Chapter 9 Emma
Chapter nine
Emma
Walking into Elion felt like coming home to a house that no longer belonged to me.
The lobby was the same—same sleek lines, same logo etched into the glass, same security guard who waved me through with a familiar smile. But the air had shifted.
Friday mornings used to be mine. The coffee and danish Sarah always brought, waiting beside my computer.
The calm before the chaos, when I could think without interruption.
Now I was a visitor in my own company, badge still valid but authority diluted—split between two worlds that didn't quite fit together.
I found them in the third-floor conference room—my conference room, though I supposed it wasn't anymore. Kevin had his feet up on the table, tablet balanced on his knee. David was buried in a stack of contracts, pen tucked behind his ear. And Jennifer...
Jennifer was watching the door like she'd been waiting for me.
"There she is," Kevin announced, swinging his feet down. "The prodigal CEO returns."
I rolled my eyes but smiled regardless. "I was gone a week, Kevin."
"Felt longer." He grinned, stretching back in his chair. "Place falls apart without you. David's been stress-eating. Jennifer's been stress-organizing. I've been stress-napping."
"So business as usual," I said.
David snorted without looking up from his contracts.
I set my bag on the table and pulled out the chair at the head—force of habit—before catching myself. I wasn't running this meeting. I wasn't running anything here anymore.
I sat anyway. Old instincts die hard.
"How's everything holding up?" I asked, scanning their faces. "Any fires I should know about?"
"Nothing we couldn't handle," Jennifer said curtly, flipping a page. "Integration paperwork is moving. Legal's reviewing the final employment contracts. Standard stuff."
Her tone. That wasn't the voice she normally used. My brows drew together, but I kept moving.
"Good. That's good." I turned to Kevin. "Did Marcie end up liking the ballet shoes?"
"You mean the ballet shoes Kevin never paid me back for?" she snapped, finally looking up to glare at Kevin.
He winced, rubbing the back of his head. "Yeah … sorry about that. I forgot."
"I reminded you about it for a week straight!"
"Things have been busy," Kevin tried.
"You just got done telling Emma things were fine." She flipped another page—hard. "Pick a side."
David glanced at her sideways, catching the agitation in every word, then at me.
As close to calling someone out as David was physically capable of.
Kevin froze—long-marriage survival instincts kicking in.
Angry woman, freeze. Apologize. He'd explained the tactic to me over a beer one night when his wife had kicked him out for forgetting their anniversary. Something he made sure to never do again.
"Um…" I started. "If that's all—"
The overhead lights were harsher than I remembered, the room colder than it used to be, bright enough to make the table's glossy surface glare.
"Actually, Emma. I wanted to ask you something."
The air in the room shifted. Kevin's grin faded. David finally looked up from his contracts.
"Of course," I said, keeping my voice level. "What's on your mind?"
She looked around the room, meeting Kevin and David's stares in warning.
"I'd like a private word."
Kevin scrambled for his things like a madman, David no better. The two of them rushed to the door, Kevin dropped his favorite fountain pen but didn't come back for it. One foot already through the door.
Jennifer tilted her head, studying me with the same focus she brought to hostile negotiations. "The Davidson situation."
I stiffened. "What about it?"
"The official story is that he leaked manipulated numbers. Doctored documents designed to tank the merger and make Elion look weaker than it was." She paused. "That's what Falkirk's PR team is pushing. That's what the press ran with."
"Right," I said carefully.
She met me head-on. "And that's bullshit." She leaned forward, finger pointing at me. "You know it and so do I."
My face went cold. So did my hands. Every instinct suddenly cataloging the woman in front of me—not as a friend, but as a threat. One that could eat me alive.
I didn't answer. Couldn't.
"Well?" she pressed. Mouth set in a wire-thin line.
I looked down, clicking my lacquered nails against each other in my lap like a schoolgirl who'd just been caught cheating.
"I don't know what to say."
Her bottom lip quivered. "Tell me the truth, Emma."
My mind raced, searching for a solution. An answer for something I was still questioning myself.
"I don't know," I said, raising my head. "Honestly. I don't."
She shook her head, hurt etched across her face.
"I know it isn't good enough and I wish I had more," I murmured. "But it's all I have."
"That doesn't make me feel any better."
I nodded. "I know."
Her shoulders slumped. "I thought you trusted me more than this."
"I do—" I blurted, reaching for the hurt I knew I wouldn't be able to soothe.
"No," she whispered, voice cracking. "You don't."
And in that moment I wanted to tell her everything. Damien and I. How he'd protected me. Protected her. Protected Elion. But I couldn't. Not yet.
I closed my eyes, drawing a breath that came too tight.
"I can't tell you everything, Jennifer." I opened my eyes, meeting hers. "But I can promise you two things."
I held up a finger. "The first—I promise I will. I'll tell you everything. Everything I possibly can. But I can't today. And I need you to trust me on this."
It wasn't a lie, but it wasn't the whole truth either—and I hated what it made me.
She blanched, mouth opening, words on her tongue. But I continued, raising a second finger.
"And secondly, I can promise you that Elion is safe. You are safe. David, Kevin, Sarah—everyone is safe."
I remembered Damien's promises to always protect me. I lifted my chin.
"And so am I."
Silence thickened around us. She didn't look away, didn't blink, didn't flinch. Just like I knew she wouldn't.
I tried to match her, the intensity she brought to the room, and prayed I stacked up.
"Fine," she breathed. "But I won't wait long."
The pressure in my chest eased—barely.
"You won't have to."
She held my gaze a moment longer—weighing, deciding—then gathered her things and left without another word.
The door clicked shut. I sat alone in the conference room that used to be mine, the weight of secrets pressing in.