The Fifty-Million-Dollar Contract

Chapter 3 The Falling Empire

(Liam Nelson's POV)

Four years.

Ivy had been gone that long, yet I still reached for the intercom.

“Ivy,” I began, ready to have her rework the Q3 projections before the board meeting.

My thumb stopped above the button.

Ivy was gone. She had been gone for 1,460 days.

I hit the polished mahogany desk hard enough to rattle the intercom.

My current assistant had used the wrong data in the slides three times that morning, and I had nearly called Ivy after every mistake.

Chloe had looked at the first draft and suggested a more “optimistic color” for the background.

I had lost the person who checked every number, remembered every investor’s private concern, and fixed every plan before it reached the board.

I blamed the thought on stress, closed the useless slides, and told myself another assistant could learn.

My investments had failed one after another. Nelson Holdings was close to bankruptcy.

The invitation-only Blackwood Financial Summit was my last chance. I needed a meeting with “I.S.,” the founder of Vulture Equity.

No one at Nelson Holdings knew her full name. We knew only that she bought vulnerable companies cheaply, repaired the divisions worth keeping, and sold the rest before management could object.

With Chloe on my arm, I searched the crowd for anyone who might be I.S. If Vulture Equity chose liquidation, Nelson Holdings would not survive it.

(Ivy Stewart's POV)

I escaped the introductions and took my mineral water onto the terrace. The night air cleared the perfume and practiced greetings from my head.

Four years earlier, I had left a moldy basement for the airport. Tonight, the summit host had invited me as his guest of honor.

Vulture Equity now moved billions on Wall Street. I.S. was simply Ivy Stewart.

Someone was watching me.

I knew who before I turned.

Liam Nelson.

Liam looked older than the photographs in the financial press. His shoulders were stiff, and lack of sleep showed around his eyes.

Someone passed without greeting him. His stride faltered, then recovered. He still came toward me expecting me to make room.

He stopped a few feet away and looked over my black dress. His confusion eased into pity.

“Ivy?” he said. “What are you doing here? Did you get a job with the catering staff?”

I took another sip of water.

He lowered his voice. “You shouldn’t be here. These people will eat you alive. Go home before you embarrass yourself.”

He glanced toward the ballroom, checking whether anyone had seen us together.

Chloe joined him and linked her arm through his before he could move closer. Her smile disappeared when she saw me, then returned for the people watching from inside.

“Darling, who is this?” Chloe paused. “Oh. It’s *you*. Still chasing Liam after all these years? Have some dignity. The service exit is in the back.”

I watched her over the rim of my glass.

Neither of them noticed the terrace door open behind them.

Arthur Blackwood, the summit host and the one person Liam had spent all evening trying to approach, walked onto the terrace with a microphone in his hand.

He walked straight toward me.