IN LOVE WITH MY EMPLOYER

6: The Board Is Not Neutral

didn’t sleep. I lay awake staring at the unfamiliar ceiling, listening to a house that was too quiet for comfort. Every sound, the soft hum of hidden systems and distant footsteps echoing somewhere far away, reminded me that this place wasn’t mine. I was a guest. Worse, I was evidence. By the time morning came, exhaustion had already settled deep in my bones.

Mrs. Hale knocked at exactly seven. “Good morning, Miss Julie. Breakfast is ready.”

I forced myself out of bed, washed, and dressed in the clothes laid out for me sometime in the night. They were simple, elegant, and far too expensive, more costume than comfort. When I entered the dining room, Nataliel was already there, scrolling through something on his tablet. He looked composed, untouched by the weight pressing down on my chest.

“Eat,” he said without looking up. I sat slowly. “You said the board wanted to meet me.” “Yes.” My fingers tightened around the fork. “Why?” He finally looked at me. “Because you’re part of the narrative now.”

That wasn’t comforting.

The drive to Brooklyn Group felt shorter this time, familiar in the worst way. The building rose ahead of us, all glass and authority, as if nothing inside it could ever be questioned. The boardroom sat at the very top floor with no windows and no glass walls, only a long polished table and seats arranged like judgment. I counted them as I stepped inside. Seven. Seven people who could decide whether my life continued forward or ended quietly.

The room fell silent. Nataliel took the seat at the head of the table. I wasn’t offered one, so I stood.

“Miss Dims,” a woman with silver hair said at last, “thank you for coming on such short notice.”

I nodded. “Of course.” We understand this is your first day,” another man added mildly.

“Yes. “And yet you’ve already caused quite a disturbance.” My heart pounded. Nataliel said nothing.

“Tell us, Julie,” the silver-haired woman continued, “why do you think your login was used to alter a confidential report?” “I don’t know,” I said. “You don’t know,” the man repeated with faint amusement.

“I was assigned a file and told to deliver it. I didn’t edit anything.” “And yet your name was attached. I lifted my chin. “On my first day.” A murmur rippled around the table.

“Ignorance is an interesting defense,” someone said.

Nataliel’s fingers tapped once against the table and silence returned.

“Do you understand how easily intern accounts can be manipulated?” the silver-haired woman asked.

I hesitated.

“They’re designed to be disposable,” she continued. “Temporary. Replaceable.” The words stung.

“So why should we believe you weren’t involved?”

My mouth went dry, but before fear could swallow me, I spoke. “Because I had nothing to gain. I took student loans to be here. I applied to Brooklyn Group because I believed merit mattered. I didn’t come here to steal.”

“And yet you accepted protection from our CEO,” a man said sharply.

I turned instinctively toward Nataliel. He didn’t look at me.

“I didn’t ask for protection,” I said. “I was told the alternative was worse.” That earned a reaction.

The silver-haired woman smiled faintly. “Honest.”

Nataliel finally spoke. “If we’re done intimidating an intern, I’d like to move on.”

One of the men scoffed. “You brought her into your home.”

“She is under my responsibility,” Nataliel replied evenly.

“That’s exactly the problem. It creates optics. “So what exactly is your relationship with our CEO, Miss Dims?” the silver-haired woman asked calmly.

My breath caught. This wasn’t the question I’d prepared for. I opened my mouth, then closed it. Seven pairs of eyes waited. I glanced toward Nataliel, but he hadn’t looked at me once since we entered.

Before I could force the words out, Nataliel spoke. “She doesn’t need to answer that. I will. The air shifted. “Julie Dims is my fiancée.”

Shock rippled through the room. “After one day?” someone scoffed. Yes,” Nataliel said calmly.

The silver-haired woman’s gaze sharpened. “Then this becomes complicated. “On the contrary, it becomes clear.” Clear that you’re biased.

“Watch your language,” Nataliel said coldly. “Or you’ll remember who runs this company.” Silence followed.

Finally, the silver-haired woman raised a hand. “Two days. Prove she didn’t alter the report. After that, there will be no protection.”

Nataliel smiled at the board members. It wasn’t friendly. It wasn’t peaceful. It was a reminder.

“I think some of you have forgotten who this company belongs to,” he said calmly. “Yes, my grandfather is the majority holder—for now. But I am his heir.”

He let that settle before continuing. “I currently hold forty-seven percent of the shares. Second only to him.”

His gaze moved slowly across the table, stopping on each face in turn. “Which means the day I no longer need your opinions is approaching faster than you think.”

Silence followed.

“Watch your mouths,” Nataliel added quietly. “This is all for now.”

The meeting adjourned.

Outside the boardroom, the doors closed softly.

“I didn’t know you were going to say that,” I whispered.

“You hesitated,” Nataliel replied. “That told me everything.”

“You just put your credibility on the line.”

“Yes,” he said. “And now they’ll try to break it.”

As we stepped into the elevator, I saw the looks, curious, calculating, already whispering. Surviving the board hadn’t saved me. It had marked me. Somewhere above us, a message appeared in a private thread. She’s stronger than expected. Then we test her properly.

The elevator doors slid shut. I didn’t know it yet, but surviving the board meeting was only the beginning of the war