Chapter 24 Chase
Chapter twenty-four
Chase
“You’re looking sharp today,” Clarke, my trainer, puffs out, tapping his mitts together as he shifts into position, feet light and ready.
“More like you’re getting old,” I fire back, snapping a jab-cross-hook combo that forces him to angle toward the ropes.
He grunts but recovers fast, pivoting out to reset. I let him—just for a second—before driving forward again. My fists connect with precision, each strike landing clean. It’s one of those days. My body moves on instinct, every punch flowing into the next, my focus razor-sharp.
He adjusts his stance, but I’m already there—faster, stronger, and completely in control.
The truth is, I’m happier than I’ve been in years.
Before, all my passion was directed to my work goals.
Being the best. Staying on top. That fire still hasn’t gone out, but recently, it’s my personal life where I’m really winning.
Since Violet stayed at my house a little under three weeks ago, it’s like I’ve finally been able to smash through her walls.
I can tell she’s falling just as hard as I am.
I thought that would frighten me; on the contrary, it’s nothing short of thrilling.
And being the selfish son of a bitch I am, I want all of her.
Clarke absorbs one final hook to the pad before dropping his arms with a huff. “Time’s up.” His mouth curves in a half-smile as he shakes out his shoulders. He looks done for the day while I’m just getting started.
“Same time tomorrow?” I say, grabbing a towel.
“Yeah, can you give me some of whatever you’re on before you wear me out completely?”
I bark out a laugh as I head to the shower, keen to throw off my sweaty gear and get my day started.
As I massage shower gel into my taut muscles, I groan as I picture Violet back at my apartment, in my bed, her hair spilled out over the silk pillows, just waking up.
Most days, I peel my skin off hers to come in early to train while she sleeps for longer.
Usually, we stay at hers because of Gracie, but last night, I took full advantage of the extra space and the absence of thin walls.
But I guess the thing that’s surprised me most is how much I enjoy spending time with her.
Just simple things, cooking together, walks at the park, Gracie’s soccer games, movies, like a best friend who I have the best sex of my life with.
My cell’s incessant ringing wails in the background like a constant crack of the whip, forcing me to switch off the shower in irritation. But it’s a useful reminder of the hundred things I need to get through today—one of them—Richard Morgan.
I’ve got a meeting with him later, and while the whole Monarch mess is still a headache, Richard’s proving a closer ally than I expected.
Dragging him out of that tunnel might have been worth something after all.
He hasn’t committed to anything yet, but he’s also not rushing into a deal with Elliot, either.
Perhaps it’s loyalty, or maybe he’s questioning how Elliot keeps outmaneuvering me at every turn.
A man like Richard doesn’t make decisions on gut feeling alone—if something seems off, he’ll bide his time until he knows why.
Which brings me to the other important item on this morning’s agenda.
Devlin. He called Austen late last night—his investigation is done, and he’s identified the source of the leaks.
The thought of taking whoever is responsible down is breathing ice and fire into my veins.
When I’m done, they’ll never work in this city again.
As I head toward the elevators, my phone screen lights up with five missed calls from Austen—unusual for this early in the day.
A prickle of unease scrapes down my spine as I press the button for the executive floor.
The moment the doors slide open, Bethany shoots up from her desk, her expression tight with concern.
“Something wrong, Bethany?” I ask, stepping into my office as she follows, a deep frown etched between her brows.
“Austen urgently needs to speak to you.”
“I see. I’ll call him now.”
“No,” she says, panic hovering beneath her usual calm. “He said he needs to talk face to face. I mentioned you had another meeting first thing, but...” she hesitates, as if choosing her words carefully.
“Just say whatever you need to, Bethany.” I try to rein it in, but impatience clips into my tone.
“Well, he almost bit my head off, which is completely out of character.”
My muscles tense because Bethany is absolutely right. Austen never loses his temper.
“Okay, Bethany. Cancel my first meeting and tell Austen to come now.”
She half-jogs to her desk, calling through to Austen’s secretary. I’ve barely sat down when my desk phone rings to let me know he’s here.
Austen strides in, his lips pressed into a thin line.
“What’s going on, Austen?”
There’s a strange silence as he looks at me in a way he never has before. Almost with pity. My pulse, already frantic, skyrockets.
“Devlin,” he finally says, drawing in a weary breath. “I spoke to him at length last night and again this morning.”
“And?” My fingers drum a frantic rhythm on my desk.
“The mole.” He leans forward, like he’s assuming the brace position. “You won’t like it.”
“Naturally. Why? Were you expecting I’d throw them a farewell party?”
Another stretch of silence. Impatience gets the better of me, and I snap. “Is this a fucking game of Clue, Austen? Are you waiting for me to name a suspect?”
“It’s Violet.”
He says it so quietly, I’m sure I misheard him.
“Say that again.” My lips barely move as every drop of blood in my body pounds in my ears.
“Violet,” he sighs.
Immediately, I jump out of my seat, my heart squeezing so tight I feel like I’m gasping for air. I tug my tie loose, resisting the compulsion to slam my fist through the window.
“Impossible. There’s no way. He must have made a mistake.”
“That’s what I thought, Chase. But the evidence is indisputable.”
“What fucking evidence?” I roar, pounding my fist onto the desk so hard that pencils and papers scatter to the floor.
“You need to calm down, Chase—”
“How do you expect me to calm down?” I cut in, my voice shaking with rage. “You’re telling me that the person I’ve fallen hopelessly in love with is selling me out to Elliot Hargreaves?”
“You’re in love with her?” His face slackens, his eyes flickering closed for a split second.
“Yes,” I choke out, realization slamming into me like a dagger to the heart. “Believe me, it’s fucking news to me, too.” I rake a hand through my hair, slumping onto the edge of my desk. Why the fuck did it have to be at this moment I realize I’m in love for the first time in my life?
Austen exhales slowly, giving me a beat before he continues. “The first red flag came when I.T. ran an audit on access logs to our internal system.”
“And?” My voice is hoarse.
“They flagged Violet’s login credentials being used to access restricted files—files she had no reason to open.
At first, we suspected a mistake, but Devlin had security pull detailed logs.
Turns out, her credentials were used multiple times to retrieve high-level project documents—especially drafts of the Monarch proposal. ”
My hands clench into fists.
“That’s what led Devlin to sweep her desk,” Austen continues. “They found a printed copy of the latest draft buried beneath stacks of unrelated paperwork. It was so well hidden they almost missed it.”
Cursing, I push off the desk and pace, my mind racing. “Go on,” I grit out, my throat thick.
“Even though Violet developed the core of the algorithm, she wasn’t the only one who worked on it.
We traced unauthorized data transfers from her laptop—she accessed files outside her scope, copied them onto an external drive, and transferred them to an unknown recipient.
The data was masked, but Devlin’s team cracked it—Elliot’s company was the final destination. ”
My stomach churns.
“And the last piece of evidence—” Austen hands me a brown envelope I hadn’t even noticed he was carrying.
I rip it open. Photos spill across my desk. Each image tightens the noose around my neck.
Violet in a coffee shop with Elliot. Sharing a plate of cakes like young lovers. Him reaching out with a napkin to wipe cream from her lips. Sharing an umbrella in the heavy rain.
Rage boils in my veins, white-hot and suffocating. Elliot better leave the fucking continent before I bury him alive.
But even with the damning evidence, I still can’t bring myself to hate her.
Then I see the final photo. It twists the knife as deep as it’ll go—Violet at the subway, smiling at him with those damn dimples that probably got me into this mess in the first place.
I slump back down into my chair, my mind replaying everything like a goddamn highlight reel straight from the pit of hell. Violet sneaking around in my office. The forged Princeton certificate. How close she was with Elliot at Velvet Lounge.
Every single red flag I ignored because I wanted her more than the fucking air I breathe.
Finally, I break the silence. “I admit this is damning evidence. But let me talk to her. Give her a chance to explain herself.”
“No,” Austen asserts, his tone final. “You can’t speak to her. She’ll go running straight to Elliot, and the investigation will have been a waste of time and resources.”
Anger flares, hot and suffocating. “This is my goddamn company. I’ll do what I like.”
Austen’s gaze remains unwavering. “This is exactly why you can’t get involved. You’re too emotionally invested.”
“There must be a logical explanation. Violet must have been desperate.” The words sound deluded, even to me.
“Listen to yourself,” Austen snaps, his icy control fracturing for a second.
“If you speak to Violet now, you’ll tip her off.
You’ll be a laughing stock. The ruthless Chase Knight, played by a honey trap—the oldest trick in the book.
You owe it to the shareholders and everyone invested in this deal to play smart. ”
I grit my teeth, breathing hard through my nose.
“We need time for legal to go through her contract,” Austen continues.
“Make sure she’s locked into strict non-compete and confidentiality clauses.
That way, she can’t run to Elliot with anything else—or use our algorithm after she’s gone.
Once everything’s airtight, we bring her in and make sure she can’t hurt us when she walks out that door. ”
“She’ll have to sign the paperwork,” I murmur, the weight of it settling over me.
Austen nods grimly. “Exactly. Once legal ties up the loose ends, we’ll bring her in for a meeting and have her sign.”
I drag a hand over my stubble. Suddenly, everything I’ve built feels pointless if I can’t have the one thing I want more than anything. And I wanted everything with her. The rage is still there, burning beneath my skin, but something else gnaws at me, too—a bitter taste I can’t shake.
“She developed the foundation of the algorithm,” I say, my voice tight. “Whatever else she’s done, we can’t ignore that.”
Austen’s expression darkens. “You’re not seriously suggesting we pay her?”
I grind my teeth, knowing how this looks, but I can’t let it go.
“I don’t know what I think right now. But I do know I want this over.
No public fallout, no legal bullshit.” But even as I say the words, I realize it’s an excuse.
If it were anyone else, I’d crush them so far into the ground they’d never dare look me in the face again.
Austen studies me for a long beat, then exhales through his nose. “Jesus Christ. You’re really in love with her.”
I don’t answer. I just grip the edge of my desk, my knuckles turning white. “How long will it take for the legal team to get everything in place?”
He rubs a hand over his jaw. “Perhaps a week at most. They need to review her contract, identify and address any loopholes, and draft the exit terms. We can’t afford any mistakes. In the meantime, we’ll have to restrict her system’s access and reassign her to non-sensitive work.”
I nod stiffly, forcing myself to focus on what needs to be done, not the chaos clawing at my insides. “Fine. Now we are aware of what proposal Elliot is working with; we adjust ours.” My voice hardens. “He thought he had the upper hand—let’s make sure he regrets that.”
Austen gives a slow, satisfied smirk. He wants to see Elliot go down as much as I do.
“And when we bring her in,” I add, quieter, “she’ll have the chance to say her piece.”
Austen’s expression tightens. “You still think there’s an explanation for this?”
I let out a slow breath, staring at the scattered evidence on my desk. “I don’t know, Austen. But I need to hear it from her.”
“Promise me you won’t do anything reckless before legal finalizes everything?”
I drag a hand through my hair, my jaw tightening. “You have my word. Elliot Hargreaves won’t win. Or anyone else who conspires with him.” My voice is steady, but the quiet fury underneath is impossible to miss.
He assesses me long and hard before he reluctantly stands.
“I’ll work on the proposal now before my meeting with Richard,” I say, forcing myself to focus. “Then we’ll meet at Velvet Lounge and have dinner.”
“Fine. Have Bethany coordinate with Zara. We’ll figure something out.” He hesitates in the doorway, rubbing the back of his neck. “You know I’m really sorry it turned out like this, Chase.”
I don’t respond. Instead, I flip open my laptop. “I’ll send you the updated proposal when it’s done. Don’t forward it to anyone.”
He sighs with a nod, closing my door with a quiet click.
As soon as he’s gone, I drop my head into my hands. I’ve got no fucking clue how I’m supposed to get through this week. I should be seeing her tonight, like I always do.
I pick up my phone and open a new message. My fingers hover over the screen, typing, deleting, retyping—trying to strike the right balance between cold and too familiar.
ME
Something came up. I need to entertain clients tonight, so I’ll have to raincheck.
I hit send and turn back to my laptop, but my focus is shot.
Because no matter how much I tell myself, Elliot won’t win—deep down, I know he already has.