You Are Mine To Desecrate

Chapter 3 --- 2 weeks

Ava's POV

The boardroom was too cold. Not just the temperature though the AC was going full blast like someone was trying to turn me into a corporate popsicle but the air itself. It was cold, calculated and condescending. I took my seat at the head of the long table, smoothing my suit with steady fingers. Nine members, all men in varying shades of gray, blue, and bullshit, sat around me with their papers and polite, tight smiles. Not one of them looked me directly in the eye.

That told me everything.

Candice slid a folder in front of me with a whisper of efficiency, her expression carefully blank. I gave her a nod of thanks and looked over the agenda. The usual: financials, investor reports, project statuses. But we all knew why we were really here. They were circling, smelling weakness and testing for blood. My blood.

I folded my hands over the folder and leaned back just enough to look relaxed.

Fake it. Own it. Win it. I chanted in my head. "Shall we begin?" I asked.

The chairman cleared his throat. Marcus Willoughby. Silver hair, tired eyes, old money. He worked side by side with my father when father was the CEO. That alone made him dangerous. He was against father's decision to let me run this company. I know what he thought... that I was just a girl and girls aren't supposed to amount to anything. Their sole purpose in a family was to be sold off to one of the wealthiest family and make the bond between both families stronger. To make their fathers richer by being the wives to wealthy men. And I was sure that now the company was falling, he was loathing inside.

"Yes, Miss Ava. We appreciate you making the time."

Making the time? It’s my company.

"Of course," I said smoothly.

"As you can see," he continued, gesturing toward the screen where last quarter's numbers bled red like a wound, "revenues have taken a significant hit. We expected a downturn, but the impact is... concerning."

I nodded. "Yes, and we all know why. The delay in the solar tech division, the pullout of the Brazilian investors, and the chip shortage hit us harder than anticipated."

"Agreed," murmured Daniel Kwon, tapping a pen against his teeth. "But the numbers don’t lie. Our runway is short. And investor confidence is slipping."

"We need to act fast," added Gregory Lin, adjusting his tie. "Stability is key right now."

I arched a brow. "Which is exactly why I’m focusing resources on the AI division and streamlining overhead. We can pivot with minimal layoffs. It’ll sting, but it’ll keep us breathing."

There was a murmur of polite nods. Then Marcus said it.

"Two weeks."

I blinked. Not clearly understanding. "Excuse me?"

He folded his hands, looking like he was doing me a favor. "We’d like to give you two weeks to implement your turnaround strategy. Show us measurable traction. Reignite investor interest. Prove the direction you’re taking is sustainable."

Bullshit. That wasn’t a deadline. It was a noose.

I kept my voice even. "And if I don’t deliver your miracle in two weeks?"

"Let’s not get ahead of ourselves," Daniel said quickly, smiling. Too quickly. Too wide. "We’re confident in your leadership. This is just... a checkpoint."

I forced a smile. "Of course."

They thought they were being subtle. That if they wrapped their ambition in polite words and sympathetic tones, I wouldn’t see the power play coming. But I’d grown up in rooms like this. With men like them. With a brother like mine.

"Anything else?" I asked, voice sugar-sweet and deadly.

Gregory looked down at his papers, pretending not to meet my gaze. "No, I think that covers it."

"Wonderful," I said, standing. "I’ll have an updated report in your inbox within 48 hours. Let’s keep the faith, gentlemen."

When I got to my office, I slammed the door a little harder than necessary. I let out a heaved breath.

Candice poked her head in. "Coffee?"

"Vodka, if you have it."

She gave me a sympathetic look and disappeared. I dropped into my chair, turning it around to face the window. I stared at the city beyond.

Two weeks.

They might as well have handed me a grenade and asked me to juggle. The worst part wasn’t the deadline. It wasn’t even the smug looks they tried to hide. It was the fact that I knew exactly who they wanted to replace me with.

Caleb. My half-brother. The golden boy. The favorite. The charming bastard who never worked a day in his life and still managed to land on his feet. He’d been circling for months. Dropping subtle hints whenever he came to the company "to see me". Making quiet appearances at investor events. Smiling too hard when anyone brought up the future of Morales Tech. Now they were trying to make room for him without dirtying their hands. And the worst part?

I saw it coming.

I leaned back in my chair, pressing my fingers to my temples. God, I was so tired. Tired of pretending I didn’t care. Tired of proving myself twice as hard for half the respect. Tired of watching the last piece of my mother's legacy slip through my fingers. It had been mine. The company was created by mother and was my birthright. Just one thing. One f*****g thing that was mine after everything. After my mother died. After father agreed to give me just this one company amongst many. Caleb was the sole successor of the remaining two companies father owned but as greedy as he is, he wants this one my mother left for me. This was the richest of all the assets father left to Caleb and for some reason my half-brother likes seeing me own nothing.

Morales Tech was founded by mother. I had only taken it up just a year ago and I was handling it just fine until 3 months back after I had moved out of the Morales mansion and decided to start my own life, living far away from father, Caleb and Aunt Felicia ... my step mother. Who had always made my life a living hell. This company was all I had left. But lately, it was beginning to crumble and I don't know why. Am I a failure? This was the only asset I had that reminded me of mother and I am grateful to father for letting me run it. I don't want to fail mother. I couldn’t lose it. I wouldn’t.

My eyes drifted closed. And of course, because the universe has a cruel sense of humor, his face appeared behind my lids.

Alexander.

His mouth. His hands. The heat. The dream. The way he said my name like it was a sin and a promise. I shivered. Was it wrong that part of me wanted to call him? That part of me thought... maybe he could help? God, I hated that part. I must be stupid. But I know it wasn’t wrong. He had power. Influence. Leverage.

And I had two weeks. Two weeks to fix everything. Or lose it all.

Later that night, I sat in my apartment, curled up on the couch in an old hoodie and pajama pants, drinking wine straight from the bottle. My laptop glowed beside me with charts and spreadsheets I couldn’t even see anymore. The words of the board echoed in my head.

"Two weeks."

Two weeks to perform a miracle. Two weeks to beat my brother at a game I never agreed to play. Two weeks to decide if I was going to ask the devil for help. And if I did… What would he ask for in return? I leaned my head back against the couch and closed my eyes.

"God help me," I whispered. And somewhere in the shadows of my mind, I swear I heard his voice.

"Say my name." My legs clenched together before I could stop them. I groaned.

"I need therapy." But I needed a miracle more. And Alexander Thompson just might be both. If only my pride let me.