The city glittered beneath them like nothing was breaking.
From the rooftop terrace, Manhattan looked untouchable—glass towers glowing gold against the deepening evening sky, traffic moving in ribbons of white and red far below, power and money flowing endlessly through streets Nicole Ritter had spent years conquering.
Usually, the view calmed her.
Tonight, it felt cold.
Toby sat across from her in silence, tension slowly replacing the composure he normally carried so effortlessly. For the first time since Nicole met him, he looked like a man caught between competing instincts instead of someone fully in control of the room.
Good.
Nicole preferred honesty under pressure.
Even ugly honesty.
"You used your father's last name in every deal except the ones involving me," she said calmly.
Toby held her gaze. "Yes."
"No hesitation?"
"What would be the point?"
Nicole leaned back slightly in her chair, studying him with the same precision she used during hostile negotiations.
"You built an entire relationship on omission."
"I built proximity," Toby corrected quietly.
"That's not better."
"No," he admitted. "It isn't."
The honesty should have softened the moment.
Instead, it made everything sharper.
Because Nicole understood strategy.
And Toby had played one very well.
Across the terrace, Chase watched from a distance near the bar entrance, posture relaxed enough not to attract attention, eyes fixed carefully on the interaction anyway.
He couldn't hear every word.
But he could read enough.
Nicole's body language had changed.
Less guarded.
More dangerous.
That was when she was closest to exploding.
"You knew exactly who I was from the beginning," she said.
"Yes."
"And your father?"
"He knew enough."
Nicole's eyes narrowed slightly. "Enough?"
Toby exhaled slowly, gaze shifting briefly toward the skyline before returning to her.
"He knew you were the obstacle."
The words settled heavily between them.
Obstacle.
Not competitor.
Not equal.
Obstacle.
Nicole almost smiled.
Wrong choice of language.
"Your father thinks very highly of himself."
Toby's expression flickered faintly. "You have no idea."
Nicole folded her hands carefully in front of her. "Then explain it to me."
For the first time that evening, Toby hesitated.
Not strategically.
Personally.
And Nicole noticed immediately.
"My father doesn't lose," he said finally. "Not publicly. Not financially. Not politically."
"And he thinks I'm standing in the way of something."
"Yes."
"What?"
Toby looked at her for a long moment before answering.
"Expansion."
Nicole's lips curved slightly, though there was no warmth in it.
"That vague answer tells me the real one is worse."
Toby didn't deny it.
Because of course it was.
Nicole leaned forward slightly now, voice quieter.
"How long were you reporting back to him?"
"From the beginning."
There it was.
Simple.
Clean.
Cruel.
Nicole felt something cold settle deeper inside her chest—not heartbreak, not surprise.
Confirmation.
Because some part of her had known for weeks that Toby Benson was never just a man drawn to her.
He was an operation.
A calculated one.
"What exactly did you give him?" she asked.
Toby's jaw tightened subtly. "Access points. Internal rhythms. Weaknesses in timing."
"You sold operational strategy."
"Yes."
"And personal information?"
His silence answered before his words did.
"Some."
Nicole's expression hardened fully.
Behind the controlled exterior, anger finally began sharpening into something lethal.
"You used me."
Toby met her gaze directly. "At first."
The correction irritated her more than it should have.
"At first," she repeated softly. "That's supposed to matter?"
"No," he admitted. "But it's the truth."
Nicole stared at him for several long seconds.
Then she laughed quietly once.
Not amused.
Disappointed.
"That's the problem with men like you," she said. "You mistake developing feelings for changing what you did."
Toby absorbed that without reacting.
Because he knew she was right.
Across the terrace, Chase shifted slightly, watching the conversation tighten from afar. He still couldn't hear clearly, but Nicole's posture told him enough.
Toby had confirmed something significant.
And Nikki looked furious.
Not emotional.
Worse.
Controlled fury.
The kind that usually ended careers.
Or lives.
"You should leave," Toby said quietly.
Nicole's attention snapped back to him immediately. "Excuse me?"
"This is escalating faster than you realize."
"You don't get to warn me after participating."
"I'm trying to help you."
"No," Nicole replied coldly. "You're trying to reduce damage."
Toby leaned forward slightly. "Nicole, listen to me carefully. My father is not Greg."
"No," she said softly. "Greg is emotional. Your father is strategic."
"Yes."
"I already figured that out."
Toby's voice lowered further. "Then understand what that means."
Nicole's eyes sharpened.
"You think I'm underestimating him."
"I think you still believe this is a fight you can control."
That sentence hit harder than Toby intended.
Because too many people had started saying versions of the same thing lately.
Chase.
Blair.
Now Toby.
Nicole hated repetition when it carried truth.
"I control outcomes," she said evenly.
Toby shook his head slightly. "Not this one."
Silence settled heavily between them again.
The city lights reflected across the table between them, fractured by crystal glasses and polished steel.
Then Nicole asked the question she already suspected the answer to.
"Did your father know about Greg?"
Toby hesitated.
Tiny.
But enough.
Nicole's expression went completely still.
"He did," she said quietly.
Toby exhaled once. "Not initially."
"But eventually."
"Yes."
"And he used it."
Another pause.
"Yes."
Nicole looked away briefly toward the skyline.
Not because she was overwhelmed.
Because she was recalculating everything all over again.
Greg hadn't become more dangerous on his own.
He'd been amplified.
Funded.
Positioned.
Someone smarter had weaponized him.
And Toby had known.
Maybe not from the beginning.
But long enough.
"That makes you worse than him," Nicole said softly.
Toby flinched almost invisibly.
"Nicole—"
"No," she interrupted quietly. "Greg wanted revenge. Your father wanted profit. And you…" Her eyes locked back onto his. "You wanted access."
The truth landed brutally clean between them.
For the first time since sitting down, Toby looked genuinely ashamed.
Nicole noticed.
It changed nothing.
"You should hate me," he admitted.
Nicole's voice remained calm.
"Hate requires emotional investment."
That one struck.
Hard.
Toby leaned back slowly, absorbing the damage.
"You don't mean that."
Nicole's expression never shifted.
"Don't tell yourself comforting lies just because you developed guilt."
Across the terrace, Chase saw Toby's face tighten and immediately started moving closer.
Not enough to interrupt.
Enough to intervene if necessary.
Nicole noticed him approaching from the corner of her eye but kept her attention on Toby.
"One last chance," she said quietly. "Tell me everything."
Toby looked at her for a long moment.
Then finally nodded.
"My father wants Ritter Global cornered before acquisition pressure peaks publicly. The stock drop was only phase one. Internal board fractures are already in motion."
"Daniel Hargrove."
"Yes."
Nicole's jaw tightened slightly.
"Who else?"
"I don't know all the names."
"That's not believable."
"It's true," Toby said firmly. "My father keeps circles separated intentionally."
Nicole studied him carefully.
He was telling the truth.
Or enough truth to matter.
"And Greg?" she asked.
Toby's expression darkened slightly. "He's becoming a problem."
Nicole almost smiled at that.
"Good."
Toby leaned forward one last time.
"You still don't understand how dangerous this is."
Nicole stood smoothly from her chair.
"No," she said quietly. "You just don't understand me."
Toby looked up at her as Chase finally reached the table.
Nicole picked up her coat slowly, gaze never leaving Toby's.
"This conversation is over."
"Nicole—"
"You made your choice," she interrupted.
Then, after the briefest pause:
"And now I make mine."
Without another word, she turned and walked away beside Chase, heels sharp against the polished terrace floor.
Toby remained seated at the table alone, watching her disappear into the glow of the city he suddenly realized might burn long before Nicole Ritter ever bent.