Three hundred people watched the man slap Meredith Quinn across the face, but the most terrifying sound that night was not the crack of his hand against her skin. It was the silence afterward.

By three o’clock in the morning, Grace was asleep in a private luxury suite on the top floor of North Mercy, guarded by four of August’s most trusted men.

Meredith and August returned to the Gold Coast penthouse, but there was no sleep to be had. The war room on the second floor of the penthouse was humming with activity. Laptops lined the long glass table, monitors displayed stock tickers and city council rosters, and Leo was barking orders into a encrypted phone.

Meredith sat at the table, wearing one of August’s oversized cotton shirts, drinking hot tea while reviewing financial spreadheets.

“You haven't slept in twenty hours,” August said, walking into the room and setting a soft blanket over her shoulders.

“I used to work twelve-hour cleaning shifts followed by six hours at the hospital, August,” she replied, offering him a faint smile. “I know how to stay awake when it matters.”

“This isn't your fight, Meredith,” he murmured, sitting beside her and stroking her hair.

“It became my fight the second Ridge Harlan put his hands on me to get to you,” she countered firmly, pointing at a line item on the monitor. “Look at this. Ridge isn't just trying to block your harbor buyout. He’s shorting Vale Enterprises stock through an offshore shell company in the Cayman Islands.”

August leaned forward, his brow furrowing as he studied the ledger numbers she was pointing to. “How did you find this?”

“I run the books for my janitorial union, August,” she said, her eyes flashing with sharp intelligence. “And when I was cleaning Ridge’s executive office two weeks ago, I noticed he always kept three separate financial ledgers on his desk. One for his board, one for his taxes, and one bound in dark green leather that he kept in his floor safe.”

August stared at her, a look of profound admiration washing over his face. “You remembered the account numbers from a glance?”

“I have a good memory for numbers,” Meredith said simply. “Ridge isn't trying to beat you in the city council meeting tomorrow, August. He’s planning to declare bankruptcy on his primary firm, crash Vale stock with false rumors about your stability, and buy out your debt at pennies on the dollar.”

Leo walked into the room, holding a tablet. “Boss, the city council meeting is in five hours. Ridge’s PR team just leaked a edited video of you hitting him at the ballroom to the morning news. The media is calling you a rogue tycoon.”

August didn't panic. He looked at Meredith, a slow, dangerous smile spreading across his face.

“Meredith,” August said quietly. “Do you still have access to the employee portal at the Ashford Grand?”