Married to the Coldest Media King

The safe house was a penthouse on the Upper East Side, overlooking the river. It was sterile, white, and silent.

Dylan woke up in a bed with sheets that felt like spun clouds. For a moment, she forgot. Then the pain in her cheek throbbed, bringing it all back.

She walked into the living room. Carter was there, standing by the window like a statue. He pointed to a table where a new iPhone sat next to an ice pack.

Your new number, he said. It is encrypted.

Thank you, Dylan said. She picked up the ice pack and held it to her face. Where is Garland?

Mr. Brennan is busy, Carter replied automatically.

Dylan scoffed. Busy. Right.

Her phone rang. It was a number she recognized-the nursing home where her grandmother, Rose, lived.

Miss Maxwell? The nurse's voice was panicked. You need to come. There are men here. They are shouting at Mrs. Maxwell.

Dylan's blood ran cold. I'm coming.

She looked at Carter. I have to go. Now.

Carter frowned. You are advised to rest.

My grandmother is in trouble. If you try to stop me, I will jump out this window.

Carter sighed. I will drive you.

The ride was tense. When they arrived at the assisted living facility, Dylan didn't wait for Carter to open the door. She sprinted into the lobby.

She heard the shouting from the solarium.

Gordon Vance, one of her father's biggest creditors, was standing over Grandma Rose's wheelchair. He was a vulture of a man, balding and sweaty.

Sign the release, Rose! Vance yelled. That ring on your finger is bought with stolen money!

Grandma Rose, confused and frail, clutched her left hand to her chest. No, she whimpered. It's my wedding ring.

Dylan burst into the room. Get away from her!

She shoved Vance. It was a pathetic shove, given her size, but her fury gave it weight. Vance stumbled back.

Well, look who it is, Vance sneered. The little thief. I should sue you too.

You are harassing a senile woman, Dylan spat. Get out.

I'm taking the ring, Vance said, reaching for Rose's hand again. And I'm freezing her trust fund tomorrow.

Rose looked up, her eyes suddenly clearing. Dylan, she whispered. She pressed something into Dylan's palm. A small, cold key.

Dylan closed her fist around it.

Vance stepped closer, his face red. You Maxwells are finished. You are garbage.

Dylan looked around the room. In the corner, a TV was playing CNBC. The headline scrolled across the bottom: BRENNAN GROUP ACQUIRES TECH GIANT.

An idea, reckless and desperate, formed in her mind.

She saw Carter standing at the entrance of the solarium. He was watching, his arms crossed, his face unreadable.

Vance saw him too. He recognized the suit. He recognized the pin on the lapel. Brennan Security.

Vance's eyes darted from Carter to Dylan.

Dylan straightened her back. She channeled every ounce of arrogance she had learned in boarding school.

"You really want to do this, Gordon?" she asked, her voice dropping an octave. "My... situation is currently under review by Brennan Capital's legal department. Mr. Carter here is handling the asset assessment. This ring, as part of the Maxwell estate, is now a component of that assessment. Your actions constitute interference with a pending corporate merger."

Vance blinked. What?

"My father's debt is being restructured," Dylan lied, her heart pounding so hard she thought it would burst. "Brennan Capital has taken over the portfolio. They are auditing everything. Including the provenance of every asset. If you touch her, you aren't stealing from me. You are stealing from Garland Brennan. Do you want to explain that to his lawyers?"

Vance looked at Carter. Carter didn't move. He didn't speak. But he slowly, deliberately, raised an eyebrow.

The silence stretched, heavy and suffocating.

Vance swallowed hard. He wiped sweat from his forehead.

I... I didn't know, he stammered. I thought...

You thought wrong, Dylan snapped. Leave. Before I call Mr. Brennan.

Vance grabbed his briefcase. This isn't over, he muttered, but he retreated, practically running out of the room.

Dylan watched him go. Her knees gave out, and she grabbed the back of the wheelchair to steady herself.

Grandma Rose patted her hand. Good girl, she murmured. Just like your grandfather.

Dylan looked at Carter. He was walking toward her.

She braced herself for the scolding. For him to call Garland and tell him she was a liar.

Carter stopped in front of her. He looked at the door where Vance had fled.

That was... creative, Carter said.

Dylan let out a breath she didn't know she was holding. Please don't tell him.

Carter adjusted his cuffs. Mr. Brennan hates being used, Miss Maxwell. But he hates losing assets even more.

He offered her his arm. Let's get your grandmother settled.