His Terms Only

Trial By Fire

Ava had barely settled into the sleek black desk outside Liam’s office when her first test arrived.

A sharp knock. A man in a three-piece navy suit walked in, his expression sour. He didn’t look at her.

“I need to speak with Mr. Hawthorne. Now.”

Ava stood. “He’s in a call at the moment. May I take a message?”

The man’s jaw clenched. “I don’t leave messages.”

She froze. This was exactly what Liam warned her about — power players who didn’t respect lines or titles.

“Mr. Hawthorne said not to interrupt unless it’s urgent,” she said carefully. “If it’s urgent, I can—”

“It is urgent,” the man snapped. “Tell him Daniel Knox is here.”

The name struck her. Daniel Knox — CFO of Hawthorne Global.

Her heart thudded. This wasn’t a test. This was a bomb.

Ava tapped the intercom. “Mr. Hawthorne, Daniel Knox is here. He says it’s urgent.”

A pause. Then Liam’s voice, clipped and unreadable. “Send him in.”

Knox brushed past her without another word. The office door shut with a soft click.

She sat back down, hands trembling slightly. If she’d waited too long, she could’ve been blamed. If she’d let him in too soon, she’d be accused of poor judgment. She had made a call — and now, she had to live with it.

Ten minutes passed.

Twenty.

Thirty.

Just as she reached for her water bottle, the door burst open.

Daniel Knox stormed out, muttering under his breath, “He’s going to destroy everything.”

Ava’s breath hitched.

Moments later, Liam emerged. Calm. Composed. Controlled.

He didn’t look at her. Just said, “Conference Room B. You’re coming.”

Ava stood without hesitation and followed him down the hallway. Her heels clicked, a beat behind his longer stride.

Inside the glass-walled room, two senior VPs, a legal advisor, and a woman from public relations were already seated. The air was electric — one wrong breath and it might all blow.

Liam remained standing. “There’s a leak,” he said bluntly. “Someone within our finance division moved restricted files. We’re tracing the breach.”

“Whoever did it is careful,” the PR woman said. “They used a dummy IP in Seoul.”

Liam’s eyes narrowed. “No one’s careful enough for me.”

He glanced at Ava. “Take notes.”

She scrambled to open her notepad, pen shaking slightly in her grip.

The meeting was a whirlwind of high-level chaos — strategies, threats of legal action, media risk assessment. Ava jotted every word down, somehow managing to keep pace. It wasn’t until Liam’s voice softened slightly, directing a question to her, that the room paused.

“Ava, based on what you’ve observed today — what’s our biggest risk?”

Every head turned to her.

She blinked. Once. Twice.

Then she spoke.

“It's not the leak,” she said, her voice steady despite her nerves. “It’s how fast it’s spreading. You’ve kept Hawthorne Global tight and silent for years. One breach will only cause panic if the media smells blood. If I were you—”

“You’re not,” Liam interrupted. Then, after a pause, “But go on.”

“If I were,” she continued, swallowing, “I’d announce the breach first. Control the story. Show transparency and power in the same move.”

The PR woman raised a brow. “Bold. That could work.”

Liam stared at Ava for a long, unreadable moment.

Then turned back to the group. “She’s right. We’ll announce it tomorrow. Grace, draft the statement. Everyone else — find the leak.”

As the meeting dispersed, Ava remained frozen in her seat. Had she crossed a line or passed another invisible test?

Liam turned to her, expression unreadable.

“You’re not here to just observe, Ava,” he said quietly. “You’re here to become dangerous.”