Chapter 10– Stand Or Break

Aria’s POV

I've been silent and compliant for weeks. I've accepted blame for things that weren't my fault. I've let Victoria humiliate me in front of my coworkers without defending myself. But I'm done.

I stand as every eye in the room tracks me as I reach for my tablet.

"Actually," my voice is steady "I have documentation here."

Victoria's expression flickers. Just for a second. But I caught it.

"Excuse me?" Her tone sharpens. "I don't think"

"Project assignments are logged in our system." I swipe through my tablet, pulling up the files I've meticulously organized, survival instinct made me document everything. "The campaign team was assigned on September third. The team members were Olivia, Rodriguez, Sam, and yourself as lead."

I turn the tablet around, showing the screen to the room as serval people lean forward to see.

"My name appears nowhere on the assignment roster." I switch to another document. "Additionally, I have emails from September 5th where I questioned the targeting strategy being implemented. You responded that my input wasn't needed as I wasn't on the project team."

The silence is deafening.

Victoria's face flushes red, her composure cracking. "That doesn't mean"

"I also have time logs showing my hours were allocated to seventeen other projects during the campaign timeline." I'm calm now, my voice professional. "I physically couldn't have contributed to the campaign because I was working on the assignments you gave me directly."

I set the tablet on the table. The evidence speaks for itself.

"So no, Victoria, I won't explain what went wrong with the campaign. Because I had nothing to do with it."

The room erupts in whispers Olivia is staring at her laptop, probably pulling up the same documents. Rodriguez's eyes are wide.Victoria's mouth opens, but no words come out.

"Interesting."Damien's voice cuts through the chaos. He pushes off the doorframe and walks into the room with that smug grace. Everyone falls silent.

He picks up my tablet without asking for permission. His gray eyes scan the screen, scrolling through my documentation. The seconds stretch into eternity.

I can't breathe. This is it. I just publicly contradicted his cousin, embarrassed her in front of the team. He's going to fire me or worse.

Damien looks up from the tablet. His gaze locks onto mine.

I can't read his expression. It's blank, cold, calculating. But something flickers in his eyes, something I can't identify.

"Ms. Holt is correct." He sets the tablet down. "She wasn't assigned to campaign."

Victoria's face goes from red to white. "Damien, I…"

"Victoria." He doesn't look at her. "My office. Now.”

The command is quiet but absolute. Victoria stands, smoothing her white suit, trying to salvage her composure. She shoots me a look of pure venom as she passes.I've just made a powerful enemy.

Damien follows Victoria out. At the doorway, he pauses and turns. His eyes find mine across the conference room. For three seconds, maybe four, he studies my face. I don't know what he's looking for. Don't know what he sees. Then he's gone, the door closing behind him.

The room explodes.

"Holy shit," someone whispers. "Did she just…"

"Victoria's going to kill her." Another says.

Olivia catches my eye and nods once. Respect, maybe. Or solidarity. It's the first kind gesture I've received from anyone on this floor.

I gather my things with shaking hands. My adrenaline is crashing, leaving me hollow and terrified. I stood up for myself. I fought back. And I have no idea if I just won a battle or signed my own death warrant.

Back at my cubicle, I can't focus. Can't work. I stare at my computer screen, unseeing, replaying the confrontation over and over.

The whispers on the floor have changed. They're not just about me being David Holt's daughter anymore. Now they're about the woman who challenged Victoria Cross and walked away alive at least for now.

My desk phone rings at two PM from an internal line.

I stare at it my heart hammering. It rings again and again.

I answer.

"Ms. Holt." Elena Santos's voice is carefully neutral. "Mr. Cross would like to see you at the Fortieth floor." The line goes dead.

I stand on shaking legs. This is it. Whatever happened in his office with Victoria, whatever decision he made? I'm about to find out.

The elevator ride feels like ascending to an execution. Elena meets me outside Damien's office. Her expression is unreadable.

"Go ahead," she says softly. "He's expecting you."

I knock once and enter. Damien sits at his desk, typing something on his computer. He doesn't look up when I enter. Doesn't acknowledge my presence for a full minute. I stand there, waiting, my heart trying to escape my chest.

Finally, he stops typing. Leans back in his chair and study me with those cold gray eyes. "Sit."

I sit.

"That was quite a performance in the conference room." His voice gives nothing away. "Standing up to Victoria in front of the entire team."

"I was defending myself with facts." I keep my tone level. "I won't accept blame for failures that aren't mine."

"No?" His eyebrow arches slightly. "Even when accepting blame might be... safer?"

The threat is veiled but clear.

"Safe hasn't gotten me anywhere." The words come out before I can stop them. "I've been compliant for weeks and all it's earned me is more abuse."

His eyes flash with something. Anger? Interest? I can't tell. "So you've decided to fight back." He stands, moving to the windows. "Interesting timing."

"I have nothing left to lose." It's almost true. "You've already made it clear I'm here to suffer. Might as well do it with my dignity intact."

He laughs. It's a dark sound, devoid of humor. "Dignity." He turns to face me. "You think dignity matters here?"

"It matters to me." I say my voice cracking.

We stare at each other across the office. Then his expression shifts and becomes unreadable again.

"You're not fired," he says abruptly. "Despite embarrassing my CFO in front of her team. Despite making her look incompetent. You keep your job."

Relief and confusion war in my chest. "Why?"

"Because you were right." He moves back to his desk, pulling out his phone. "And I don't tolerate sloppy work, even when it's meant to punish someone I hate."

He types something on his phone, then looks up at me. "You can go."

I stand, but his voice stops me at the door. "Ms. Holt?"

I turn.

"Don't mistake this for mercy." His gray eyes are focused on me. "You won this round because you came prepared. But this game isn't over. Not even close."

I nod once and leave. In the elevator, my knees finally give out. I lean against the wall, breathing hard.