Chapter 7: The Boardroom War
Gemma
The heavy oak doors of the Blackwell Holdings boardroom feel like the gates to an arena. I can feel the eyes of twenty suits—men who have spent decades carving up the world like a Sunday roast—burning into me. They don’t see the woman who just survived a plane crash or the woman who spent the last three years playing the "dutiful wife" in a gilded cage. They see a girl holding the keys to their pensions, and they are starving for a reason to tear me down.
Beside me, Cassian is a pillar of dark energy. He hasn't slept; the shadows under his eyes only make his gaze more lethal. He adjusted my blazer in the car, his fingers lingering on my collar, a silent reminder of the heat that had nearly leveled the library hours ago.
"Head up, Gemma," he’d whispere
