Chapter5
1065 Words
Theme: Cornered.
Arielle
Arielle had never been more proud of her team than she was this morning. Two weeks into the campaign’s development, and they were producing results that looked good even in Damien Locke’s cold, perfectionist standards.
That was, until Nathan messed up.
A miscommunication. A rushed email. The wrong version of a presentation was sent to a key investor. Not just off-brand—completely unvetted and filled with copy riddled with placeholders.
A rookie mistake, sure. But nothing worth destroying someone over.
Unfortunately, Damien Locke didn’t believe in mercy. Not in business. Not in his office.
By noon, Nathan was gone.
Just like that.
No second chances. No conversation. Just a single call from HR, a box, and security at his side.
The news hit Arielle like a slap. Nathan, who had pulled overtime three nights in a row. Nathan, who had volunteered for projects no one else wanted. Gone, because of one mistake.
Arielle had to physically unclench her fists to keep from slamming open the glass doors to Damien’s office.
But she walked in anyway.
No knock. No hesitation.
He looked up from his desk, brows lifting. “Something wrong?”
She crossed the threshold in two strides. “You fired Nathan.”
He leaned back slowly in his chair, completely unfazed. “Correct.”
“You didn’t even speak to me about it first. He was my team member.”
“Your team member made a mistake that cost us trust with a major investor. That was my decision.”
She didn’t sit. Didn’t soften. The icy corporate air conditioning couldn’t cool the heat burning under her skin.
“You should’ve talked to me. We’re working together—allegedly. That’s not partnership, that’s dictatorship.”
Damien rose from his chair with the same deliberate calm that made him so damn hard to read. “Do you know what it costs to recover from a single credibility breach with investors? Do you know how fast public confidence crumbles?”
“This wasn’t a leak. It was a file swap.”
“And next time, it could be worse.” His tone remained maddeningly steady, like he was delivering a weather report rather than just gutting a man's career.
“It wasn’t your mistake,” she snapped. “So you buried him to protect your reputation?”
Something flickered in Damien’s eyes.
There. That shadow again.
Not rage. Not defensiveness.
Guilt.
But it was gone before she could grasp it. Locked away behind that impassive armor he wore so well.
Instead, he stepped around the desk and faced her full-on. "You walk into my office with fire and principles like they’re armor," he said, voice low, dangerous. "But let me tell you what the world really values, Arielle: results. One misstep in a high-level pitch and people start betting against you."
"You’re not invincible, Damien. Maybe if you let people be human, they’d work harder for you."
"I don’t need people to work for me," he said coldly. "I need them to work for the company."
"And what about you?" she shot back, voice trembling slightly with contained anger. "Are you even human anymore? Or just the shell of your father’s legacy?"
Silence.
The words hung between them like smoke—impossible to take back.
Damien’s jaw tightened. His knuckles whitened where his hands fisted at his sides. His eyes, those ruthless green eyes, iced over.
"You don’t get to talk about my family," he said, voice sharper than steel. "You think because you’ve survived your own storm, you understand mine? You don’t know anything about me."
"I know you’re cruel when you’re cornered."
"And I know you hide behind your team because you’re too afraid to stand alone."
The words slammed into her like a slap.
Arielle's breath caught.
She didn’t respond. Didn’t scream. She simply straightened her spine, lifted her chin, and turned.
The click of her heels against the marble floor was the only sound as she left his office without a word.
But even with her back to him, she knew—she felt—his gaze burning between her shoulder blades.
She didn’t allow herself to look back.
She didn’t allow herself to crumble.
Not yet.
Damien
He didn’t regret it.
He couldn’t afford to.
That’s what he told himself as the echo of the door shutting behind her lingered in the room, louder than any shouted argument would have been.
He paced once. Twice. The silence pressing against his skin like an accusation.
"You hide behind your team because you’re too afraid to stand alone."
The words clung to him. Scratched at him. Because beneath the layers of calculation, control, and cold ambition—he knew she had struck something too real.
He hadn't even meant what he said.
Not really.
It was a defense—automatic, vicious, cruel.
It was fear, dressed up as indifference.
Because she’d gotten too close. Too fast.
And it scared the hell out of him.
Arielle was not like the others.
She didn’t obey.
She didn’t grovel.
And she certainly didn’t fear him.
She challenged him.
Saw through him.
Made him feel like a man, not a machine.
And somehow, that was more dangerous than anything else.
He sat back down, but he couldn’t focus.
Not on the emails. Not on the numbers.
Just on the look in her eyes right before she left.
Not angry.
Not hurt.
Not even betrayed.
Disappointed.
And that—somehow—was the worst part of all.
The ache of it hollowed him out in a way no failure ever had.
Because for the first time in years, he had wanted someone to believe in him.
Even if it was the one person he could never afford to let close.
He raked a hand through his hair, loosened the top button of his shirt, feeling like he was suffocating in a cage he had built with his own hands.
Tomorrow, they'd have to face each other again.
Tomorrow, he’d have to pretend none of this mattered.
But tonight, he let himself feel the smallest piece of regret.
A crack in the armor.
A tiny fracture that terrified him more than he’d ever admit.
Because Arielle had drawn a line in the sand.
And deep down, some part of him—
A part he thought he had buried long ago—
Wanted to cross it.
- Writer
