Page 141 of Keller

"Vin doesn't need to be part of this conversation."

A pause. The faint sound of traffic filters through whatever window Ridge is near.

"He's gone. What do you want to say?"

I lean back in my chair. The leather creaks. Outside the glass, the city hums, distant and indifferent.

"Mercer isn't reckless. She's not malicious." I keep my voice even. "She found something that looked wrong and flagged it. That's her job. I won't participate in dismantling her life over it."

"You don't need to participate." Ridge's tone doesn't shift. "You were informed out of respect. Family courtesy. That's all."

"If you move forward with the smear strategy, I shut down the tables."

Silence.

I wait.

"Don't make this personal, Keller."

"This isn't personal." My jaw tightens, but I force it to relax. "This is about refusing to weaponize a woman's integrity for corporate insulation. There's a line, and I'm drawing it."

The silence stretches longer this time. I can picture Ridge in whatever office or car he's occupying. His hands are braced, his face unreadable.

"Do you love her?"

The question lands in my chest.

"No."

The word comes out too fast, too certain. It echoes in the quiet room.

The incompleteness of the answer hangs between us, pressing against my ribs. The denial rings louder because of the silence that follows it.

"Then why are you protecting her?"

"I'm not protecting her." I stare at the city beyond the glass. "I'm refusing to become a monster. There's a difference."

"You're not a monster if you protect your family and your legacy."

"I'm telling you, Ridge. Call off the dogs, or I shut down the tables."

Another pause. Longer.

"The tables represent eight figures of annual revenue and a decade of cultivated relationships. You want to lose that over a smear campaign that might not even matter? She's not the bad guy, here."

Ridge exhales. "We're moving forward."

I cut the call and set the phone on my desk. The screen dims and then goes dark.

I think about Quinn. The freckles across her nose. The way she laughed when I couldn't keep up during our run. The weight of her against me in the shower as I washed her hair.

I can't make an empty threat. I told him, and he called me. Now it's time to act.

I pick up the phone and dial West. He answers on the first ring.

"You never call twice in one day." His voice carries a note of concern. "What's wrong?"

"Everything." I press my palm against my forehead. "Cancel next week's game."