I sat back down, picked up the glass of water gone cold, and drained it in one go.

This was only the beginning. I knew that.

After they were gone, I gave my assistant another task.

"Pull everything on Yvette Sullivan. The more detail the better."

The file came quickly.

Yvette Sullivan, twenty-one, college senior, currently interning at the city TV station.

The TV station. What were the odds.

I looked at the file, hesitated a long while, then made the call anyway.

It was answered fast.

"Bas? Why are you calling this late? I thought you said you were swamped today."

Charlotte Joyce's voice, and I went quiet for a few seconds.

She's my girlfriend, and the star producer at the city TV station.

I didn't want to pull her into any of this.

But this was the one thing only she could help me with.

"Do you have an intern over there named Yvette Sullivan?"

She answered right away.

"Yeah. Word is she's the Sullivan Group heiress. How do you know her?"

I wavered, then finally said it.

"I don't want to see her. Can you let her go?"

There was a beat of silence on her end.

She knows me. She knows I'm not the kind of man who makes a fuss over nothing.

"Bas. What happened?"

"Nothing."

I didn't want her anywhere near my past, so I kept my voice low.

"I just don't like that Sullivan family."

She didn't push. She just gave a quick, clean answer.

"Okay. I'll handle it."

I let out a breath. Something in my chest eased, and I was grateful for her.

"I'll come by the station tonight and pick you up."

After work I drove to the city TV station, and I'd barely stepped out of the car when I saw Yvette, two security guards holding her back, still spitting curses.

"On what grounds are you firing me? Because I cursed a few people out on the clock? Let me tell you, my mother is Kay Sullivan. You cross me, you cross the entire Sullivan Group!"

A man stood beside her, trying to reason with her, helplessness all over his face.