Collateral Damage
604 Words
I don’t lose control.
I calculate.
Which is why the email waiting in my inbox at 6:42 AM feels deliberate.
Anonymous sender.
Subject line: Conflict of Interest.
I open it.
A photo.
Boardroom. Yesterday.
Ian leaning slightly toward me. The angle intimate. Cropped carefully. Suggestive without proof.
Below it:
Investors and CEOs don’t mix. Shareholders deserve transparency.
My jaw tightens.
This wasn’t accidental.
This was positioned.
My phone rings seconds later.
Mr. Khanna. Senior board member.
“I trust you’ve seen it,” he says without greeting.
“Yes.”
“This complicates things.”
“No,” I reply evenly. “It clarifies them.”
Silence.
“You’re emotionally involved?” he asks carefully.
I don’t hesitate.
“No.”
Technically true.
Emotion isn’t the same as involvement.
“Good,” he says. “Because there’s already discussion about influence.”
Of course there is.
After the call ends, I stare at the image again.
The framing is intentional.
Close. Intimate. Suggestive.
Dangerous.
My office door opens without a knock.
Ian.
He looks at my face once and understands.
“It’s circulating,” he says.
“You knew?”
“I was forwarded it five minutes ago.”
I slide my laptop toward him.
“You’re calm,” I observe.
“I expected resistance.”
“You expected character assassination?”
“I expected leverage.”
His composure should soothe me.
It doesn’t.
“This affects credibility,” I say. “Yours and mine.”
“I’m aware.”
“And?”
“And we respond strategically.”
I stand abruptly.
“No. We eliminate perception.”
His gaze sharpens slightly.
“You’re not cutting me out.”
It isn’t a question.
“It’s logical.”
“It’s reactive.”
“It protects the company.”
“And damages trust.”
The word lands heavier than I expect.
“You think this is about us?” I ask coldly.
“It is now.”
Silence.
The air tightens.
“You’re willing to step back?” I ask.
“If it strengthens the company, yes.”
The answer disorients me.
No ego.
No possessiveness.
Just choice.
“Why?” I demand.
“Because I don’t build things I plan to walk away from.”
There it is again.
Staying.
The word presses against my ribs.
“You’re twenty-five,” I say sharply. “You don’t understand what collapse looks like.”
His eyes harden—not angry.
Focused.
“I understand loss,” he says quietly. “Don’t assume I don’t.”
The shift is subtle.
But real.
“You don’t know anything about my past,” I say.
“And you don’t know anything about mine.”
A beat.
“Then maybe we should keep it that way.”
That one hurts more than intended.
He studies me for a long second.
“You’re pushing me out to regain control,” he says calmly.
“I’m protecting my company.”
“And I’m protecting my investment.”
The space between us hums.
“Walk away now,” I say. “Before this gets complicated.”
He steps closer instead.
“You’re not scared of rumors,” he says quietly. “You’re scared of needing me.”
My pulse stumbles.
“That’s arrogant.”
“That’s accurate.”
I should slap him.
Or fire him.
Or end the partnership.
Instead, I whisper:
“You’re replaceable.”
His expression doesn’t change.
“No,” he says softly. “I’m not.”
Silence crashes between us.
For the first time—
He isn’t reinforcing me.
He’s challenging me.
And it feels like stepping off stable ground.
- Writer
