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Chapter 112. The Leak Within.
Last Updated:
2025-10-20 18:03:14
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Between Her Shithead And The Wrong Brother Chapter 126. Health Complications.
Damon’s POVThe pain returned before dawn. Sharp, sudden, wrong. The monitor blinked faster, and the nurse called for the doctor. He stayed still, jaw tight, trying not to look weak. They said it was a flare-up, nothing critical, but his recovery paused. The word paused hit harder than the pain.He asked for his phone. The nurse refused. Orders from the doctor. He waited until she left, then reached anyway. His hands shook. He typed one message, Don’t tell them yet. Sent it before the screen dimmed again. The IV burned against his arm.By morning, Ariella already knew. The doctor had called, voice professional, guarded. She didn’t panic. She never did. She stood at the window of her office, phone still in hand, and made the first call to the PR head. “We keep this internal,” she said. “Medical privacy applies.” The answer came fast: “Already too late.”The article was small, then viral within an hour. Carter Group’s Chairman Suffers Setback. Phrases like uncertain leadership and possi
Between Her Shithead And The Wrong Brother Chapter 125. Strength in Unity.
Ariella’s POVDamon’s seat. The others noticed but said nothing. Papers rustled. Phones blinked. A few faces tried to read mine. I placed my folder down. “Let’s begin.” No one spoke. Then Mr. Verden leaned forward, voice polite. “For clarity, are you presiding today?”“Yes.”“Under what authorization?”I slid a document across the table. Damon’s signature. The legal clause beneath. No more questions. Mrs. Halden’s smile was thin. “We appreciate your… dedication. But some of us worry emotion may cloud decision-making in these times.”“Noted.” I turned a page. “Finance first. Q3 reports show stabilization. Debt exposure is down eight percent. The client's hold with Garvis Group is resolved.” No one interrupted. The report continued. Numbers, updates, corrections. No softness in my tone. Halfway through, a vibration on my tablet. A short message. Stay measured. You’re doing fine.Damon.I didn’t look up. My voice steadied further. “Next, supply division, adjustments already approved by t
Between Her Shithead And The Wrong Brother Chapter 124. Private Reckoning.
Ariella’s POVThe following week, Isabella made her move. A confidential report reached shareholders about “executive instability.” It carried no names but pointed enough to spark concern. I gathered immediate evidence, traced it to her department, and presented it to the board before she could frame a defense. “We don’t need speculation during transition phases,” I said firmly. “Our structure remains intact.” The room fell silent. Damon’s remote approval appeared on the shared file at that exact moment. It ended the matter.When I told him later, he listened quietly. “You’re defending me too much,” he said. “That’s my job,” I replied. “It’s supposed to be mine.” “Then recover faster,” I said. His eyes lifted briefly, something between anger and amusement flickering there. “You talk like someone preparing for war.” I said, “I am.”At night, when everything was calm again, he sent a single message: Thank you for not letting them eat me alive. I didn’t reply. Some acknowledgments worked
Between Her Shithead And The Wrong Brother Chapter 123. Pressure Points.
Ariella’sThe first week after Damon’s diagnosis was silent on the surface, but movement pulsed underneath. Board members started asking subtle questions through emails marked “routine.” Isabella was the first. Her message sounded polite, concern disguised as inquiry. She wanted an updated financial breakdown signed by Damon directly. It wasn’t standard protocol. I replied within minutes, attaching a summary I’d already vetted and signing his authorization line myself. The chain ended there, but the intent was noted.Sasha followed days later. She requested to “review transition procedures” in case of unexpected absences. I saw through the phrasing. She wasn’t asking; she was measuring the distance between authority and vulnerability. I forwarded the message to Damon’s secure folder, marked confidential, and responded with, “No transition required. Mr. Gray remains in charge.” Her reply came with one word: “Understood.” It wasn’t reassurance; it was acknowledgment of a new fault line
Between Her Shithead And The Wrong Brother Chapter 122. Diagnosis
Ariella’s POVThe results came just after dawn. The specialist entered quietly, holding a file too thin for comfort. Damon was awake and composed. I stood beside him, bracing for what was coming. The doctor didn’t soften it.Cardiac inflammation. Stress-induced arrhythmia. Manageable, but not optional. Medication, therapy, and monitored rest. There should be zero pressure. Every instruction sounded like a sentence Damon would never obey. His jaw tightened. “How long?” he asked.“Months, not weeks,” the doctor said.Silence stretched. Damon’s stare fixed on the wall. I waited for denial, but he only said, “I’ll recover quickly.”“If you don’t rest,” the doctor replied, “it could turn fatal.” Damon nodded once, like a man pretending to agree.After the doctor left, he reached for his phone. I took it before he could argue.“You need rest.”“What I need is control,” he said.“You can’t have both.”He turned away. The argument ended because he didn’t have the strength to continue. His han
Between Her Shithead And The Wrong Brother Chapter 121. Unexpected Collapse: The First Sign
Ariella’s POVHe arrived before sunrise. The office was silent. Damon sat still for a couple of seconds, neglecting the heap of papers on his desk. I walked in, untouched by Damon, who was seemingly lost in thought. When he saw me, he trembled.He’d been working through nights again. Reports piled, half-sorted. He pressed his chest once, quietly. I looked away.The meeting started at nine. His tone was steady. Halfway through, he paused, in silence, then recovered. His hand stayed clenched on the table until the end.When everyone left, I stayed. “You should rest.”“I’m fine,” he said, signing the same page twice.“Damon!”“Lack of sleep,” he cut in.From my office, I watched him move more slowly, rhythm broken. I remembered the last time he ignored warning signs. By noon, details blurred. Instructions repeated. Files misplaced. Staff whispered. I covered the gaps quietly. “You see?” he said weakly, still standing.I took a look at him again and retorted. "You look worried." He didn
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