Chapter 11
May 30, 2025
“I want the Hartwell account frozen. Effective immediately.”
Three heads snapped toward me like I’d just flipped the table. We were mid-briefing—Finance, Legal, Compliance. Everyone seated, everyone sweating. I didn’t leave room for hesitation.
“Send the order to Central. Notify the board after it’s done, not before.” I tapped the monitor, where flagged transactions glared back in red. “If Hartwell wants to scream, let them. They can’t explain these payouts, and I’m not here to babysit fraud.”
Silence.
Margaret, the senior legal advisor, finally cleared her throat. “With all due caution, this… might expose us. That account’s been protected under four CEOs.”
“Exactly,” I said. “And under me, it’s not.”
She nodded, stiffly. Someone scribbled a note like it might save them. Damon said nothing, but I felt his tension from the other end of the table. He wasn’t looking at the screen—he was looking at me.
By the time I made it back to my office, I could already feel the storm building. I’d barely opened an email when the door slammed open with enough force to shake the glass.
Damon didn’t knock. He never does.
“You froze Hartwell?” he snapped.
I didn’t look up. “Good afternoon to you too.”
His voice was razor-sharp. “You knew I was reviewing that case. And you went over my head.”
I met his glare, unflinching. “No, Ashcroft. I went through it.”
“You don’t get to pull the trigger without reading the room,” he said, stepping closer. “You have no idea how deep Hartwell goes. You just detonated a minefield.”
“I read the full financial trail. Twice,” I said, rising to my feet. “If you want to keep tiptoeing around landmines, fine. I’m here to blow them up.”
His jaw tightened. “You think that’s bold? It’s reckless.”
“And you think caution is leadership,” I said. “That’s why this company rotted under your watch.”
That landed. His mouth pulled tight. His hand curled at his side. He took another step—too close.
“You’re unbelievable,” he said.
“You’re boring,” I fired back.
“You don’t listen.”
“You don’t scare me.”
Now we were face to face. Too close. Too loud. Too quiet. Both of us breathing harder than we should have been.
“You walk in here like you’ve already won,” he said, voice low, simmering. “Like the rules don’t apply to you.”
“They don’t,” I said. “Not anymore.”
He stared at me, searching my face like he could decode the threat, or maybe the thrill.
“I don’t trust you,” he said.
I didn’t blink. “That makes two of us.”
The silence between us burned hotter than anything we’d said. Then, just as he turned to leave, his fingers brushed mine on the edge of the desk. Not accidental. Not innocent. Just enough to feel like a warning—or a promise.
He paused. Didn’t look back. Didn’t say a word.
When the door closed behind him, I still couldn’t move. I stood there, breath caught in my throat, hand frozen at my side, lips parted like I’d forgotten what came next.
Shit. What was that?
