CHAPTER SEVEN

Damien's POV

HR called me at 7 AM Monday morning, before Alex and I could schedule our disclosure meeting.

"Mr. Cross, we need to see you immediately. It's regarding a complaint filed Friday evening."

My blood ran cold. "What kind of complaint?"

"We'll discuss it in person. Please come to conference room B."

I texted Alex: "Don't come in yet. HR called. Someone already reported us."

His response was immediate: "On my way anyway."

"Alex, don't—"

"We do this together or not at all."

I wanted to argue, to protect him, but I knew he was right. Whatever was coming, we'd face it together.

Twenty minutes later, we sat across from Jennifer Chen, head of HR, and Marcus Webb, the company's legal counsel. The atmosphere was glacial.

"Mr. Cross, Mr. Parker." Jennifer opened a folder. "We received an anonymous complaint Friday at 5:47 PM alleging an undisclosed intimate relationship between you two. Is this accurate?"

I glanced at Alex. He nodded slightly.

"Yes," I said. "We were planning to disclose it this morning."

"Friday was three days ago," Marcus said. "How long has this relationship been ongoing?"

"Officially? Three weeks," Alex said. "But we met anonymously before that, not knowing we worked together."

Jennifer's eyebrow raised. "Anonymously?"

We explained again—the app, the conversations, the hotel room revelation. It sounded even more absurd in a corporate conference room.

"So you're telling me," Marcus said slowly, "that you two developed a relationship online, met in person, discovered you were CEO and employee, and then continued the relationship without disclosure?"

"That's correct," I said.

"For three weeks."

"Yes."

"During which time, Mr. Parker, you were assigned to lead the Vertex rebranding campaign. A position that reports directly to Mr. Cross."

Alex's jaw tightened. "I was assigned that position before we became involved."

"But you accepted it after," Jennifer said. "Knowing you were in a relationship with the person you'd be reporting to."

"I earned that position."

"I don't doubt your qualifications, Mr. Parker. But the optics are problematic." She pulled out another document. "We've also received complaints from other employees about favoritism. Late night meetings, closed-door sessions, preferential treatment."

"Those meetings were about the campaign," I said.

"Were they?" Marcus slid a printed email across the table. It was from my assistant, noting that I'd blocked out three hours last Tuesday for "Alex Parker—private discussion." "What was discussed in this private, three-hour meeting?"

I couldn't tell them the truth—that we'd spent two hours working and one hour arguing about whether to disclose our relationship. That would only confirm their suspicions.

"Campaign strategy," I said.

"For three hours? With just the two of you?"

"It was a complex discussion."

"I'm sure it was." Jennifer closed the folder. "Here's our situation. Company policy requires immediate disclosure of relationships between employees at different levels. You violated that policy for three weeks. During that time, Mr. Cross gave Mr. Parker a high-profile assignment, increased access, and preferential treatment that other employees noticed. Whether the relationship influenced those decisions is irrelevant—the appearance of impropriety is enough."

"What are you saying?" Alex asked.

"I'm saying we have three options." She counted on her fingers. "One: Mr. Cross resigns. Two: Mr. Parker resigns. Three: Mr. Parker is reassigned to a different department with no reporting relationship to Mr. Cross, and you both face formal reprimands that go in your permanent files."

"That's it?" I said. "Those are the only options?"

"Company policy is clear," Marcus said. "Relationships between supervisors and subordinates create liability. We have to protect the company."

"From what? Two people who care about each other?"

"From lawsuits, Mr. Cross. From claims of sexual harassment, hostile work environment, quid pro quo. Your relationship with Mr. Parker, regardless of how it started, creates exposure we can't ignore."

Alex stood up. "I'll resign."

"No." I grabbed his arm. "You're not sacrificing your career for this."

"Better than you sacrificing yours."

"Sit down," Jennifer said firmly. "Both of you. We're not finished."

We sat.

"There is a fourth option," she said carefully. "But it would require significant changes and complete transparency moving forward."

"What option?" I asked.

"Mr. Parker transfers to our New York office. Different location, different reporting structure, no conflict of interest. You maintain your relationship, but it's no longer a company liability because you're not working in the same office."

New York. Three thousand miles away.

"No," I said immediately.

"It's the only way you both keep your jobs and your relationship," Marcus said. "And frankly, it's generous considering the policy violations."

"How is separating us generous?"

"You violated company policy, Mr. Cross. Multiple policies, actually. Undisclosed relationship, preferential treatment, misuse of company resources for personal matters—those three-hour private meetings weren't free." He leaned forward. "We could terminate both of you for cause. No severance, no references. The New York transfer is a gift."

Alex was very quiet beside me. Too quiet.

"Can we discuss this privately?" I asked.

"You have until end of business today," Jennifer said. "After that, we make the decision for you."

They left us alone in the conference room.

"Don't say it," I said immediately.

"I have to take it."

"No, you don't. We'll figure something else out."

"Like what, Damien? You heard them. It's New York, resignation, or you lose everything you've built." He turned to face me. "Your grandmother's company, your brother's legacy—you can't throw that away for a three-week relationship."

"It's not just three weeks. You know that."

"Do I? Because right now it feels like three weeks of texting and a fantasy I convinced myself was real." His voice cracked. "Maybe they're right. Maybe this whole thing was just bad judgment from the start."

"You don't mean that."

"Don't I?" He stood up, pacing. "Think about it. We met anonymously, built something in a vacuum, then tried to force it to work in reality. Of course it fell apart. We were idiots to think otherwise."

"Alex—"

"I'll take the New York position. It's the smart choice."

"Smart for who?"

"For both of us. You keep your company, I advance my career, and we both move on like adults." He wouldn't look at me. "Long distance never works anyway."

"We haven't even tried."

"Because it's not worth trying!" He finally met my eyes. "I can't be the reason you lose everything, Damien. I won't be."

The door opened. Jennifer returned with papers.

"Have you made a decision?"

"Yes," Alex said before I could speak. "I'll take the New York transfer. When do I start?"

"Two weeks. We'll process the paperwork this afternoon."

"No," I said. "We're not doing this."

"It's already done." Alex signed the papers without hesitation. "Thank you for the opportunity."

Jennifer looked between us, her expression softening slightly. "I'm sorry it came to this. For what it's worth, I believe you about how the relationship started. But rules exist for a reason."

She left again.

"Alex—"

"I need to go pack up my desk." He stood. "And Damien? Don't make this harder than it already is."

He walked out, leaving me alone in the conference room with the signed transfer papers and the wreckage of whatever we'd been building.

I pulled out my phone and called Maya.

"He took the New York transfer," I said when she answered.

"Damn it. I was afraid of that."

"Talk to him. Make him see this is insane."

"Damien, he's trying to protect you."

"I don't need protection. I need him."

She was quiet for a moment. "Then you need to decide what you're willing to sacrifice to keep him. Because right now, he thinks the answer is nothing, and that's why he's leaving."

She hung up.

I sat there staring at those papers, feeling everythi

ng slip through my fingers, and realized she was right.

I had two weeks to prove Alex wrong.

Two weeks to show him I'd sacrifice everything if it meant keeping him.

Starting now.