Twisted Hearts

Chapter 2: The Boardroom Inquisition

The scent of bitter coffee clung to Elena’s throat as she pored over spreadsheets at 6 a.m., the glow of her laptop the only light in the dim boardroom. The Hudson risk assessment lay open beside her, marked with red highlights—structural repairs: $12 million, projected ROI: 27% over five years—but her mind kept drifting to Hawk’s last email, the one with the jasmine tea note. Why mention her mother?

“Ms. Lin?” Mia entered, balancing a tray of croissants and a steaming thermos. “Carter Global just released their bid for Hudson—$50 million, all cash, no contingencies.”

Elena’s pen snapped in her hand. “That’s $15 million over the property’s appraised value. They’re overbidding.”

Mia nodded, setting down the tray. “Gerald Foster’s already circulating a memo calling your ‘conditional bid’ reckless. He’s demanding a meeting at 9 a.m.”

Elena cursed under her breath. Of course Hawk would play this game—overinflate the price to make her cautious approach look weak. But why bleed money for a flawed property? Unless…

She pulled up the engineer reports he’d sent. The west wing’s foundation wasn’t just cracked—it was unstable, a liability that could sink any company post-purchase. Unless Carter Global plans to demolish it and build anew, she realized. But that would double their costs.

The puzzle pieces refused to align. Hawk wasn’t reckless; he was calculating. Every move had a purpose, even the ones that seemed to hand her an advantage.

By 9 a.m., the boardroom hummed with tension. Gerald Foster tapped his pen impatiently, his gaze lingering on Elena’s crisp black suit—at least she’d dressed the part today, he’d sneered in passing.

“Let’s cut to the chase,” Foster said, scrolling through his tablet. “Carter Global’s bid is clean, decisive. Yours is riddled with ‘what-ifs.’ Why should we gamble on a project they’re clearly willing to overpay for?”

Elena slid a revised projection across the table. “Because their bid is a facade. Hudson’s west wing can’t be saved—it needs a full teardown. Factor in demolition and rebuild costs, and Carter Global is looking at a $70 million investment, with a ROI that won’t break even for a decade.”

Martin Bell, the CFO, squinted at the numbers. “How do you know this?”

“Our… whistleblower provided schematics,” Elena lied, ignoring the way her stomach churned. Technically, Hawk was a whistleblower—just not the kind they imagined. “Carter Global is desperate to secure Hudson for their London hotel’s tax write-off. They’re not buying a landmark; they’re buying a financial lifeline.”

The room murmured, skepticism softening into curiosity. Elena pressed her advantage. “If we counter with $35 million, conditional on demolition rights, we can build a luxury resort from scratch—modern, sustainable, and profitable within three years. Carter Global can’t match that without bleeding their shareholders dry.”

Foster’s jaw set. “Or we could walk away, as I’ve been advising—”

His words were cut off by the ping of Elena’s phone. A new email flashed on the screen, subject line: You’re welcome, by the way – H.

She froze. In front of the entire board, Hawk had just sent her a taunting message, his name bold on the preview. Bell leaned forward, eyes narrowing. “Is that from Hawk Carter, Ms. Lin?”

“Just a spam filter glitch,” Elena lied, fumbling to turn off the screen. But Foster was already on his feet, reaching for her phone.

“Let’s see what our competitor has to say,” he sneered, swiping open the email. His face paled as he read the contents—*a photo of Elena and Hawk in the rain last night, her hand on his arm as she snatched the lingerie, captioned: Old friends reunite?

The room erupted in whispers. Elena’s heart raced—when had he taken that photo? She’d been too focused on the suitcase to notice his phone.

Foster rounded on her, fury in his eyes. “You expect us to believe Carter Global is working against you when their CEO is sending you flirtatious emails? Or is this some sick game of ***，Ms. Lin?”

“Absolutely not,” Elena said, voice steady despite the ice in her veins. “This is a smear tactic. Carter Global is trying to undermine our credibility—”

“By sending you photos of your clandestine meetings?” Foster scoffed. “We gave you a chance to lead, Elena, but it’s clear you’re too emotionally compromised to handle this bid. I move we table Hudson and reconsider leadership—”

“Wait.” Elena pulled out her phone, pulling up the engineer reports Hawk had sent. “Look at the timestamps. These files were sent before last night’s encounter. If we were colluding, why would he provide data that weakens his own bid?”

Bell studied the files, brow furrowing. “She’s right. The photos he just sent—they’re a distraction. The structural reports are damning for his company.”

Foster hesitated, caught between greed and suspicion. “Fine. But we want full transparency from now on. Any contact with Carter Global goes through me first. Understood?”

Elena nodded, seething. Transparency meant surveillance, but she’d won a reprieve—for now.

The moment the board adjourned, Elena stormed to her office, Mia hot on her heels. “He set you up,” Mia said, closing the door. “Sent the files first to earn your trust, then leaked the photo to make it look like a quid pro quo.”

“Of course he did,” Elena snapped, staring at the rain-streaked window. Hawk had played her like a violin—gave her the weapon, then revealed her holding it, making her look both complicit and naive.

But why? If he wanted her ousted, he could’ve just presented the structural flaws himself. Instead, he’d handed her the data, let her use it, then sabotaged her credibility after she’d gained the board’s tentative trust.

He’s not trying to sink the bid, she realized. He’s trying to force me to come to him.

Her phone pinged again. Another email from Hawk, no subject line.

Meet me at the Hudson site tonight, 8 p.m. Alone. I’ll explain the photo—and why I’m really bidding on this property. – H

Mia peeked over her shoulder. “You’re not seriously considering—”

“I have to,” Elena said, deleting the email. “He’s holding all the cards, and I need to know what he wants. Besides,” she added, grabbing her coat, “if he wanted to hurt me, he’d have done it already.”

Or maybe he already has, a quiet voice whispered. Ten years ago, when he left without a word.

The Hudson Waterfront site loomed like a ghost in the twilight, its boarded-up windows staring blankly at the river. Elena’s heels crunched on gravel as she approached, the scent of damp concrete and decay thick in the air.

Hawk stood on the crumbling dock, backlit by the setting sun, his silhouette familiar yet foreign. He turned as she approached, a flashlight in hand, his expression unreadable.

“Glad you came,” he said, voice softer than she expected. “I was worried you’d let Foster’s paranoia keep you away.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Elena said, keeping her distance. “Explain the photo. And the bid. Now.”

He clicked on the flashlight, sweeping it over the west wing’s foundation—cracks yawned like mouths, steel beams rusted through. “Carter Global’s bid isn’t about the hotel. It’s about the land.” He paused, meeting her gaze. “There’s something buried here, Elena. Something your father was looking for before he died.”

Her breath hitched. Her father. The man who’d drowned in a “boating accident” two weeks after visiting this site.

“What are you talking about?” she asked, voice steady only by force.

Hawk stepped closer, and she didn’t retreat, even as his cologne mingled with the river’s tang. “Your father found something in the Hudson archives—blueprints for a wartime bunker beneath the site. A bunker that, legend has it, contains documents proving my grandfather embezzled from your family’s company during World War II.”

Elena’s head spun. Embezzlement? The rivalry between their families had always been personal, but this—this was history, secrets buried for decades.

“And you want the bunker,” she said, “to destroy the evidence.”

Hawk’s laugh was bitter. “No. I want it to prove it. My father has spent his life blaming yours for our family’s downfall, but the truth is, my grandfather was a fraud. I want to end this feud, Elena. Once and for all.”

She searched his eyes, the storm-gray she’d once thought she knew better than her own. Could he be telling the truth?

Before she could answer, a distant rumble echoed—thunder, or the groan of unstable steel? Hawk’s hand shot out, grabbing her wrist, pulling her toward the dock’s edge.

“Stay back,” he said, voice urgent. “The foundation’s worse than I thought.”

His touch burned, familiar and electric, sending a shock through her arm. She pulled away, heart pounding—from the danger, or the proximity?

“I don’t trust you,” she said, though her voice wavered.

Hawk smiled, sad and sharp. “I know. But you will. Because the alternative is letting our families’ hatred destroy us both—just like it destroyed our fathers.”