Evans met his gaze squarely. "I’m saying you’d be foolish not to go for this."

The lie rolled easily off his tongue. Because this wasn’t about business. It was about Ivy. About the terror in her eyes when she begged him to spare Winn’s project.

He could still hear her voice now, echoing in his head: "I’ll do anything you want."

And now, here he was, turning down a multibillion-dollar deal to protect her heart and her man.

"Mr. Everest," Bernard began, leaning forward, his elbows resting on the table. "A few months ago, the media raised serious concerns about trusting Mr. Kane with an investment as massive as that. We are planning on investing—individually, mind you—billions of euros. That’s not something we toss around lightly." He adjusted his tie.

"If your own city doesn’t trust Mr. Kane to handle this level of financial responsibility, why should we? And, honestly..." He paused, letting his gaze rake over Evans, the controlled stillness in his posture. "I’m surprised you aren’t jumping at this opportunity. It’s unlike you, Mr. Everest. Is there something we should know?"

Evans inhaled deeply, his smile faint. "I feel for Mr. Kane’s situation," Evans said finally. "I know how hard he’s worked. I know what he was willing to sacrifice for this project." His gaze softened for a fraction of a second. "It’s not his fault his fiancée left him at the altar."

Willem tilted his head, curiosity gleaming in his eyes. "We feel the same way, Mr. Everest. But business is business," he said. "And business cannot be run on sentiments."

Evans’s lips quirked at that. "True that," he murmured, leaning back in his chair. His gaze flicked between them.

Family first, he thought grimly.

"How about this?" Evans said, straightening in his chair. "How about I bring the stability to the table and Winn brings his ideas. Everest partners up with House of Kane on this particular project."

The reaction was instant. Bernard blinked in surprise, Simon exchanged a sharp glance with Willem.

"You’re suggesting a joint venture?" Simon asked skeptically.

"Look, you’ll get your security. Kane handles the creative and design. Everyone wins."

Bernard chuckled. "You’re either mad, or a genius."

The men spoke rapidly in Dutch as they exchanged looks across the table. Simon ran a hand through his salt-and-pepper hair, muttering a few sharp words to Bernard that made him snort. After a few more clipped exchanges, they turned back to Evans. "Fine," Simon said finally. "We will discuss this with Mr. Kane when he arrives."

"Actually," Evans said, "he is already here."

Bernard’s head snapped up, eyes gleaming. "Oh, splendid!" he exclaimed. He reached for the black table phone and dialed the receptionist on the conference floor. "Yes, please send Mr. Kane in," he said.

A few moments later, the doors swung open, and Joey and Winn walked in. His jaw tightened the instant his gaze landed on Evans.

Bernard brought them up to speed as soon as they sat down.

"No fucking way!" Winn thundered before Bernard could finish. His eyes blazed. "You’ve lost your goddamn minds if you think I’m partnering with him."

"Winn?" Joey said softly. "Can we discuss this?"

"Discuss?" Winn snapped, spinning toward him. "There’s nothing to discuss, Joey. I’m not working with this lunatic." He jabbed a finger toward Evans, who hadn’t moved a muscle. "I’m not letting him anywhere near House of Kane. He’s a snake."

"You always were dramatic, Winn."

Bernard tried to step in. "Winn, please, let’s be reasonable—this could save the entire project."

"I don’t want to save it this way!" Winn exploded, running a hand through his hair. "I built House of Kane from blood and sweat. I gave up everything for it—my peace, my sanity. And now you want me to hand it over to him?"

"I don’t want House of Kane..." Evans made a face.

"You know what? It doesn’t matter. I’ll bring Kane Designer Mall to life or die trying. I don’t need this."

He turned on his heel and stormed toward the door. The doors slammed behind him.

Joey got to his feet, straightening his jacket. "I’ll get back to you," he said to Evans. "Please keep the offer on the table."

Evans gave a slow nod.

"He is still quite sore from the heartbreak. Give him time," Evans said. The investors each wearing the same polished indifference that came with obscene wealth said nothing. "Let me know what his final response is," he continued. "Then I can make a final decision."

"Of course," Simon said.

Evans gave them a smooth smile. "Have a good day, gentlemen."

*****

A week later, Winn was having dinner with his parents.

Winn barely tasted his food as he chewed. The silence at the table had stretched for too long, filled only by the gentle clinking of silverware. Finally, he set down his fork and asked the question that had been gnawing at him all week. "Is there a reason Sylvia has been avoiding both of you?"

His mother, Anna, froze mid-bite, her eyes flying to Winn. Tom simply kept eating.

"She’s avoiding us?" Anna said finally.

"She hasn’t been here in a while," Winn continued. "Every time I tell her to come with me, she refuses. She gives some excuse." He turned to his father, his gaze sharp. "Did you do something to her?"

Tom’s knife paused mid-slice. He looked up, his eyes flat and cold, a reflection of power long accustomed to not being questioned. "And what if I did?" he said. "I am her father. Whatever I do, I do with love."

Anna’s lips parted. "Tom—" she started, but he cut her off with a glare that made her shrink back in her seat.

Winn leaned forward, jaw tightening. "I know what your love feels like, Dad."

Tom finally set his cutlery down with a soft clink. He dabbed at his mouth with his napkin. "Tell me," he said, his lips curling into a faint, cruel smile. "How does it feel to be a failure, huh?"