Enemies to something hotter

Chapter four: Boardroom Shadows

The fluorescent lights in the open-plan office of Apex Dynamics buzzed like angry hornets, casting a sterile glow over the sea of cubicles that had descended into full-blown pandemonium by 9:17 a.m. Printers jammed with error codes no one understood. Phones rang unanswered. And somewhere in the finance pod, a junior analyst was openly weeping over a spreadsheet that had somehow eaten three weeks of projections. Chaos wasn’t just at work today it was the main character.

Ava Laurent strode through the mess like she owned the storm. Because, in a way, she did. At twenty-nine, she was the youngest Senior Strategy Director the firm had ever promoted, and she wore the title like a blade sharp, unapologetic, and ready to draw blood when necessary. Her tailored black pantsuit hugged her frame with military precision, the emerald silk blouse underneath a deliberate pop of color that said I can destroy your career and still look flawless doing it. Her dark waves were pulled into a sleek ponytail that swayed with every decisive click of her Louboutins.

“Mark!” she called without breaking stride, snapping her fingers toward the marketing lead who was currently trying to hide behind a dying ficus. “If I see one more client email with that godawful rebrand mockup, I’m forwarding it to legal with a note that says ‘gross negligence.’ Fix it. Yesterday.”

Mark’s face went the color of skim milk. “Yes, Ava. On it.”

She didn’t wait for more. Her phone buzzed in her hand—three new Slack notifications, two missed calls from the Tokyo office, and a calendar reminder that her 10 a.m. with the board was now a 9:45 a.m. because someone upstairs clearly hated her.

Mikasa was already waiting at her desk, perched on the edge like she belonged there. Which she did. As Ava’s best friend and the firm’s top data scientist, Kasa had the kind of effortless brilliance that made people underestimate her until she dismantled their entire argument with three charts and a raised eyebrow. Today she wore a bright yellow headwrap that clashed gloriously with her emerald-green blazer, a silent middle finger to the corporate dress code.

“Morning, trouble,” Kasa said, sliding a triple-shot oat milk latte across the desk. “You look like you’re about to commit several felonies before lunch. Rough night?”

“Define rough,” Ava replied, dropping into her ergonomic chair. She took a long sip, eyes closing for half a second in gratitude. “Between the server outage at 2 a.m. and the fact that half our European team decided to unionize overnight, I got maybe four hours. Oh, and Greg from compliance tried to mansplain blockchain to me again. I almost blocked him with a stapler.”

Kasa grinned, the kind of grin that had gotten them both kicked out of more than one bar in grad school. “My girl. Want me to accidentally leak his browser history to the group chat?”

“Later. Right now I need you to run the Q3 risk models again. Something feels off. The numbers are too clean.”

Kasa’s expression sharpened. “You think someone’s cooking the books?”

“I think someone’s trying,” Ava said, voice low. She tapped her perfectly manicured nail against her desk. “And I want to know who before the board walks in and starts throwing around words like ‘accountability’ and ‘heads will roll.’”

A familiar voice cut through the noise from across the floor. “Ladies, if you’re plotting world domination before coffee, at least invite me.”

Mr. Kingsmay to the two of them when no one else was listening leaned against the glass partition of Ava’s office, arms crossed over a charcoal vest that probably cost more than most people’s rent. He wasn’t their boss anymore, technically. After his promotion to Executive Vice President six months ago, he’d become something better: an ally. A close friend. The kind of man who could shut down an entire room with a single raised eyebrow and still make Ava laugh until her ribs hurt during late-night strategy sessions that always involved too much whiskey and not enough sleep.

“kingsmay,” Ava said, allowing the tiniest smirk to tug at her lips. “Perfect timing. Tell me you’re not here to warn me about the board meeting.”

“I’m here to warn you about the board meeting,” he replied smoothly, stepping inside and closing the door behind him. The chaos outside muffled instantly. “They’re bringing in external auditors. Early. Someone whispered ‘irregularities’ in the wrong ear.”

Kasa whistled low. “Well, shit.”

Ava leaned back, eyes narrowing. She was good at this part—reading the boardroom currents, spotting the sharks before they smelled blood. “Let me guess. Harrington’s behind it. He’s been gunning for my department since I blocked his pet project last quarter.”

Kingsmay’s jaw tightened. “Among others. But here’s the thing—they’re not just looking at numbers. They’re looking at people. Loyalty. Performance. Who’s indispensable.”

The implication hung heavy. Ava’s promotion had ruffled more than a few feathers. She was young, female, and terrifyingly competent. In a company still pretending meritocracy was real, that made her a target.

She stood, smoothing her blouse. “Then we make sure they see exactly how indispensable I am. Kasa, get those models pristine. Kingsmay, I need you in the room. Moral support and that charming smile that makes old men forget they hate progress.”

He chuckled, but there was steel underneath. “Always. Just… watch your back, Ava. This feels bigger than usual office politics.”

She met his gaze, something unspoken flickering between them. Not quite romance yet but the kind of charged understanding that came from years of trusting each other in the trenches. “I always do.”

The next two hours were a whirlwind of controlled fury. Ava shredded a disastrous presentation from the sales team, restructured an entire client pitch on the fly, and somehow found time to comfort the crying analyst by diagnosing the corrupted spreadsheet in under five minutes. Kasa fed her real-time data through encrypted messages. Kingsmay ran interference with two VPs who “just wanted a quick word.”

By the time she walked into the boardroom, her game face was ironclad.

The meeting started civilly enough. Charts. Projections. Polite questions. But then came the pivot.

“Ms. Laurent,” said Reginald Harrington, the silver-haired board member who looked like he’d never smiled in his life, “there have been concerns about certain… discretionary expenditures in your division. Care to explain the $2.4 million allocated to ‘strategic consulting’ that seems to have no deliverables attached?”

Ava didn’t blink. “Of course. Those funds went to a specialized AI ethics audit recommended after our last penetration test revealed vulnerabilities that could have cost us fifty times that amount in regulatory fines. The report is in the shared drive—page forty-seven, if you’d like to review it now.”

Murmurs rippled. Harrington’s eyes narrowed.

She continued, voice cool and cutting. “Unless, of course, the real concern is that I didn’t route the contract through your preferred vendor. The one currently under SEC investigation. That would be awkward.”

Kingsmay hid a smile behind his hand. Kasa, watching via video link from the war room, typed a rapid-fire Queen behavior into their private chat.

But Harrington wasn’t done. He slid a single printed email across the polished table. “Then perhaps you can explain this.”

Ava picked it up. Her stomach dropped, but her expression stayed diamond-hard.

It was an internal memo. From her account. Dated two nights ago. Detailing plans to “reallocate” underperforming assets in a way that skirted several compliance red lines. The language was hers precise, ruthless. But she had never written it.

Her mind raced. The server outage. The too-clean numbers. Someone had used her credentials. Someone close enough to know her style.

She looked up slowly, scanning the faces around the table. Harrington looked triumphant. A few others shifted uncomfortably.

“Interesting,” Ava said, voice silk over steel. “Because I have timestamped logs showing I was in a secure strategy call with our Singapore partners at the exact time this was allegedly sent. I’ll have those forwarded immediately.”

She was lying about the exact timing, but only slightly. And she was betting everything that whoever forged this hadn’t covered their digital tracks perfectly.

The room erupted into overlapping voices. Kingsmay leaned forward, ready to back her play. Kasa was already pulling server logs on the other end.

But as the meeting spiraled, Ava’s phone vibrated silently in her lap. A new message from an unknown number.

You’re smarter than I gave you credit for. But you’re still looking in the wrong direction. Check your closest allies. — A friend who knows what you did in Lisbon.

Her blood ran cold.

Lisbon. The one trip she, Kasa, and kingsmay had sworn never to speak about again. The one night that had bound them together in ways that could destroy all three of them if it ever came out.

She glanced up. Across the table, kingsmay met her eyes with a question. Beside her in the video feed, Kasa was frowning at something on her second monitor.

Ava forced a smile for the board, but inside, the ground was cracking beneath her feet.

Someone wasn’t just trying to take her down.

They were coming for the three of them.

And the real game had just begun…..