Chapter 3 #2
I raise an eyebrow but say nothing.
“At nine, there’s a call with the legal team for contract negotiations. Finance at eleven for the quarterly projections, and then marketing at 1:30 for their campaign overview. I.T. rounds out the day at three with their project update.”
She scrolls, then glances up with a faint smile. “That’s it for now, but you know how it goes—someone always tries to squeeze in more.”
“Let’s keep it tight, Bethany. And send me the updated proposal draft now. I’ll look it over while I wait for Austen.”
“Already in your inbox.” She places a bottle of sparkling water on my desk before disappearing into the hallway, as seamless as always.
I pull up the latest draft of the Monarch Global Bank proposal. This contract is the cornerstone of everything we’ve worked for—our entry into international finance on a scale that will put Knightwell in a league of its own.
I scan the projections, tweaking a few lines and adjusting the phrasing to hammer home the ROI for their stakeholders. It’s strong, but it has to be flawless. There’s no room for interpretation, no chance for them to second-guess.
The sound of footsteps in the hallway pulls me back to the present. It’s nearly 7:30. Austen’s always punctual. I close the file and sit back, fingers laced together, ready to face whatever Austen has to throw at me this early in the morning.
There’s a faint knock before I shout, “Come in.”
Austen’s tall frame appears in the doorway. He shuts the door with a quiet click.
“You want Bethany to get you a coffee?” I ask as he flops down in the chair opposite me.
“No, I’m fine,” he smiles, stretching his legs out before him. His posture is relaxed, but I can tell from the frown knitted in his brow he’s got a bug up his ass.
“So, what do I owe this pleasure?” I say, to put him at ease.
“Violet Harper,” he asserts. “You can’t fire her.” He straightens in his seat, his eyes locked on mine with conviction.
Christ, just hearing that woman’s name again, has the blood pumping through my veins, rushing to areas it has no business being.
“I already did,” I say, my tone unwavering. I never second-guess my decisions, and I certainly never back down. “What’s so special about her? You call a meeting at 7:30 and don’t even ask why I fired her before you demand she stays.” I try to keep the annoyance out of my tone, but it seeps through.
“Well, unless you caught her with a dead body, we need her. And I hate to say it more than she needs us.”
“Impossible,” I scoff. “No one is indispensable.”
“The Monarch Global Bank project. She wrote the key algorithm which detects fraudulent patterns.”
“Well, if it’s already been developed, what’s the problem?”
Austen sighs with weariness, like he always does when it’s a tech issue that’s out of my realm of understanding.
“She coded the core functionality of the algorithm. No one understands its inner workings as deeply as she does. Firing her could set us back months.” Austen pauses, giving me time to digest his words.
He knows I won’t back down easily. Then, playing his final Ace, he goes in for the kill.
“If we let her go, Chase, she could end up in the hands of Elliott Hargreaves. And you know as well as I do, he’s dying to snatch this contract from under our nose.”
Austen knows he has me the minute he mentions Elliott.
Elliott Hargreaves epitomizes everything I despise—a smug, jumped-up frat boy who rode Daddy’s millions to success.
Back at Stanford, his jealousy of anyone more competent than him was practically a sport.
When I outperformed him in business classes, it was like he couldn’t comprehend a world where wealth and privilege weren’t enough to win.
Now, he runs his company the same way he’s always operated—with underhand, cutthroat tactics. He poaches clients, spreads lies about competitors, and uses his money to bulldoze any obstacle in his path. A snake in a tailored suit.
I tap my fingers on my desk, my gaze wandering to the towering skyscrapers outside the window. This is a no-brainer. If Austen says we need Violet, I’ll have to go back on what I said, something I hate doing.
But if she’s coming back, I need leverage—something to ensure she knows exactly who’s in charge.
I’m still weighing my options when Austen cuts in.
“You know, it’s strange,” he says, his tone curious. “I’ve gone through her code, and it’s... unconventional. For someone with an Ivy League background, she’s not using any of the standard methods they teach there.”
And just like that, the seed of suspicion is planted. Little Miss High and Mighty, bleating on about my dirty empire, might have a skeleton or two in her closet.
“Alright, Austen,” I say carefully, keeping my tone measured. “We’ll bring her back. But let me handle it. I’ll call her in for a meeting today.”
“Great,” Austen replies, the tension easing from his shoulders. “I knew you’d see sense.”
“But let’s be clear—if I’m not satisfied with her performance or I catch her sneaking around again after the project’s finished, she’s out. Understood?”
“Understood,” he says, picking up his phone as it begins to ring. “I’ll leave you to it.”
Once the door closes behind him, I reach for the phone.
“Mr. Knight, what can I do for you?” Sarah from HR picks up after one ring.
“Violet Harper, she works in software development. I need her file on my desk as soon as possible—I’m meeting with her later.”
“Of course, Mr. Knight. I’ll send it over right away.”
“Thank you.”
I hang up, then call Bethany, instructing her to arrange the meeting.
There are a million things I should do today. Instead, I’m sitting here, a spike of adrenaline sluicing through my veins at the prospect of seeing the girl who’s already taken up far too much of my time.
Every jibe she threw, every flash of defiance, has done nothing but stoke a fire in me—one that’s edging dangerously close to burning out of control.