Olivia entered the lion's den or, at the very least, the Sinclair Enterprises boardroom two weeks following Alexander Sinclair's death.
The walls were black marble, the table brutalist and long. One end was occupied by Liam, surrounded by men and women with diamond cufflinks and shark smiles. Behind their placid facades was a storm of whispering headlines and cinched leashes. The world hadn't stopped turning after Alexander's death; it had started spinning faster.
Liam was CEO. And he carried the title like it was always his to own. Navy suit, relaxed tie, granite-hewn face. He didn't smile when Olivia entered. Didn't even nod, but he stood up.
A shiver of discomfort rippled through the room. Across from her, Vincent Harper leaned his head to one side with a smirk, "Mrs. Sinclair," he drawled, eyes glinting. "Or perhaps… the widow?"
Olivia did not flinch. "Recite it again and see how many teeth you keep." The room fell silent, Liam did not even blink.
"Enough," he commanded, his voice cold. "We are not here to play games." He spoke to her not as a man to a woman, but as a general speaking to an enemy.
"Marry me." It was not a proposal. It was a maneuver on a board already notched with blood. The air was electric, chairs groaned, breath halted.
"Excuse me?" Olivia insisted, astounded.
"You heard me," Liam replied. "The company's under siege. The press are salivating. Harper's circling like a vulture. And thanks to my dad's new will, you and I are tied in name but not in contract."
His eyes cut through her. "Marrying me in public ties your trust fund, your safety, your silence, and mine."
Vincent chuckled. "This is not a soap opera, Sinclair."
"No," Liam said bluntly. "It's war." His gaze never left Olivia.
"You want to make it through this? You marry me. Today. We give the press conference in two hours."
She regarded him. He wasn't asking for love, he was asking for a union, a shield, a cage, and her heart?
Her heart pounded like it already knew the answer.
"I'll marry you," Olivia replied, her words barely above a whisper. "But you'd best be ready for the storm."
Liam's jaw tightened once. Then he nodded. "Then let's get them a wedding that they'll choke on."
Serena Ford tucked her binoculars into her pocket on the rooftop of a skyscraper across from Sinclair Tower. Her lip curled around the surreptitious fake cigarette she'd been pretending not to smoke for the past hour.
The offer wasn't surprising. But the blaze in Olivia's eyes?, that was.
She pulled out her phone and punched in the number.
Yes, it's Serena. I've got the shot. Send it to all editors we have. Title it—'From Widow to Wife: The Sinclair Scandal Heats Up.'"
She paused.
"Oh, and let the corner watermark show this time. I want them to know I'm watching."
The Sinclair private chapel smelled of roses and secrets.
By 6:00 p.m., Olivia was back in white.
Not white wedding, war paint white. Bare-backed, elegant dress. Hair pulled back. Lips sliced. One-word promise, cold and clear.
"I do."
No reception. Just Grace, Olivia's loyal, observant best friend as a witness, and two Sinclair lawyers, both too afraid to inhale the wrong way.
Liam stood beside her, every inch the man about to crush the world for an empire.
They exchanged rings worth more money than most homes and kissed like a business handshake.
It was not love; it was strategy.
The press release arrived fifteen minutes later. 'Liam Sinclair Marries Stepmother Weeks After Death of Billionaire Father. Family Legacy or Cunning Grasp?'
The world caught fire.
And Olivia stood at the center of the blaze with Liam, smiling at his side. But when the camera crew departed and the door closed… the smile vanished.
Back at the estate, in the echoing corridor outside Liam's suite, she confronted him. "What do we do next?"
Liam was cracking on the bourbon because he hadn't changed. "Now we keep everyone occupied while we find the second will."
Liam thought it still existed? He looked at her. "I know it's real". My father informed Sebastian two nights before he died that he had a back-up plan. A second heir. Sebastian hadn't told him about this until now.
She stilled. "You think he changed the heir?"
"No." Liam looked up. "I think he planned to split it. Between me and someone else."
"Who?"
"That's what we're going to find out."
They were interrupted by a knock on the door.
Grace appeared, pale, holding her phone. "You need to see this," she said.
She handed the phone to Olivia. A video had just been uploaded anonymously to several gossip blogs and one major network.
Olivia pressed play. It was grainy footage, nighttime, security cam angle.
Her. Liam. Paris. The kiss; but it wasn't just the kiss now.
The audio was enhanced, the words they spoke after, the click of the shutter. Liam's voice saying, "You didn't stop me."
It played again, and again. Olivia's mouth went dry.
"It's trending," Grace said. "You're #1 on every tabloid site."
Olivia looked at Liam. And for the first time since the wedding… he looked afraid.
Downstairs, Serena Ford watched the tape from her penthouse apartment. She smiled, but she was not alone.
Waiting in the doorway behind her, a shadow of a man. He slipped a red envelope with the Sinclair seal into her hand. It was a contract; 'Payment received, delivery successful. Next: Olivia Sinclair.'
And in the corner, a note scribbled in blood-red ink: "Time to burn the bride."