After meeting her father Grace got a text from Liam .
Liam Vale: 'You up for a site walk tomorrow? 9 a.m. Eastwood Park.'
Grace stared at her phone. She hadn't expected him to follow through so quickly, especially not with boots-on-the-ground involvement. Billionaires usually preferred birds-eye views from penthouses not mud, noise, and community protests.
Still, she typed back
Elena Pierce: 'Wear real shoes. We're not touring a runway.'
The next morning, Eastwood Park was already buzzing. City surveyors stood near chain-link fencing. Local activists loitered nearby, eyeing them both warily. A few even recognized Grace and waved a sharp contrast to the way they looked at Liam : like he was poison in a tailored coat.
He didn't flinch.
He arrived on time, dressed in dark jeans, a weatherproof jacket, and miraculously work boots. Grace raised an eyebrow in silent approval.
"I do own non-billionaire footwear," he said as they started walking. "Shocking, I know."
"You're not trying to win points with me, are you?"
"Wouldn't dream of it," he said, though the corners of his mouth twitched like he wanted to.
They walked the perimeter of the lot. Grace pointed out areas the original plan had failed to account for flood zones, community centers, a century-old oak grove the residents had fought to preserve.
Liam listened. Really listened. No phone, no interruptions. Just sharp questions and unexpected insight.
"You know " she said finally "you're not what I expected"
"Because I'm not twirling a cigar on a yacht?"
"Because you're not yelling at me for calling your baby project garbage."
He stopped beside a rusted jungle gym and looked at her.
"I didn't bring you in to agree with me, Grace . I brought you in to tell me when I'm wrong. That's rarer than you think in my world."
Something about the way he said it low, without bravado caught her off guard.
She turned away, suddenly needing the barrier of professionalism.
"I need access to the zoning committee," she said briskly. "And your design team needs to stop treating me like a liability."
"I'll handle it."
"And your CFO still thinks I'm an activist dressed as an executive."
"Give him a few more meetings," Liam said. "You'll terrify him into respect eventually."
She smiled despite herself. Then caught him watching her. Not her slides, not her strategy 'her'
There was no mistaking the shift in the air.
The silence stretched. Too long.
"You're staring," she said.
"You're hard not to look at when you're winning."
She rolled her eyes. "Do you flirt with all your consultants"
"Only the ones who make me rethink everything"
Her heart kicked once annoyingly loud in her chest. She recovered quickly.
"Keep your head in the game, Vale," she said, already walking again. "You're not the only one with a legacy on the line."
Behind her, she heard him chuckle. Low. Intrigued but she didn't turn to look instead walked away from the site.