Chapter 28
* * *
Emma
“Good morning,” I greeted Harold, tighter than intended—nerves for the meeting tangling with too many unanswered questions.
Damien had called eight times.
Texted a dozen.
The progression had been painfully clear—concern, worry, confusion, then something close to panic.
I’d thrown him the only lifeline I could manage: I’m fine.
But the messages kept coming.
He knows he can’t talk his way out of it anymore, the voice hissed.
Anger that had been simmering since my conversation with Ava had ignited into a full flame, then a bonfire as I lay alone in my bed. The silence magnified every whisper in my head, every old reflex, every fear I hadn’t dared name.
The ride passed in quiet efficiency—emails, meeting prep, little fires I put out on instinct while the real one smoldered at the back of my mind.
Ten minutes later, Harold pulled up outside Falkirk’s building. Jennifer, David, and Kevin waited just inside the lobby, coffees in hand and purpose in their posture.
My heels clicked against the marble as I stepped inside.
“Hey,” Jennifer said as I stepped in.
“Ready for today?”
Their expressions answered before their voices did.
I briefed them quickly on our new plan of attack. Their faces lit up.
Kevin’s eyes went wide. “Genius.”
Jennifer’s smile turned sharp. “Hell yeah.”
David nodded once, already running legal contingencies in the back of his mind.
The elevator carried us to Falkirk’s executive floor. My heartbeat matched each soft chime, the pressure inside me rising with every step.
Through the glass, I saw Damien at the head of the table—charcoal suit, commanding posture, mask firmly in place. But vein pulsing at his temple, the tightness around his eyes… those were for me alone.
Or rather—for my absence.
The questions and the accusations burned at the back of my throat, but I swallowed them down. Not here. Not now.
There would be time later—after the meeting, after the performance we both had to give.
I smoothed my skirt and stepped inside.
Damien rose instantly. Concern flickered before he smothered it with professionalism. “Ms. Sinclair.”
“Mr. Holt,” I returned coolly.
A tiny shift in him—shoulders drawing in, breath catching for half a second. Most people wouldn’t have noticed. I did.
Maria smiled warmly. “Ms. Sinclair, good to see you again.”
“You, too,” I said, then turned to Tessa. “Congratulations again. How are you feeling?”
“Large and tired,” she laughed, rubbing her bump. “But good.”
Before I could respond, Nathan Bell slithered through the doorway, practiced and polished. He wore the same smug, too-bright expression, like civility was a costume that never quite fit. “Ms. Sinclair.” “Mr. Bell,” I said.
He blinked, then extended his hand.
I took it with a sugary-sweet smile that made me want to gag. “Always a pleasure.”
“It’s nice to see you as well.”
Damien’s grip on the chair arm went white-knuckled. Every line of him pulling taut.
Nathan must have seen it, too, because his grin widened ever so slightly before he finally turned toward his own seat.
“Shall we get started?” I asked, settling into my seat.
Damien sat opposite me, eyes scanning my face with a thousand unspoken questions. The frustration in him was palpable—tight, acidic, scraping under the surface.
“By all means.” The edge in his voice didn’t match the words.
The tension in the room shifted, subtle but unmistakable—the battle lines redrawn without a single word of open defiance.
“Let’s begin with operational oversight.” His voice stayed level but commanding. “Specifically, how management and decision-making will be divided. Elion has the technical infrastructure, but Falkirk holds broader administrative resources. It’s a delicate balance.”
Jennifer’s head lifted. Kevin leaned forward slightly, attention focused. Tessa folded her hands, her posture too still to be casual.
“Delicate?” Nathan repeated, a scoff thinly disguised as amusement. “Falkirk’s leadership isn’t delicate, it’s definitive. Elion won’t be heard without parading under Falkirk’s banner.”
Maria’s jaw twitched. Kevin’s eye twitched. Jennifer’s entire soul twitched.
I forced a slow breath through my nose, lowering my gaze like I was conceding.
“You’re right.” I kept my tone agreeable.
“Falkirk’s reach is extensive.” A deliberate pause—just long enough to look thoughtful, humble.
“But Elion’s efficiency rates in the last two quarters have outpaced Falkirk’s by almost eight percent.
We may not have the same size.” I lifted my eyes, just enough to catch his. “But we’re scaling quickly.”
That got their attention.
Damien’s brows tightened.
I continued, “I believe Elion is best suited to lead the technical integration.”
Nathan barked a laugh. “You? Equal influence? A grain of sand wanting to be the beach?”
Kevin flinched. Jennifer’s brows pinched, a flash of disbelief before she masked it behind professionalism.
Damien turned hard toward Nathan, tone cutting as flint. “That’s uncalled for.”
I didn’t look to him, I couldn’t stand it. Even David looked up now, eyes darting between them. Tessa’s attention slid to Maria, a subtle, wordless exchange passing between them.
I lifted my hand, calm, collected, performing damage control that wasn’t really damage at all. “And what’s so wrong with that?” I tilted my head, feigning genuine confusion.
He scoffed, leaning back in his chair. “What’s wrong with it?” His smirk was pure derision. “That simply isn’t how business is done.” He turned to Damien, pointing a finger toward me. “Actually, if this is how Elion comes to the negotiating table, then maybe our discussion here is over.”
Jennifer froze mid-breath. David started to speak, but I beat him to it, stepping neatly into the silence with a carefully crafted look of surprise.
“Sorry, that isn’t what I meant…” I said, letting a self-deprecating laugh smooth the edges of the moment. “I didn’t mean to offend anyone.”
Beside him, Damien’s jaw tightened. “Ms. Sinclair, there’s nothing unreasonable about parity.”
“In this instance there is,” Nathan blurted, face heating.
“What’s unreasonable,” Damien said, voice lethal, “is assuming experience only counts when it’s yours.”
Maria’s lips twitched, and I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling. He was protecting me. Even now.
Even angry, confused, thrown completely off-kilter.
Just like I knew he would.
And later, when he realized what I’d done—how I’d twisted his care into a weapon—he’d be pissed.
A wave of guilt hit me—sudden and disorienting—but I crushed it down.
Absorbing his betrayals wasn’t my burden to carry.
Nathan’s smile thinned. “Are you implying something, Holt?”
Damien’s reply was pure restrained fury. “I’m stating a fact. Cutting off a partner at the knees isn’t strategy, it’s fear.”
David cleared his throat, the sound too loud in the tension-thick air. Jennifer nudged his arm to silence him.
With the scene set and every player in position, I stepped back onto the stage.
“Gentlemen,” I said quickly, injecting a nervous tremor into the words. “Please, this isn’t—”
Nathan leaned forward, the predator instincts waking. “Let’s be honest about capacity, Ms. Sinclair. Falkirk could take this deal to any number of firms with more scalability and less risk.”
“And lose the one with the fastest adaptive algorithms on the market?” Damien shot back. “That’s not partnership—that’s arrogance.”
Heat coiled low in my stomach—every string pulled just right, the puppeteer behind the curtain.
I gave it three beats. One. Two. Three.
Then I softened my voice and leaned in, voice careful, measured, just this side of contrite.
“Perhaps the issue isn’t about control at all.
Maybe Elion could oversee just the integration phase—routing and analytics—while Falkirk retains final approval.
” I offered a small, uncertain smile. “A temporary measure to prove our capability.”
Damien frowned instantly. “Temporary or not, Elion doesn’t need Falkirk’s oversight.”
“Yes, they do.” Nathan’s voice oozed condescension. “At least until she can be instructed…” He let the word linger, poisonous and smug. “In how to handle herself in big business.”
Jennifer’s head jerked up, disgust flashing before she caught herself. Tessa muttered something that sounded a lot like unbelievable.
Damien’s expression turned deadly, the kind of look that could silence a room. But I stepped in before real blood could be drawn.
“Perhaps,” I said gently, feigning humility. “Elion could oversee routing and analytics for six weeks. A trial. Under Falkirk’s approval.”
Maria’s eyes lifted to meet mine. Understanding flickered there—quiet, sharp, approving.
I glanced at Nathan, wide-eyed, giving him my best impression of a woman far in over her head. “Do you think that’s something you’d be able to help with?” I asked, shifting my attention between the two of them.
Damien shot me a bewildered look, clearly off-balance. This wasn’t what we’d discussed. It wasn’t part of the plan we’d built together.
“Of course,” Nathan said, smugness curling around every syllable as he sat back in his chair, king of his tiny kingdom.
“Can you get me on my feet in sixty days?” I pressed.
He scoffed, amused.
“I mean,” I continued, widening my eyes a fraction, “you have so much experience. I don’t think it would take you very long.”
“He’s still learning himself,” Damien cut in, tone sharp, protective. “I’m sure there are others much more qualified—”
“I’ll do it in thirty,” Nathan snapped, his glare slicing toward Damien like a blade.
A silence followed. Kevin’s brows rose slightly. Jennifer’s lips parted as if to speak but thought better of it. Maria sat back, arms folded, hiding a ghost of a smile.
The sound of victory hummed in my veins.
As electric as the tension I’d manufactured in this room.
“Okay,” I said sweetly, tilting my head just so. “Then we’re in agreement? Elion will gain approval from Falkirk for thirty days… then we’re on our own to sink or swim.”
Damien opened his mouth, still searching for footing, but Nathan got there first. “That works for us,” he said, settling back, already celebrating his imagined triumph.
“Wonderful.” I smiled, the picture of grace, while satisfaction bloomed warm and wicked beneath my ribs. “I’ll have my team draft the outline by Monday.”
The meeting continued much in the same fashion. Damien shooting me looks when he thought nobody was looking, but still he sparred in my defense. Nathan sneered and snarled in return.
Both playing their parts.
When the meeting wrapped, people stood, gathered their things, exchanged polite farewells. I felt Damien move toward me before he spoke.
“Ms. Sinclair,” he said, voice like glass under pressure. “A word?”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Holt,” I said briskly, not looking at him. “But my schedule is full today. Perhaps another time.”
He froze.
Completely.
Then his shoulder lifted almost imperceptibly. “Of course,” he whispered.
Cold satisfaction curled through me.
It shouldn’t have.
But it did.
“Perfect,” I said, stepping past him—
And walked out with Nathan Bell of all people trailing beside me.
In the elevator, my phone buzzed.
Damien: I don’t understand what I did wrong.
My hands trembled—not with hesitation, not with fear, but with the weight of everything that had broken loose inside me overnight.
Me: Then let’s discuss it later tonight. My place. 6:00 p.m.
A pause. Then—
Damien: Okay.
Tonight, I’d demand the truth—and I wasn’t sure either of us would recover from it.