16. Kyle Tearing Himself Apart
Kyle: Tearing Himself Apart
She doesn’t look back.
Leslie walks out of the conference room with her head high, her shoulders stiff, her movements controlled—but I see the way her fingers tremble as she clutches her bag.
I see the way her breath shakes when she walks through the door, like she’s barely holding herself together.
And I did that to her.
I grip the edge of the table, forcing myself to stay seated, even though every part of me wants to get up, go after her, and fix this.
But it’s too late.
The door swings shut behind her, and the conference room fills with murmurs. I don’t hear a single word. My pulse pounds in my ears, drowning everything else out.
I made my choice. I did what I had to do.
So why does it feel like I just ripped out my own heart?
I push back my chair and stand. "Meeting’s over."
"Kyle—"
"I said it’s over."
Without waiting for a response, I walk out.
The office is unusually quiet. Conversations stop the second I step into the hallway. Employees who had been whispering quickly lower their heads, pretending to be busy. No one meets my eyes.
They know.
The rumors have already started. They’re watching me, waiting to see how I’ll react.
I keep my face blank and continue walking.
When I pass Leslie’s office, I slow down. The door is open, the desk empty. Her coffee cup from this morning is still there, untouched. The chair is slightly pulled back, like she stood up in a hurry.
Like she hadn’t expected this to happen.
A tight, painful feeling grips my chest.
This was her place. Now, it feels wrong. Like the air’s been sucked out of the room.
I clench my jaw and move along. Stopping won’t change anything.
By the time I reach my office, my body is tense. My head is a mess. I can’t sit down. I pace the room, running a hand through my hair, but the restlessness won’t go away.
Then I turn toward the floor-to-ceiling glass wall.
And I see her.
She’s in her car, gripping the steering wheel like she’s trying to hold herself together. Then she lowers her head, and her shoulders start to shake.
My stomach drops.
Something inside me cracks, and for a moment, I can’t breathe.
This doesn’t feel real.
Any second now, she’ll walk into my office, arms crossed, teasing me about my tea obsession, arguing with me over some decision like she always does.
But she won’t.
She’s down there. Alone. Breaking.
And I did that to her.
Or did she do this to herself?
The thought hits hard, and I hate that I don’t know the answer.
I curl my hands into fists, my nails digging into my palms.
I should have protected her. I should have believed her.
But I couldn’t. Not with everything at stake. The board was already questioning me, waiting for me to show weakness. If I had defended her without proof, they would have turned against me.
And if she really did betray me—if she really was working with Anthony Reeves—then I would have handed her the weapon to take me down.
I close my eyes for a second, but all I see is the first time I met her.
That damn parking lot.
How she drove right in front of me—straight into my reserved spot—like she owned the place. And when I honked? She didn’t even flinch. Just stepped out, looking completely unbothered.
No apology. No hesitation.
Just attitude.
And when I pointed out that she’d taken my spot?
She folded her arms, cocked a hip, and hit me with “Didn’t see a nameplate.”
Like that was supposed to excuse it.
And the worst part? She didn’t back down. She held her ground, completely unfazed—by me, by the argument, by the fact that she was dead wrong.
And damn, I respected her for it.
She was smart. Tough. Fierce. Loving.
And I just destroyed her.
Or maybe—just maybe—she destroyed me first.
Through the glass, I see her lift her head and wipe her face. She grips the wheel tighter, like she’s forcing herself to hold it together.
She looks small sitting there.
So alone.
A sharp knock at my office door snaps me back.
I take a breath, forcing my expression to stay blank. "Come in."
The door swings open, and Daniel steps inside, closing it behind him. He takes one look at me—standing rigid by the glass wall, my fists clenched at my sides—then exhales sharply.
"Tell me you’re not standing here, contemplating something stupid over a woman." His tone is dry, but there’s an edge to it.
I don’t answer.
Daniel sighs and walks further into the office, stopping a few feet away from me. His gaze follows mine, and then he sees her.
Leslie.
Still in her car, still gripping the steering wheel like it’s the only thing keeping her together.
Daniel watches for a moment before turning to me. "Do you believe her?"
I keep my face blank. "She said it’s a setup."
"And you think she’s telling the truth?"
Silence stretches between us.
Daniel scoffs. "Kyle, come on. You saw the evidence. You saw the emails. The meeting with Reeves. The goddamn security footage. What more do you need?"
I clench my jaw. "None of it proves she was actually working with him."
"None of it proves she wasn’t."
I exhale slowly, pressing a hand to the back of my neck. My thoughts are a mess.
I want to believe her.
I want to believe that the woman I trusted—the woman I let in—isn’t the same one who’s been feeding Reeves information.
But the evidence is damning.
Daniel shakes his head. "Look, I get it. She’s smart, she’s capable, she’s—" He pauses, his voice quieter when he continues. "She got under your skin."
I stay silent.
Daniel studies me for a second, then folds his arms. "Do you love her?"
The words hit like a punch to the gut.
I keep my face blank. "That doesn’t matter."
Daniel laughs under his breath. "That’s not a no."
I glare at him. "I said it doesn’t matter."
"Of course it matters." He gestures toward the glass wall. "Look at you. You’re standing here, watching her like some tortured asshole in a tragic movie, tearing yourself apart over her."
I turn away from the window. "I’m not—"
Daniel cuts me off. "I warned you, didn’t I?" His voice is firm. "From the start, I told you getting involved with her would be a mistake. And now, here we are."
He gestures around the room. "Your company’s at risk, your reputation is on the line, and you’re standing here like a man who doesn’t know whether to fight or walk away."
I say nothing.
Because he’s right.
Daniel exhales, rubbing the back of his neck. "Look, I know this is a mess. I know this isn’t easy for you. But you need to start thinking with your head again, not whatever part of you is still hoping she’s innocent."
I run a hand over my face, the weight of everything pressing down on me.
Daniel smirks suddenly. "You know what? I never thought I’d see the day."
I frown. "The day for what?"
He shrugs. "The day Kyle Donovan, ruthless CEO, the man who doesn’t blink when firing someone, turns into a brooding, lovesick fool over a woman."
I shoot him a glare. "I’m not—"
"Oh, please," he interrupts, his smirk widening. "You’re standing here staring out a damn window like a woman watching her lover board a ship to war."
"Shut up, Daniel."
"But it’s adorable," he continues, ignoring me. "Really. I should have recorded this moment. You, the man who scoffs at emotions, standing here, sighing dramatically, debating whether your heart or your brain should win."
I level him with a warning look. "I will throw you out of my office."
"And yet you haven’t moved," he points out, grinning.
I exhale sharply, my patience thinning. "I just want the truth."
Daniel’s teasing fades slightly, and his expression turns serious again. "Then you need to face facts. The evidence isn’t in her favor."
I shake my head, turning back toward the window. Leslie’s still there. Still gripping the wheel. Still looking like she’s barely holding it together.
And it kills me.
Because I don’t know if I should feel guilty or relieved.
Daniel steps closer, his tone softer now. "Kyle. You’ve spent years building this company. You know better than anyone that emotions and business don’t mix. If she’s guilty, and you let her off the hook because you have feelings for her, you’re risking everything."
I press my lips into a thin line. "And if she’s innocent, and I let her take the fall?"
Daniel doesn’t answer right away. "Then that’s something you’ll have to live with."
My chest tightens.
Because either way, I lose.
I exhale, running a hand through my hair, frustration burning through me. "I need proof. Real proof. Not just speculation."
Daniel watches me for a moment, then reaches into his pocket, pulling out a small white envelope.
With a flick of his wrist, he tosses it to me.
"Maybe this might give us some clues," he says.
I catch it easily and frown. My name—just Kyle—is written in clear, bold letters on the front. No sender. No other markings.
"What is this?" I ask.
Daniel shrugs. "Found it on my desk when I walked in. No idea who left it."
A strange feeling settles in my gut. Slowly, I tear open the envelope. A small USB drive slides into my palm.
I stare at it for a second, then glance at Daniel. "No note?"
"Nope." His expression is unreadable, but his eyes flick to the USB. "Well? You gonna see what’s on it, or just stand there looking dramatic?"
I exhale sharply, gripping the tiny device. Who sent me this? What do they want?
Beside me, Daniel tilts his head. "Think it’s some love confession?" His lips twitch. "Or maybe Leslie left you a heartfelt goodbye video."
I shoot him a look. "Shut up."
He smirks but doesn’t push further.
I roll the USB between my fingers, my mind racing. This could be anything. A setup. A message. A trap.
Or it could be the truth.
Either way, I have to know.
With a final glance at Leslie’s car, I turn toward my desk, gripping the USB like it holds all the answers.
"Let’s see if this changes everything."