The Board And The Boss

I woke up alone.

The other side of the bed was cold.

But there was a note on Damian’s pillow.

_Ava,_

_Board meeting. 8AM.

Don’t come to the office.

-D_

Don’t come to the office.

Right. Because I was a secret. Because I was a Sinclair.

I crumpled the note and threw it away.

Then I went to the shower.

---

10AM.

Liam’s transplant was moved to Friday. Today was Wednesday.

Two days.

I sat by his bed, reading to him. Space books. His favorite.

“AVI, read the one about Mars again!”

I smiled. “Bossy.”

The door opened.

Damian.

Black suit. No tie. Dark circles under his eyes.

He looked like he hadn’t slept.

“Hey,” I said.

“Hey.” His eyes went to Liam, then back to me. “How is he?”

“Good. Doctor says his counts are up.”

Damian nodded. He didn’t come closer. Stood by the door like a stranger.

“I have to go. Flight to Chicago. Board wants me there.”

“Oh.” My stomach dropped. “When will you be back?”

“Tomorrow night.” A pause. “Mrs. Ellis will be with you.”

Mrs. Ellis. Not him.

“Right,” I said quietly. “Safe flight.”

He left without kissing me. Without touching me.

Like last night never happened.

---

7PM.

I was back at the penthouse. Alone.

The place felt 10 times bigger without him.

My phone buzzed.

Unknown number.

*UNKNOWN: Mrs. Cole? This is Victoria Cole. Damian’s aunt. We need to talk. Cole Tower. 39th floor. Now.*

My blood went cold.

I shouldn’t go. Damian said don’t come to the office.

But she was family. And I was his wife.

I went.

---

39th floor. Boardroom.

12 people. All in suits. All old. All staring at me like I was dirt.

At the head of the table sat a woman. 60s. Pearl necklace. Ice in her eyes.

Victoria Cole.

“Ah. The bride.” She didn’t stand. “Sit.”

I sat. At the very end of the table.

“We’ll get straight to it,” she said. “This marriage is a disgrace.”

“I—”

“Quiet. Damian isn’t here to protect you.” She leaned forward. “We know why you did it. Money. The Sinclair family has been trying to claw their way back for 3 years.”

“It’s not about money. It’s about my brother.”

“Even worse.” She smiled. Cold. “Using a child’s illness to trap my nephew.”

Anger flared. “He offered the contract. I didn’t ask—”

“He’s a Cole. He does what he wants. And right now, what he wants is ruining this company.” She slid a paper across the table.

*PRESS RELEASE DRAFT*

_Damian Cole and Ava Sinclair to Announce Separation. Irreconcilable Differences._

“My god,” I whispered. “He doesn’t know about this.”

“No. And he won’t. Because you’re going to sign it.”

I stared at her. “No.”

Victoria’s eyes narrowed. “Excuse me?”

“I said no. I signed a 12-month contract. I’m not breaking it.”

“Then we’ll break you.” She snapped her fingers. A lawyer slid another paper.

*NON-DISCLOSURE + $5 MILLION PENALTY CLAUSE*

“Sign this. Take $500,000 and disappear. Or we sue you for fraud and take everything.”

My hands were shaking.

Liam. The hospital. The debt.

“I need to talk to Damian first.”

“You’ll do no such thing.” She stood. “You have 24 hours, Mrs. Sinclair. After that, we go public.”

---

I ran out of there. Down 39 floors. Into the rain.

No umbrella. No car.

My phone was dead.

I walked. 10 blocks. Soaked. Shaking.

By the time I got to the penthouse, I was numb.

The door was open.

Damian.

He was pacing. Shirt soaked too. Hair dripping.

He looked up when I came in and his face...

Relief. Then rage.

“Where the hell were you?!” He crossed the room in 2 steps. Grabbed my arms. “I’ve been calling you for 3 hours! Your phone is dead and the driver said you never came home!”

“Let go,” I whispered.

He did. Immediately. Like I’d burned him.

“What happened?”

I told him. Everything. Victoria. The board. The papers.

When I finished, he was silent.

Then he laughed. Once. Bitter.

“They went behind my back.”

“Damian, I’m sorry. I should’ve called—”

“Don’t.” He ran a hand through his wet hair. “It’s not your fault.”

He looked at me. Really looked. Soaked dress, shaking, mascara running.

“Come here.”

He pulled me into his arms. Tight.

I broke. All of it. The fear, the anger, the loneliness.

I cried into his shirt.

“Shhh,” he murmured, hand in my hair. “I’ve got you. They won’t touch you.”

“I don’t want the money,” I sobbed. “I just want Liam to be okay. And I don’t want—”

“Don’t want what?”

“I don’t want them to take you away from me.”

He froze. Then pulled back. Cupped my face.

His thumbs wiped my tears.

“Ava. Look at me.”

I did.

“I’m not going anywhere. Not because of them. Not because of a contract.”

His voice was rough. “Do you understand me?”

I nodded.

“Good.” He kissed my forehead. Then my cheeks. Then my lips.

Soft. Reassuring. “Now go change. You’re freezing.”

---

30 minutes later.

I was in dry clothes. His shirt again. Sitting on the couch with a blanket.

Damian was on the phone.

“No, I don’t care if it’s 2AM in Chicago. Get them on a call.

Yes, all of them. Including Victoria.

And get legal. I want every clause in that NDA burned.”

He hung up. Looked at me.

“Board meeting. Tomorrow. 9AM. You’re coming with me.”

“What? No. They hate me—”

“They work for me.” He sat next to me. Close. Our thighs touching.

“And you’re my wife. Time they remembered that.”

“I’m scared.”

“I know.” He took my hand. Laced our fingers. “But you’re not doing this alone. Not anymore.”

---

9AM. Cole Tower. 39th floor.

I walked in on his arm. White dress. Hair up. Head high.

Even though my legs were shaking.

Victoria was already there. She stood when she saw us.

“Damian. We can discuss this privately—”

“No.” He didn’t let go of my hand. “We discuss it here. With everyone.”

He led me to the head of the table. His chair.

And he pulled out the chair next to him. For me.

Gasps.

“Sit,” he said to me. Soft. Just for me.

I sat.

Damian stood. Hands on the table.

“Let’s be clear. Ava Sinclair is my wife. Legally and otherwise.

Anyone who has a problem with that can hand me their resignation on the way out.”

Silence.

Victoria stepped forward. “This is about the company. The shareholders—”

“The shareholders will get their dividends. As long as I’m CEO.”

He looked at her. “And I will be. For a long time.”

He picked up the press release draft. Ripped it in half.

Then the NDA. Ripped that too.

“From now on, anyone who touches my wife answers to me.

Are we clear?”

One by one, they nodded.

Except Victoria.

“This isn’t over, Damian.”

“It is.” His voice was final. “Meeting adjourned.”

---

In the elevator. Alone.

I was shaking again. But different this time.

Damian turned to me.

“You okay?”

“I think so.”

“Good.” He stepped closer. “Because you were incredible in there.”

“I was terrified.”

“I know.” He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. “But you didn’t run.”

“I didn’t want to.”

The elevator stopped. Penthouse.

We walked in. Quiet.

Damian shut the door. And then he was on me.

Not rough. Not angry.

Desperate.

He kissed me like he’d been holding it in for hours.

Hands in my hair, mouth on mine, backing me against the door.

“Damian,” I gasped between kisses.

“Tell me to stop,” he said against my lips.

“I don’t want you to.”

That was all he needed.

He picked me up. Carried me to the bedroom.

Laid me on the bed. Came over me.

The kiss was deep. Slow. Full of everything we hadn’t said.

Fear. Relief. Want.

His hands slid under my dress. Up my back.

I arched into him.

“Are you sure?” he whispered against my neck.

“Yes,” I breathed. “I’m sure.”

And this time, when he kissed me,

there was no contract.

No board.

No revenge.

Just him.

Just me.

And the fire we’d both been trying not to start.