Elin, already outside the bakery and moving quickly down the street toward the agreed-upon safe house, stopped abruptly. Sebastian's threat—the image of her bakery being bulldozed—flashed through her mind, colder and more terrifying than Axton's father scorn.
"Stop," Elin interjected, her voice cutting across Axton's detailed instructions to Lance. Her hand, clutching the phone, was shaking so violently she could barely hold it.
Axton paused mid-sentence. "Elin? What is it? You should be moving. I need you to focus on getting to safety."
"No, you need to focus," Elin retorted, her voice raw and laced with sudden, desperate anger. The fear of losing her business had crystallized into fury at the man who had asked her to risk everything.
"I just stood there and let a man threaten to destroy my life's work, and you sound like you're ordering takeout! He gave me twenty-four hours, Axton! What if your trap fails? What if Vivian gets away and Sebastian goes through with it?"
She was openly challenging him, the adrenaline finally overcoming her composure. "I don't know if I can do this anymore. I don't know if the takeover is worth losing Bluebell Bakes. You can recover from a firewall breach; I can't recover from my business being razed!"
"Elin," Axton commanded, though they were miles apart, forcing a connection through the urgency in his voice. "I hear you. I see the cost. But the trap cannot fail. Do you understand? Sebastian's threat is the final catalyst. He made his move because he's panicking, and his partner, Vivian, will follow suit."
"But what if she doesn't move fast enough? What if he pulls the trigger first?" Elin pleaded, her voice cracking. "I want out, Axton. Tell me you have a contingency for the bakery, right now. Tell me this entire plan wasn't based on a giant maybe."
Axton took a slow, deep breath, the cold focus in his voice softening with deep reassurance. "The plan was never based on a maybe, Elin. Sebastian knows where you lease. But what he doesn't know is that three days ago, right after the dinner with my father, I bought the building. The property is held under a blind trust, secure and entirely out of his reach. He has zero leverage."
Elin gasped, the shock of the revelation silencing her immediate panic. The bakery was safe.
"You bought it?" she whispered, the tension dissolving into sudden, profound relief.
"I bought it," Axton confirmed, his voice regaining its authority, now infused with the quiet strength of the man who always mitigates risks.
"Sebastian is threatening an empty gesture. You are safe. The bakery is safe. Now, every move he makes, every threat, only seals their fate. Your part is over. Please, get to the safe house. We win this together."
Elin let out a shuddering breath, her grip on the phone loosening as the terror drained away. "Okay. Okay, I'm moving. I'm sorry, Axton."
"Don't be sorry," Axton instructed gently. "You fought for what you love. Now let me fight for you. Call me when you get there."
***
The next morning dawned bright and deceptively calm, a sharp contrast to the corporate storm raging behind the scenes. Sebastian, punctual and pulsing with satisfied aggression, arrived at Bluebell Bakes twenty minutes before the official opening time.
He had barely slept, fuelled instead by the exhilaration of his ultimatum and the imminent acquisition of both a partner and a property.
He found the front door locked.
Sebastian frowned, checking his expensive wristwatch. It was 8:40 AM. Elin was always meticulous, always open on time. He tried the handle again, rattling it impatiently. The bakery was completely dark, save for the weak spill of morning light filtering through the large front windows.
He pressed his face close to the glass, peering in. The interior was unnervingly still. He could see the spot on the counter where he had smashed the box of tarts. He could see the clean, empty display cases. But there was no sign of Elin. No scent of baking bread. The air felt cold, undisturbed.
Sebastian pulled out his phone, his irritation immediately boiling into anger.
He had given her twenty-four hours to comply, and she was already playing games.
He dialled her number. It rang four times before going straight to voicemail—a cold, digital dismissal. He tried again. The same result.
He started pacing the sidewalk outside, his perfectly tailored suit an incongruous sight against the quaint, suburban streetscape.
The twenty-four hour deadline wasn't up until the afternoon, but he needed to assert his dominance now. He needed to see her broken, ready to comply.
She's trying to make me sweat, he thought, his frustration turning into a genuine, dark rage. She thinks if she hides, she buys more time.
He pulled his phone out again, but this time, he wasn't calling Elin. He was calling his lawyer, a man who specialized in swift, aggressive commercial real estate acquisitions. He spoke quickly, his voice tight with command.
"The leaseholder is resisting. Initiate the contract review now. Find the nearest available property developer with a demolition team. I want a formal eviction notice on the door of Bluebell Bakes by noon today. I want her to know I'm not bluffing. She has until 5 PM to accept my proposal."
As Sebastian finished his ruthless command, he glanced back at the dark windows of the bakery. The sight of the undisturbed interior only deepened his fury. He was accustomed to people crumbling under his pressure; Elin's silence was an unexpected, infuriating defiance.
He felt a deep, sickening lurch, not of fear, but of profound entitlement violated.
He hadn't just wanted Elin; he wanted the power to make her choose him over everything else. Her absence denied him that critical moment of victory.
Sebastian stood there for several minutes, the expensive gift box he had left on the counter the previous day mocking him through the glass. The silence of the closed bakery was louder than any screaming argument.
"Fine, Elin," Sebastian muttered, his voice cold and hard, a promise of retribution. "You want to play hardball? You want to hide from the inevitable? Let's see how you feel when the wrecking crew arrives."
He settled back into the plush leather of his car, he drove directly toward his corporate headquarters, confident that his lawyer, Mr. Hayes, would have the eviction notice drafted and served on Bluebell Bakes by noon, fulfilling his explicit, non-negotiable command.
He had given Elin a consequence that she could not ignore.
He was twenty minutes into the drive when his phone rang—a direct, urgent call from Mr. Hayes. Sebastian answered immediately, his voice sharp with expectation.
"It's done, Hayes? The notice is ready to be delivered?"
Mr. Hayes' voice, usually clipped and efficient, was laced with an unusual, strained professional confusion. "Sebastian, I need to speak with you. This situation with the bakery property... it's far more complicated than your initial request suggested."
Sebastian felt a prickle of irritation. "Complicated? It's a lease, Hayes. The owner is a small-time LLC. Just leverage the outstanding property taxes or find a structural code violation. I need that notice served today."
"I'm afraid that's impossible, Sebastian," the lawyer stated flatly. "We ran the title search based on your specifications—the immediate past owner, the LLC, was dissolved three days ago. The property was sold in a private, all-cash transaction."
Sebastian frowned, confusion replacing irritation. "Three days ago? Who was the buyer? I told you to flag any sales. Who slipped this past us?"
"That is the core of the problem, Sebastian. The property was acquired by a Delaware-based entity registered as 'Blue Sky Holdings, LP'—a sophisticated blind trust. We cannot, at this moment, pierce the corporate veil to identify the beneficial owner. It is structured with extreme precision, designed specifically to resist aggressive corporate inquiry."
A cold, distinct knot of unease began to form in Sebastian's gut. This was not the work of a typical commercial landlord or a simple private investor.
This smelled of corporate power, the kind that moves in silence and creates immediate, impenetrable defence structures.
"Blind trust?" Sebastian scoffed, though the sound was hollow. "I don't care about a shell company. Initiate the hostile takeover procedure on the property, Hayes. I want that building condemned for development. We'll force the trust to sell."
"Sebastian, listen to me," Mr. Hayes insisted, the urgency in his voice rising. "We cannot initiate a hostile procedure. We have absolutely no leverage. The building was purchased cash-in-hand, the new owner has no debt, no mortgages, and zero outstanding violations. More critically, the trust immediately filed for and received a special zoning designation under historical preservation due to the age of the structure."
Sebastian's foot unconsciously slammed on the brake, forcing a sharp deceleration. "Historical preservation? That bakery is seventy years old, not a national monument! That takes weeks, months!"
"It takes influence, Sebastian," the lawyer corrected dryly. "And a level of expedited government approval that indicates an extremely powerful, highly motivated benefactor. Someone moved fast—very fast—to make this building completely untouchable by standard aggressive real estate tactics."
Sebastian pulled the car over abruptly to the side of the road, the truth hitting him with the force of a physical blow.
Someone didn't just buy the building to protect it. Someone bought it to neutralize his threat.
He slowly repeated the question to his lawyer, his voice dangerously low. "Who has that kind of influence, Hayes? Who would move that quickly and that specifically to block a simple real estate acquisition?"
Mr. Hayes hesitated, clearly uncomfortable. "I cannot confirm it, Sebastian, but the signature—the speed, the legal structure, the political leverage—it all points to one source. It looks exactly like the rapid-defence strategy favoured by Creighton & Vale's in-house legal team."
A sickening chill raced down Sebastian's spine.
He stared out the window, his mind racing through the last forty-eight hours: Elin's sudden, absolute resistance; his own desperate, over-the-top ultimatum; Elin's refusal to answer his calls this morning. He hadn't been pressuring a lovesick baker. He had been walking directly into an expertly managed corporate trap.
He realized now why Elin hadn't crumbled. She hadn't been silent out of fear; she had been silent out of security.
Her terrified vulnerability had been the final, necessary piece of the performance, designed to push him into a desperate, measurable act of aggression.
His final, aggressive move—the demand for an eviction notice—was not an assertion of power. It was the moment he had revealed his hand and proven his ruthlessness to the one person whose influence mattered most.
Sebastian ended the call abruptly, his mind spinning. The trap wasn't just about the stolen data; it was about exposure. He had been maneuvered, played, and finally, decisively defeated on his own terms. Elin wasn't just protected; she was now the protected asset of the Creighton empire.
He slammed his car door shut, the silence of his vehicle a ringing testament to his defeat. The realization that he hadn't been manipulating Elin, but had been actively performing for Axton Creighton, was a profound humiliation.
His fingers were already flying across the screen, dialling the one person who shared his culpability and, he hoped, his shock: Vivian.
The connection established instantly. Vivian answered with an eager, proprietary tone, completely unaware of the catastrophe unfolding.
Sebastian? Good. I was about to call you. I'm finalizing the project reports now. Axton's been so distracted and vulnerable. He's handed me everything. It's perfect," Vivian reported, her voice bubbling with satisfied ambition. "Is Elin giving you any more trouble?"
"Stop," Sebastian hissed, the single word sharp and laced with pure terror, cutting through her confident chatter. "Stop talking about Elin. Stop talking about the budget. It's all gone wrong, Vivian. Catastrophically wrong."
On the other side of the city, in the sterile, secure hub, Axton sat beside Lance. He wore a headset, his eyes fixed on a monitor displaying a complex network diagram. Lance's team had seamlessly bridged the connection the moment Sebastian called Vivian, routing the conversation directly into Axton's earpiece.
Axton listened, his face a mask of cold, surgical calm. He placed a steadying hand on Elin's shoulder, who sat beside him, watching the silent drama unfold across the monitors.
"What are you talking about, Sebastian? What's wrong?" Vivian's voice was instantly defensive, shedding the coyness for pure corporate alarm.
"I went too far. I gave her the ultimatum—the twenty-four hour deadline. I threatened to have the bakery demolished to force her hand."
"And?" Vivian pressed, impatiently. "Did it work?"
"No! It was a setup! Axton bought the building. It's shielded by an impenetrable trust and historical preservation status. They moved three days ago. I just got off the phone with Hayes. The entire thing—Elin's hesitation, the breakup, the vulnerability—it was all a performance designed to draw us out!"
A gasp of pure, wounded disbelief travelled clearly over the line. Vivian's confident breathing hitched. "That can't be right. Axton is a mess. He's handed me the entire project's financial structure. He practically begged me to take over the board reports. He was broken!"
"He was acting! He was stalling!" Sebastian yelled, his voice rising into near-hysteria. "He knew we were communicating. He knew I would rush to force the issue to prove myself! He wanted me to make the threat! He wanted me to call you! We were both being played, Vivian! This entire operation was a failure!"
"The financial models..." Vivian whispered, the realization hitting her like a physical blow. "The files I stole... the one you told me to slip out... were they decoys?"
"Of course they were decoys!" Sebastian raged. "Creighton & Vale doesn't leave multi-billion dollar data unsecured. We've been dancing on a wire he laid for us. He knew we'd sell the 'stolen' data to the competitor, confirming our partnership and our intent to commit corporate sabotage. We just gave him the irrefutable evidence he needed on a silver platter!"
Both Sebastian and Vivian were staring into the sudden, chilling abyss of their complete downfall. The sound of their heavy, defeated breathing was the only thing heard by Axton and Elin.
Axton waited, his gaze unwavering. He let the silence stretch for five agonizing seconds, allowing the full weight of their confession and their despair to settle.
Then, he pressed a key on Lance's console, fully injecting his voice into the live call.
"It wasn't just the stolen data, Vivian," Axton's voice cut through the silence like a razor, the unexpected intrusion making both Sebastian and Vivian gasp audibly.
"The report you're preparing for the board is also a decoy. It contains deliberately flawed market assessments. When you present that to the Board tomorrow, it will confirm your intent to mislead and destabilize the company, providing the final, necessary corporate justification."
Axton paused, letting his voice drop to a final, inescapable verdict.
"The wiretap is complete. The confession is recorded. And Sebastian," Axton added, his voice hardening with the finality of justice. "The demolition notice you just initiated on Elin's bakery building has now sealed your fate for attempted criminal coercion. It's over."
"No! No, you arrogant bastard, you don't win!" Sebastian shrieked, his voice losing all semblance of control, spiralling into hysteria.
Vivian, silent until now, managed a faint, despairing sob that served only as background noise to Sebastian's desperate denial.
Axton remained perfectly calm. The escalation was expected—the final thrashing of a cornered man. He waited patiently for Sebastian's breath to catch, giving the enraged man enough space to deliver the final, irrevocable proof of his malice.
"You're pathetic, Sebastian," Axton finally stated, his voice a low, chilling current that cut through the hysteria. "You're threatening corporate scandal because your pitiful attempt to acquire a woman and a bakery failed. You don't have leverage; you have the evidence of your own petty criminality."
Axton paused, letting the silence carry the weight of his authority, then delivered the definitive blow.
"You threatened Elin, Sebastian. You threatened the woman I love. You threatened the physical destruction of her life's work to force her to your will. That, in my company, is not merely coercion or sabotage; it is a devastating act of violence and aggression against a protected interest."
Axton's tone hardened, becoming the unforgiving voice of the CEO defending his empire. "Do you truly believe, Sebastian, that I would go to this extreme, constructing this elaborate, flawless counter-operation, simply to win a takeover bid? The bid is a fraction of my company's value. But Elin is my centre."
"Your threat to bulldoze her business, to cause her profound emotional and financial distress, constitutes a direct and irreparable threat to my stability, my focus, and my reputation. You made her a target, Sebastian. And when you threatened her, you threatened the foundation upon which my entire future rests. That is why you are finished. That is why the full power of my name is currently being brought to bear against you."
Axton took a slow, deliberate breath, his final words falling like icy hammer strokes. "The police are on their way to your last known location, Sebastian. And they will be there to collect Vivian shortly as well. Say goodbye to your freedom. And goodbye to your career."
The sound of the final, desperate silence on the phone line was still ringing in the secure hub, but for Elin, the relief was immediately complicated by a profound wave of sadness. She lowered the headset, her hands trembling slightly, and stared at the complex network diagrams flashing on Lance's monitor. The corporate victory felt cold, hard, and unexpectedly heavy.