Chapter 4 The Softest Knife

"You summoned me. How charming."

Amelia didn't knock. She never had to.

Her heels echoed like threats across the marble floors of the Roth estate as she walked into her father's study, the cathedral of control. Shelves of outdated legal books. Dark wood. No warmth.

William Roth looked up from his decanter of scotch, perfectly composed.

> "You're angry."

> "No," she said. "I'm surgical."

She tossed a photo onto the desk.

The surveillance image of Chloe stealing the merger file.

> "She says you put her up to it."

He didn't react.

> "I trusted her," Amelia said. "Which means you used someone I loved to try and ruin me."

> "I protected the company."

> "You sabotaged me."

> "You and Vance were playing house for the cameras. Falling into bed with a competitor? I couldn't let you throw the Roth name away over some "

> "Say it," she snapped.

He didn't.

So she did.

> "Over some man who sees me. Who doesn't treat me like a fucking pawn."

Silence pulsed like a heartbeat between them.

> "You raised me to kill softness in myself," she said. "But you didn't kill all of it. And you should've, if you wanted me to stay yours."

His expression cracked for half a second.

> "You think he won't ruin you?"

> "You already did," she whispered. "And I survived."

Back at the penthouse, Chloe stood by the window, holding a glass of wine she hadn't touched.

Amelia entered without greeting.

> "Start talking."

Chloe turned. Red-eyed. Pale.

> "I didn't mean to be part of it. I swear. But your father he threatened to expose something."

> "What?"

> "Not about me." Chloe's voice trembled. "About your mother."

That name hit like a slap.

> "My mother's dead."

> "Yes. But she wasn't just sick."

Chloe pulled a small flash drive from her purse.

> "Your father paid someone to keep the autopsy sealed. But the cause of death... it wasn't natural."

Amelia took the drive slowly.

> "What are you saying?"

> "I'm saying... if you want to destroy William Roth, you start there."

That night, Amelia sat on the suite terrace, wrapped in a silk robe, staring at the skyline.

Leo joined her, barefoot, fresh from the shower, towel slung low on his hips. She didn't even blink at the sight anymore.

> "You told him?" he asked.

She nodded.

> "He didn't deny it. Not once."

> "Because he doesn't need to. Power doesn't apologize."

She handed him the flash drive.

> "My mother didn't die quietly. She was silenced. And he's spent the last decade burying that truth like it was a shame."

Leo sat beside her.

> "You're going to burn him."

> "No," she said. "I'm going to bury him with his own crown."

He turned to her, slow.

> "You're beautiful when you're vengeful."

> "Careful," she said. "You're starting to sound like you believe in me."

> "I do."

> "Why?"

> "Because you're finally starting to believe in yourself."

She leaned in.

Their mouths met slower this time. Deeper.

No anger. No defiance.

Just fire, controlled and deliberate.

This wasn't an accident.

It was a vow.

The next morning, Amelia inserted the flash drive into her laptop.

Leo stood behind her, a mug of black coffee in hand.

The screen loaded slowly.

Autopsy file. Internal correspondence. Dated receipts.

And then

An audio file.

William Roth's voice. Younger.

> "I don't care what the tox screen says. Erase it. She was unstable. We'll bury her with dignity, not scandal."

Another voice: unidentifiable. Calm.

> "You're asking me to forge a medical report."

> "I'm asking you to protect my daughter from knowing her mother was going to testify against me."

Amelia's heart stopped.

Leo dropped the coffee. It shattered.

They both stared at the screen.

Because suddenly, the game wasn't just business.

It was blood.

"He let me believe she was weak."

Amelia's voice cracked, just once. That was all it took.

She stood at the center of the suite, laptop still glowing with the damning audio. The room felt like it was closing in, the past collapsing into the present.

> "He told me she was fragile," she whispered. "That she couldn't handle the pressure. That loving us broke her."

> "He made you think her death was her fault," Leo said, stepping toward her. "Because guilt is a better leash than grief."

Her shoulders shuddered. Once. Then she forced stillness back into her body like armor.

> "No more lies."

She looked up.

Her eyes weren't glassy anymore.

They were wildfire.

> "If he buried her, I'll bury him."

Leo crossed the space and cupped her face in his hands, his fingers rough but steady.

> "Then we do it together."

> "You don't owe me that."

> "Don't insult me by pretending this is about debt."

> "Then what is it about?"

> "Us." His forehead rested against hers. "This isn't pretend anymore. This isn't a PR stunt. This is war, and I'm on your side. No matter what it costs."

She closed her eyes.

> "I'm scared," she admitted.

> "Good," he murmured. "That means you still have something to lose."

They stood in silence, heads bowed, hearts pounding.

Then:

> "I want to leak the audio."

> "Not yet," Leo said. "Not directly."

> "Then how?"

He smirked. "Let's use the one weapon Roths and Vances both understand."

> "What's that?"

> "Public shame. But wrapped in silk."

Later that night, Amelia placed a call to an old contact in the financial press, an investigative reporter who once begged her for a real story.

She didn't send the full file.

Just one name.

Dr. Elliot Kane the private physician who signed off on her mother's cause of death.

And one sentence:

> "Ask him about the Roth settlement sealed in 2012."

Leo watched her hang up, his expression unreadable.

> "That was dangerous."

> "That was necessary."

> "He'll know it came from you."

> "Good," she said. "I want him to see me coming."

The next morning, Leo came back from a breakfast run with tension in his shoulders and three unread texts from his assistant.

> "You're not going to like this."

> "Try me."

He opened his phone and turned the screen toward her.

A breaking headline flashed on the news feed:

> Roth–Vance Merger Halted Indefinitely After Fraud Allegations Surface

Amelia's blood turned to ice.

> "What?"

> "They're claiming the joint venture was built on falsified data. Internal whistleblower filed an anonymous tip this morning."

> "That's impossible. The numbers were clean. I "

She froze.

Then her eyes went wide.

> "Chloe."

Leo's expression sharpened.

> "You think she "

> "No. But she accessed that file. If someone duplicated it before she returned it "

Her phone buzzed.

A new message.

Unknown Number.

> You opened a grave.

Now I'll dig yours.

Attached: a photo.

Leo.

Standing outside the penthouse this morning.

In the crosshairs of a sniper scope.