Chapter Text
Lucy didn’t plan it.
It wasn’t some dramatic declaration, or a carefully thought-out decision born from weeks of observation. It happened the way most of her important choices did - in the middle of something small, unimportant, almost stupid.
She was in the kitchen, again.
Three bowls on the counter. Flour on her hands. A failed attempt at macarons sitting in sad, cracked halves on a tray.
Tim walked in mid-call, already frowning at his phone.
Lucy watched him for a moment - the way his shoulders were tense even when he wasn’t actively talking, the way his mind always seemed elsewhere, working through problems she wasn’t allowed to see.
And suddenly, without filtering it first, she said:
“Do you need help?”
Tim blinked. “What.”
She turned to face him properly. “With… all this. Your work. Your business.”
He stared at her like she’d just suggested joining a hit squad.
“No.”
The answer was immediate. Instinctive.
Lucy frowned. “You didn’t even let me finish.”
“I don’t need help,” he said.
“That’s not what I asked.”
Tim sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Lucy, you don’t need to involve yourself in this.”
“Why not?”
“Because,” he said, carefully, “you have better things to do.”
Lucy looked around the kitchen.
At the empty counters.
At the unused ovens.
At the quiet house that swallowed her whole every day.
“Do I?” she asked.
Tim hesitated.
She gestured vaguely at herself. “My life right now is literally gym, bake, sleep, repeat. Occasionally read something existential. That’s it.”
“That’s not a bad life,” he said.
“It’s not a life,” she shot back. “It’s a routine.”
Tim opened his mouth, then closed it again.
Lucy stepped closer. “I’m not asking to run anything. I just… want to help. I know how this world works. I grew up in it.”
He went still.
That hit closer to something he didn’t want to think about.
“Exactly,” he said. “Which is why you should stay out of it.”
Lucy stared at him. “Why are you so determined to keep me useless?”
“I’m not.”
“Yes, you are. You’re treating me like I’m fragile.”
“That’s not-”
“Or like I’m a liability.”
That one landed.
Tim’s jaw tightened. “You are not a liability.”
“Then let me do something.”
He looked at her.
Really looked at her.
Not the mafia princess. Not the political pawn. Just a person standing in his kitchen, bored and restless and clearly capable of more than he was letting her be.
And that scared him more than any threat ever had.
“No,” he said again. “It’s not safe.”
Lucy scoffed. “My entire childhood wasn’t safe.”
He didn’t respond.
Because he couldn’t argue with that.
Angela found him an hour later in his office, pacing.
“She wants to help,” Tim said flatly.
Angela raised an eyebrow. “And that’s a problem because?”
“Because she’s Lucy Chen.”
“Right. And she’s also bored out of her mind.”
Tim stopped pacing. “She can’t be in meetings.”
Angela leaned against the desk. “Why?”
“Because she might find out what I’m doing.”
Angela didn’t pretend not to understand.
“You’re already using her information,” she said quietly. “You’re just not letting her use her brain.”
Tim shot her a look. “This isn’t funny.”
“I’m not joking.”
He exhaled sharply. “She’s smart. Too smart. She’ll notice patterns.”
“So manage the information flow.”
“She’ll connect dots.”
“Then don’t give her the dots.”
Tim stared at the floor.
Angela crossed her arms. “Let her sit in one meeting. Just one. We’ll brief the team. No Chen-related topics. No slip-ups.”
“And if someone messes up?”
“They won’t.”
“You’re gambling with a lot.”
Angela softened her tone. “You’re already gambling. You just don’t want to admit you like her being here.”
Tim looked at her sharply.
Angela smirked. “Humour her once. Worst case? She gets bored. Best case? She actually helps.”
He didn’t answer immediately.
Which, for Tim Bradford, meant the argument was already lost.
-
The conference room felt different with Lucy in it.
Not because she changed the room.
Because she changed the energy.
She sat at the table between Angela and a man she didn’t recognise - tall, broad-shouldered, sharp eyes.
Miles Penn, Tim’s logistics lead.
Lucy wore simple clothes. Nothing dramatic. No attempt to look intimidating. Just… present.
Tim stood at the head of the table, arms crossed, posture rigid.
He felt exposed.
Which was ridiculous. This was his world. His territory. His people.
And yet, with Lucy sitting there, it felt like he’d let something private bleed into something dangerous.
Angela opened the meeting.
They discussed shipping. Distribution. A rival group moving into one of Dominion’s zones.
Lucy listened.
Really listened.
Not fidgeting. Not zoning out.
Her eyes moved from speaker to speaker, tracking information, building an invisible map in her head.
Tim noticed when she started tapping her finger against the table.
Thinking.
Angela finished her overview. “Any ideas?”
Lucy hesitated. Then raised her hand slightly, like she was in class.
The room stilled.
Tim’s men exchanged glances.
Tim frowned. “You don’t have to-”
“Actually,” Lucy said gently, “I think you’re approaching this backwards.”
Every head turned to her.
Miles leaned back. “Oh?”
She nodded, gesturing to the screen. “You’re trying to secure the routes after the rival group moves in. But why not destabilise their suppliers first?”
Silence.
Lucy continued, warming to it. “They rely on third-party contractors. If you target those contracts - not violently, just financially - you cut their access before they even establish a presence.”
Angela’s eyes lit up.
“That’s… actually smart,” Miles said.
Lucy shrugged. “My mom used to do it all the time.”
Tim’s stomach twisted at the mention of Vanessa Chen.
But Lucy kept going.
“You’re playing defence. You should be playing pre-emptive offence.”
No one spoke for a second.
Then Miles let out a low whistle. “Damn. That’s good.”
Tim felt something sharp and unexpected in his chest.
Pride.
And immediately after it - irritation.
Miles looked at Lucy with genuine admiration. “You should be running this place.”
Tim shot him a glare that could’ve ended careers.
Miles immediately shut up.
Lucy noticed.
She glanced at Tim, then smirked.
“Oh my god, stop being such a grump.”
And then - before Tim could react - she nudged his arm.
Light. Casual. Almost playful.
The room froze.
Dead silence.
Every single man at the table stared at her like she’d just committed a crime.
Nobody touched Tim Bradford.
Nobody.
Lucy slowly looked around.
“What?” she said.
Tim felt about twelve pairs of eyes on him.
His jaw clenched.
He grunted. “Continue.”
The meeting resumed like nothing had happened.
But nothing felt normal again.
Angela leaned back in her chair, lips twitching.
Tim didn’t look at Lucy.
But he could feel her presence beside him now in a way he hadn’t before.
Not as a guest.
Not as a liability.
As someone who belonged in the room.
And that terrified him more than any enemy ever could.