My Corporate Affair

Chapter Twenty-One

Elliot....

The walls of my parents’ house felt tighter than usual, like they were closing in on me.

My father was on the phone again, pacing the length of the hallway like a general in a war room. His voice was sharp, the usual calm gone.

“I don’t care what it costs,” he said. “I want every single platform to pull that video down. It should’ve never made it online in the first place.”

My mother’s heels clicked against the marble floor as she stormed into the living room. Her face was flushed with frustration, and her eyes were narrowed in disbelief.

“What were you thinking?” she snapped. “Do you know what this could do to the company? To our name?”

I didn’t respond. I couldn’t.

It wasn’t the video I was thinking about. Or the press. Or even the embarrassment of the whole world seeing me drunk and messy in a place I shouldn’t have been.

All I could think about was her.

Sophie.

Had she seen it yet? Probably. Everyone had.

Was she disgusted? Shocked?

The image of her face, so soft, so bright,filled my head, and for a second, it physically hurt. I had no right to want her to still see me the same way, but I did.

My mother’s voice pierced through my thoughts. “You were twenty-four, Elliot. Twenty-four! You don’t get to call that naive anymore.”

“I know,” I said quietly, staring at the floor.

“You’ve worked too hard, and now this?” she raged. “There are investors calling. Clients are nervous. This isn’t just some small mistake. This is a disaster.”

“I didn’t mean for it to happen,” I muttered, my voice flat.

My father walked in, his phone now at his side, his face drawn and pale. “They’re trying. But it’s spreading too fast.”

I rubbed a hand over my face, barely holding myself together.

All the yelling, all the threats, all the disappointment, it barely touched me.

Because the only thing I truly cared about was what Sophie must be thinking.

Did she believe that version of me? The one caught in flashing lights, surrounded by noise, with lipstick I didn’t recognize smeared against my collar?

Did she think I was that guy?

God… I hated this.

I stood up abruptly, and both my parents looked at me, startled.

But I couldn’t stay there another second.

I needed air. Silence. Space to breathe.

And maybe... I just wanted to feel like myself again, whoever that even was.

The silence in my apartment was deafening.

No ringing phones. No shouting voices. No headlines flashing across a screen. Just me, finally alone… and yet, I felt anything but at peace.

I dropped onto my bed, still fully dressed, arms spread out as I stared at the ceiling. My body was heavy, weighed down by exhaustion and shame. Every time I closed my eyes, flashes of that stupid video came back to me. My expression. My posture. The careless smile I wore like nothing mattered.

It mattered now.

I ran a hand through my hair and let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. My mind spiraled, racing through every face in the office. Every employee. Every team member who once looked at me with a little respect, what were they thinking now?

Were they laughing behind closed doors?

Were they disappointed?

God, did they even take me seriously anymore?

And then there was Sophie.

My chest tightened again.

I didn’t even want to imagine what she thought. She was smart, innocent, hardworking… and probably wondering what kind of man she’d been working under. What kind of boss she had.

I turned my head to the side, staring at nothing.

Everything felt like a mess. Like one single thread had unraveled, and the whole suit came undone.

I couldn’t hide behind silence or apologies anymore. I had to face it.

Tomorrow… I’d go back to the office. Call the team. Pause the project. At least until things calmed down.

Until I figured out how to fix this.

If I even could.

I closed my eyes and tried to rest. But all I could hear was the noise I left behind, and the quiet disappointment I imagined on Sophie’s face.

And somehow… that was the worst part.

Sophie....

I watched the video again.

It was stupid of me, maybe, but I needed to see it one more time. To understand what everyone was talking about. To make sense of the man I’d come to know… and the man in that clip.

It played on my phone screen , loud music, flashing lights, Elliot laughing, a drink in hand, pulling someone into a kiss. He looked younger. Not just physically, but in the way he carried himself. Reckless. Carefree. A little lost, even.

I paused it halfway, the screen frozen on his smile , that old version of him.

And it hit me.

This wasn’t him anymore.

It was years ago. He must’ve been what, twenty-three? People make mistakes. God knows I’ve made my fair share, and I haven’t even lived half as much life as he has. He looked so different back then. The Elliot I knew now , or at least, the one I was slowly starting to see ,was quieter. More thoughtful. There was this heaviness in his eyes sometimes, like he’d seen too much and learned to carry it alone.

He had responsibilities now. A whole company under his name. Pressure most of us couldn’t even imagine. And honestly? What he did years ago at club wasn’t anyone’s business.

Not mine. Not the internet. Not the entire office whispering over coffee this morning.

I turned off my phone and slid it into my bag.

Whatever people were saying… I wasn’t going to be one of them.

Elliot....

The moment I stepped into the office, I felt it.

The air wasn’t the same. It was heavier… colder.

People looked at me, but not like they used to. Their eyes didn’t light up, their smiles didn’t come so easily. Some looked away quickly. Others stared a second too long, like I was some headline walking in, not their boss.

I knew why.

And even though I had braced myself, it still hit harder than I expected.

I couldn’t blame them. They’d seen it. Everyone had. And there was nothing I could do now to erase the version of me the internet had dragged out from the past.

I walked straight to my office, dropped my bag on the couch, and took a deep breath before calling in the team. They filed into the meeting room slowly, quieter than usual. A tension lingered between them — like they weren’t sure how to act around me anymore.

I stood at the head of the table, hands in my pockets, gaze low for a second before I forced myself to speak.

“The project is suspended.”

A few gasps. Some exchanged glances. I didn’t elaborate. Couldn’t. My voice was steady, but my chest was tight.

They deserved more, I knew. But I wasn’t ready to explain myself. Not like this.

And then… I looked at her.

Sophie.

She was sitting near the end of the table. She wasn’t whispering, wasn’t avoiding my eyes like the others. Her gaze met mine — soft, calm, open. Like she saw me… not the video, not the scandal, not the mess. Just me.

And in that moment, it meant more than I could ever admit.

One by one, they began to leave the room, quiet murmurs, hushed footsteps, no usual laughter or idle chatter. I remained standing, hands still shoved in my pockets, but my eyes followed only one person.

Sophie.

She stood up slowly, clutching her notebook to her chest, her expression unreadable. And before I could stop myself, the words slipped out.

“Sophie.”

She turned, her steps halting. I didn’t even know what I wanted to say, I just needed her to stop, to look at me. And she did.

There was a long pause. The silence stretched between us.

I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. My throat felt dry. What could I even say?

But before I could find the words, she spoke first.

“I know,” she said gently, walking a little closer. “I know that was years ago… You were young. Naive, maybe. But it’s your past. And no one has the right to judge you for it.”

She just stood there, eyes fixed on me. And before I could hold it back, I felt it, the sting at the back of my eyes, the tight knot in my throat. I looked away quickly, trying to blink it away, but I knew it was too late. The weight of everything… it was crashing in.

Then she stepped closer.

Her presence was calm, grounding. And when she was right in front of me, I finally let the words tumble out.

“People are looking up to me,” I said quietly, my voice barely holding steady. “And I’ve disappointed them. All of them.”

My eyes dropped to the floor. I couldn’t bear to meet hers. Not after everything. But her voice was soft when it came again, so soft it felt like something I’d been craving for far too long.

“Sir… everyone makes mistakes,” she said, her tone gentle, like she was afraid I’d break if she spoke any louder. “You were younger. You didn’t know better. What matters is who you are now.”

I didn’t respond. I couldn’t.

And that’s when the first tear fell.

I didn’t even realize it had escaped until I felt her hand move slowly, carefully, to my cheek. She wiped it away, softly, like it didn’t scare her. Like I didn’t scare her.

“You can’t let this bury you,” she whispered. “You have to stand up for yourself. Show them who you really are now. Prove them wrong.”

Her hand lingered for a moment longer.

And in that moment… for the first time in a long while, I didn’t feel so alone.