"Or we release everything." I pull out my phone, displaying the document Clover helped us compile. "Every complaint from every brewery. Every instance of suspicious timing. Every piece of evidence suggesting a pattern of intimidation and sabotage."
"To whom? The trade magazines?" Miller looks unimpressed. "Hardly world-changing."
"To the Securities and Exchange Commission," Wren says quietly. "And the Department of Justice."
The color drains from Miller's face. "You're bluffing."
"Pacific Northwest has been acquiring breweries at below-market values after systematic efforts to damage their operations and profitability," she continues. "That's not just unethical. It's potentially illegal."
"My lawyer thinks the SEC would be very interested in the way you go about acquiring businesses,” I add.
Miller's eyes dart between us. "You have nothing concrete."
"Maybe not yet," Wren agrees. "But an investigation would tie up Pacific Northwest for months, maybe years. And the professional investigators would really dig into every little crack and shadow. I can’t imagine your shareholders would like that."
"Not to mention what it would do to your stock price," I add. "News of a federal investigation tends to make investors nervous."
Miller's jaw tightens. For the first time since I've met him, he looks shaken.
"What do you want?" he asks finally.
"A public statement that Pacific Northwest is withdrawing from the Portland craft market," Wren says immediately. "And legally binding agreements not to approach any of our partner breweries for at least five years."
"That's ridiculous."
"Is it?" I lean back, crossing my arms. "Seems like a small price to pay to avoid a federal investigation."
The silence stretches between us. Miller stares at the folder, his bullshit facade cracking.
"I'll need to consult with our legal team," he says finally.
"You have twenty-four hours," Wren states. "After that, we go public."
The meeting ends shortly after. When Miller leaves, Wren waits until the door closes before sagging in her chair.
"You think he'll back off?" she asks, looking up at me and I get up and start rubbing her shoulders.
"He'd be stupid not to." I pull her to her feet, hands resting on her shoulders. "You were incredible."
She leans into me, her head on my chest. "Wewere incredible."
And just like that, another wall between us crumbles. The industry rival I spent years trying to outmaneuver is now mypartner in every sense—business, life, family. The woman who's carrying my son stood beside me today, and together we faced down a corporate giant.
And I think there’s a good chance we won.
"Let's go home," I say, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "You’re supposed to be on bed rest."
She looks up at me with those stormy eyes that I’ve been lost in for months. “Lead the way.”
The next day, I'm sitting in Banks's kitchen, trying to convince my best friend that I'm not completely losing my mind.
"You want to propose to a woman you're already married to?" Banks asks, adjusting Noble in his lap while we sit in his kitchen. The kid's gnawing on a teething ring, drooling everywhere. "That's like... what's that called?"
"Fucking romantic," I mutter, grabbing another beer from his fridge. "It's called being romantic, asshole."
"No, really, though." He shifts Noble to his other knee. "Why not just make the Vegas thing official? Put the ring on your finger and call it good?"
I pour myself a beer, staring into the amber liquid like it'll give me answers. "Because she deserves a real proposal. Not some drunk Elvis bullshit we can't even remember."
