The conference room at Cross Enterprises always looked like it belonged to a different planet—sterile light, glass walls that made privacy a performance, and a skyline view sharp enough to cut. That morning, Adrian sat at the head of the table while the board murmured around him, their voices blending into a hum of restrained panic.
The word scandal had found its way into the quarterly agenda.
Alexander leaned forward, hands clasped, face composed but voice measured in careful precision. “We’ve contained worse,” he said. “But not with this level of scrutiny. Not when the press keeps linking Cross to her.”
Her. They didn’t even bother to say Trina’s name.
“She’s not an employee,” Adrian said, tone calm but cold. “She’s not a representative of the company.”
“She’s attached to you,” one
