Theo's pov-
I should've been angry.
I should've marched into her suite, demanded to know what the hell she thought she was doing—threatening board members, rewriting the rules of war in my name.
But when I got there?
She was already waiting.
Perched on the edge of a leather armchair, legs crossed like a weapon.
Phone in one hand. Crystal glass in the other.
Poised. Composed.
Lethal.
"Did you really just threaten to bury the university's endowment fund in offshore litigation?" I asked.
She smirked.
"I offered them a choice," she said. "Me, or war."
"And you didn't think to consult me?"
She stood, walked slowly toward me.
"No. Because you're still trying to play by rules that were written to keep people like you in line. I was born breaking them."
"Sid—"
"You're worried about ethics," she said, stepping closer. "I'm worried about you getting crucified by people who smile to your face and stab you behind closed doors."
"I don't need saving."
"Didn't say you did." She reached up, straightened the collar of my shirt. "But you do need someone willing to burn a little brighter than you."
Our eyes locked.
And just like that—I felt it.
The shift.
The surrender.
Not mine.
Hers.
Because underneath all the designer silk and diamond-edge words—she wasn't just fighting for control.
She was fighting for us.
And she wasn't going to lose.
Not even to me.