The Billionaire's Brat Wants Me

While Val and Lucien were having their little corporate sibling showdown over at Moreau Dynamics, we were busy fighting our own battle at Gray & Milton, one that had nothing to do with egos and everything to do with sabotage.

The Meridian Development Initiative team was gathered in the main conference room, a place that had begun to feel more like a war room than a workspace. The polished oak table reflected the blue projection light from the digital screen at the end of the room. Coffee cups, open laptops, and stacks of printed reports cluttered the space in that oddly organized way that only long-term teams could pull off.

Hale stood at the head of the table, hands in his pockets, calm but sharp-eyed as always. Ji-ho was next to him, flipping through a thin digital tablet that looked like it had been through at least three all-nighters. Tasha and Gabriel were deep in murmured conversation across from me, while Noah leaned back in his chair like he was trying to calculate how many hours of sleep he'd lost this week.

"Alright," Hale said, his tone carrying that low authority that made everyone instantly straighten. "Ji-ho, let's start with what IT found."

Ji-ho nodded and tapped his tablet, sending the report to the large screen behind Hale. Lines of code, timestamps, and access logs appeared.

"The internal investigation's wrapped up," Ji-ho said, scrolling down to a highlighted section. "IT traced the deletion of the Meridian files back to a system access point in our internal database. The signal came from a company-issued terminal registered to one of our own, Delvin Reese."

Gabriel frowned, leaning forward. "Delvin?"

Tasha blinked, the recognition hitting her next. "Wait, Delvin Reese? As in our IT security liaison? He's got mid-tier clearance."

"Upper mid," Ji-ho corrected. "Enough to access backup directories and encrypted server mirrors. Not enough to alter the master files, but enough to copy or delete project-specific datasets. Which, apparently, is exactly what he did."

The room went still. I leaned forward slightly. "So where's Delvin now?"

Hale's expression tightened just enough to give away that he'd been waiting for that question. "He's in police custody. HR and Legal got involved as soon as the trace came through. According to his statement, he was paid off by someone from Weldane Mechanics."

Tasha's brows rose. "Paid off?"

"Yeah," Hale said, pulling up another document. "Apparently, Evans Wesley, Finance Manager at Weldane, offered him a significant sum to erase our internal progress reports. Delvin admitted he didn't even understand what half of it was. Just that he was told to make sure it was unrecoverable."

Gabriel rubbed a hand down his face. "Jesus… Evans Wesley. He's the one who's always breathing down procurement's neck over cost projections."

"Same one," Hale confirmed. "Weldane's Project Director, Elias Ford, already contacted our execs this morning. Official apology, internal review, the whole PR sweep. He claimed Evans acted independently, without company authorization. Weldane's legal team says they'll 'handle it internally.'"

I frowned. "So in other words, they'll bury it."

Hale's mouth twitched in something between amusement and irritation. "Most likely. But the damage is done. The authorities are aware, and the federal review board overseeing Meridian has already been briefed."

Tasha tapped her pen against her notebook, brows furrowed. "Wouldn't that automatically disqualify Weldane? For interference or misconduct?"

I looked up at her. "Good point."

Hale gave a slow nod. "Exactly. The clause under Section 14C of the Meridian procurement policy states that any act of data tampering, espionage, or attempted manipulation, direct or indirect, by a participating firm or its affiliates results in immediate suspension pending investigation. So yes, Weldane's effectively out of the race."

A ripple of surprise moved through the team.

Noah straightened, the grin already forming on his face. "So that means our only real competition now is RT Industries, Dwayne Constructions, and Moreau Dynamics?"

"Pretty much," Hale said. "Weldane just shot themselves in the foot."

Ji-ho scrolled through his tablet again, bringing up a comparative chart of projected bids. "From the looks of it, we're ahead of RT and Dwayne in both infrastructure modeling and financial feasibility. The only company still matching us technically, and outperforming us in strategic proposals, is Moreau Dynamics."

The mention of her company brought that faint tightening in my chest I'd learned to ignore lately. Val had been crystal clear about keeping things separate. We were husband and wife at home, but on paper, we were competitors.

Hale gestured to the screen. "Ji-ho's right. RT Industries lacks our scalability. Dwayne's solid on groundwork but weak on sustainable finance projections. But Moreau…" He paused, glancing at me briefly. "They're strong. Very strong."

"Too strong to underestimate," I said quietly.

Everyone looked my way.

I leaned forward, elbows on the table. "We've been focusing on Weldane's underhanded move, but it's important we don't get comfortable. Moreau Dynamics has a clean record, their R&D output's aggressive, and if there's anything Val—" I caught myself, coughed lightly, and corrected. "—if there's anything their team is good at, it's adapting fast. You take your eye off them, and they'll turn your lead into a disadvantage overnight."

Hale pointed a finger toward me, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Exactly my point. Never underestimate the competition, especially one that knows how to recover momentum."

Ji-ho chuckled, glancing at me. "You sure you're not playing for the other side, Kai?"

The table erupted with soft laughter, even Hale allowing himself a brief grin.

I rolled my eyes, half-smiling. "Just calling it like it is. Besides, someone's gotta keep us from getting cocky."

Hale raised his mug slightly. "And that's why you're the Lead Financial Analyst."

The laughter carried for a moment longer before Hale's tone shifted back to business. "Alright. Here's what we're going to do moving forward. The servers have been fully patched and firewalled. All project-related files will now go through triple encryption and an approval chain requiring both Ji-ho and Kai's clearance. IT will also implement two-factor verification for departmental backups."

"Got it," Ji-ho said, typing notes into his tablet.

Tasha looked thoughtful. "And the presentation for the next review?"

"On schedule," Hale replied. "But I want everyone rechecking their numbers. We can't afford another slip, not even an innocent one. The next few weeks decide whether the Meridian Initiative becomes ours or not."

I nodded, already mentally reworking the budget summary I'd been compiling for the next client meeting.

"Any other questions?" Hale asked.

When no one spoke, he glanced at the wall clock. "Good. Let's wrap it up. I think we've all earned a few minutes of peace before lunch."

Chairs scraped back, the sound of zippers and tapping keys filling the brief silence that followed. Ji-ho stretched with a groan that made Gabriel snort.

"Peace?" Ji-ho muttered. "I forgot what that feels like."

"Tell that to the twelve coffee cups on your desk," Noah said.

Tasha chuckled, gathering her papers. "Don't listen to him. He's just jealous your caffeine tolerance's evolved into a superpower."

"Jealous?" Noah feigned offense. "I'm just trying to live long enough to retire before forty."

"Keep dreaming," Gabriel shot back.

The laughter returned, easy and familiar, the kind that reminded me why this team worked so well together. For all the pressure and deadlines, Hale's division wasn't just efficient; it was a family. A tired, sarcastic, overworked family, but a family nonetheless.

Weldane Mechanics might be out of the running, but that didn't mean the game was over. Far from it.

Because in this business, one company's downfall always meant another's opportunity, and the only question that mattered now was whose.

---

By the time I stepped out of the building, the evening sky was already starting to dim. The workday haze was settling, traffic humming, horns echoing faintly from the main road, people rushing toward lives that didn't involve code audits and project deadlines.

I loosened my tie and exhaled, heading toward the parking lot. Just as I reached my car, my phone started vibrating in my pocket.

Naomi.

I smiled without realizing it and swiped to answer.

"Hey, stranger," she said, voice bright and teasing. "You still remember how to pick up your phone?"

I laughed under my breath. "I was about to call you, actually."

] "Uh-huh. And I was about to win the lottery."

I opened the car door and sank into the seat. "Wow. That's how it's gonna be?"

"That's how it's always gonna be," she shot back, playful and smooth as ever. "Do you even know the last time we spoke that wasn't through text?"

I made a show of thinking. "Last week?"

She snorted. "Try last month."

"Can't be."

"Oh, it can." There was a faint sound of her shifting something—probably putting one of her twins to bed. "You barely call, you hardly visit… at this point, I'm starting to think I imagined having a little brother."

I chuckled. "You did call me little first. Don't forget that part."

] "Because you were little. Now you're just… a taller version of the same stubborn kid who never calls."

I started the car, the soft hum of the engine mixing with her laughter. "In my defense," I said, feigning seriousness, "I've been buried under deadlines. You know how the company's been since the Meridian project started."

She made a skeptical sound. "Oh, please. Don't think you can hide behind fancy corporate excuses. The last time you visited was when I gave birth, and that was four years ago, Kai. Four. Years."

I winced, though I was smiling. "Was it really four? No way."

"Yes way," she said, dragging the words with mock exasperation. "You showed up, held the babies for five minutes, said something dramatic about how small humans shouldn't have that much power in their lungs, and then disappeared."

I laughed outright at that. "That sounds like me, yeah."

"Hey, you're not exactly a regular visitor yourself," I said, pulling out of the lot and merging into the evening traffic. "When was the last time you came down here?"

] "I have two kids and a husband who travels for work, Kai. My schedule isn't built for spontaneous road trips."

"Ah, the old 'family card.' Classic."

"Don't you dare," she warned, but I could hear the smile in her voice.

For a moment, the car filled with her soft chuckle and the distant hum of city noise. Then her tone shifted, gentler, quieter.

"You should come by soon," she said. "They'd love to see you. And I'd love to see Celestia again too. It's been… what, two years since the wedding?"

"Yeah," I said, slowing at a red light. "Something like that."

] "She still makes you coffee the same way?"

I smiled faintly. "Still pretends it's not decaf."

Naomi laughed, the kind that came from the chest—genuine, warm. "Good. I like her. She's got that calm, terrifying energy that makes you behave without realizing it."

"That's one way to describe her."

"So," she continued, "you'll visit soon, right? This weekend, maybe?"

I hesitated, tapping the steering wheel lightly. "I'll… make out time."

] "Promise?"

I glanced at the rearview mirror, smirking. "Uh…"

"Kai," she said, tone warning.

I sighed, giving in. "I'll run it by Val first and get back to you, okay?"

"Fine," she said, mock-defeated. "I'll wait for your call."

I could hear faint sounds in the background—small footsteps, something clattering, her muffled voice calling out, "No, not that one—use your own cup, sweetheart."

When she came back on, her voice had softened again. "Anyway… take care of yourself, Kai. Don't get too lost in all that company chaos."

"I won't."

] "Good. Tell Celestia I said hi."

"Will do."

] "Alright, talk soon."

"Yeah. Night, sis."

] "Night, little brother."

The call ended, and for a few seconds, I just sat there with the phone still in my hand, the faint echo of her laugh lingering through the speakers.

Naomi had a way of grounding me. She never cared much for the business world, never fully understood why I worked the way I did, but she never judged it either. She'd seen me through the late nights, the exams, the move to the city, the quiet in-between years before Val came back into my life.

And now here we were. She had a family. I had one of my own. Different, but somehow parallel.

I set the phone aside and pulled back onto the road. My mind drifted as I drove, tracing the years between who we were and who we'd become.

I remembered the wedding, how Naomi laughed through her vows, confident and radiant. I'd stood beside her husband, holding the rings, already understanding how it felt to have someone like that in your life, because I had Val.

When she'd told me she was pregnant, I'd been knee-deep in final-year projects. She'd sent me a picture of the ultrasound and called it 'proof that miracles have loud heartbeats.' I hadn't understood it then. But when I'd finally gone to see her—when I'd held those tiny babies in my arms—I'd gotten it. That fragile, fierce kind of love that rearranges your priorities whether you want it to or not.

And somehow, I hadn't visited since.

I shook my head, half amused, half guilty. Life had a way of blurring time. Between deadlines, meetings, and whatever new storm was brewing at Gray & Milton, the years just… slipped through.

Maybe I would take that trip this weekend.

By the time I pulled into the driveway, the weight of the day had started to ease.

Family. Work. Val.

Sometimes it all felt like balancing equations that didn't quite add up, but maybe that was the point. You never stopped balancing. You just learned to live between the variables.

With that thought, I grabbed my bag, stepped out, and headed toward the house.

---

To be continued...