Breaking Point

CHAPTER 20

The lounge was quiet.

Almost too quiet.

Every small noise—the hum of the fridge, the faint clatter of cups from the distant kitchen—felt amplified. My chest tightened. My heart raced.

Every time I glanced at Reign, it was like the world shrank.

He didn’t speak at first. Just leaned there, calm, composed, and impossibly intimidating. Even when he didn’t try, he commanded the room.

“You need to know something,” he finally said.

I blinked. “About… Ivy?”

He shook his head slowly. “About today. About you. About… everything.”

The word 'everything' hung in the air. Heavy. Dangerous.

“I…” My voice faltered. “I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t need to say anything,” he replied. Stepping closer, but not too close. Not yet. “Just… listen.”

And I did.

“Today,” he started, voice low and deliberate, “I realised just how much they’ve underestimated you. Ivy, the board, even some colleagues—they see you as inexperienced. As someone who can be pushed around. But you… you’re different. Stronger than they think.”

Heat rose to my cheeks. My chest tightened. I wanted to deny it, but the truth was raw and undeniable.

“You… think I’m strong?” I whispered.

“I know you are,” he said. Soft. Intense. Like he was speaking directly to me, bypassing every defence I had. “And you’ve proven it. Not just by handling Ivy. Not just by staying calm. But by standing there. Right beside me. Even when it was dangerous.”

My fingers clenched in my lap. I wanted to tell him I didn’t need defending. But… the truth was, I wanted him there.

“And yet,” he continued, “you still second-guess yourself.”

I flinched. He always knew. Always. “I… I just—”

“You’re human,” he interrupted. Calm. Not sharp. “Being human means doubt. But today, you didn’t let it rule you. You let courage take over. That’s why you’re here. That’s why you matter.”

I wanted to look away. But I couldn’t. My eyes stayed locked on his.

And then… he stepped closer.

The lounge shrank. The world outside disappeared.

I could feel the heat from him, smell the faint woodsy cologne, and feel the weight of his presence.

“I—” I tried. Words failed.

“Shh,” he whispered. Just a sound. But it made my pulse spike. He tilted his head, eyes dark and unyielding. “Don’t say anything. Just… breathe.”

I did. Tried to. My chest felt too tight. My hands shook. He was too close. Too dangerous. Too… perfect.

And then the phone on the counter buzzed.

Sharp. Jarring.

I jumped slightly. He did too. Just a fraction. Then control returned. The tension lingered.

“It’s… just a message,” I murmured.

He watched me. “From whom?”

“I… don’t know. Work notification,” I said quickly. “Probably nothing important.”

His eyes narrowed. “Show me.”

I hesitated. Then slid the screen toward him.

Three words. We need to talk.

Ivy. Of course.

His jaw tightened. Fingers clenched briefly at his sides. Then back to me. “She’s pushing. Trying to unsettle you. Don’t respond.”

“I won’t,” I said. “I… I don’t know why she’s doing this.”

“Because she’s dangerous. Clever. Relentless,” he said softly, almost to himself. Then, sharper, looking at me: “And you’ve got to trust me. Let me handle her. Let me… be here. For you. Always.”

The words hit me like a punch. I wanted to argue. Say I could handle myself. But I couldn’t. Not when he looked at me like that.

“I… I trust you,” I admitted.

A shadow of a smile. Rare. Almost human. Vulnerable. My chest ached in response.

“Good,” he said. Calm. Certain. “Because from here on, you’ll need to. Ivy isn’t done. And neither are the others who think they can undermine you.”

I swallowed. My pulse is still racing. Every instinct screamed to pull back. But another instinct—deeper—kept me rooted.

“Now,” he said. Sharp. Commanding. “We need a plan.”

I straightened. Took a breath. “Okay. What’s the plan?”

He leaned against the counter, arms crossed. “First, you ignore her messages. Every reaction is fuel. She feeds off it. Don’t give her the satisfaction.”

“I can do that,” I said, though part of me worried.

“Second, we control the narrative. You and I. Together. You’ve got presence. But you have to believe it. Confidence isn’t optional with her. And I’ll back you.”

“Third,” he said, voice low again, locking eyes with me, “anticipate her moves. Ivy thrives on surprise. Take that away. Step ahead. Always.”

I nodded. The tension in my shoulders loosened slightly. Not safe. Not calm. But prepared.

And then… he surprised me.

“Finally…” His tone softened. Personal. Dangerous. Almost intimate. “…you need to understand this. I trust you. More than anyone. And that means I’m willing to let you see the part of me most people don’t. But only if you can handle it. Only if you can be as brave with me as you are in the office.”

I blinked. “I… I think I can.”

He smiled. Rare. Vulnerable. Human. My chest twisted painfully.

“I know you can,” he said.

The lounge shrank again. Tension is thick. Electricity in the air.

I realised today hadn’t just been about Ivy. Or work. Or control.

It had been about us.

Boundaries tested. Lines crossed. Courage found. Sparks undeniable.

The message from Ivy buzzed again. I ignored it. He noticed. Approved.

I made a decision.

I wouldn’t let fear control me. I wouldn’t let Ivy, or the board, or even my own doubts push me back.

I would stand. I would fight.

And I would let him in.

For the first time, I didn’t just want to survive the storm.

I wanted to stand in the eye of it.

With him.

And that was terrifying.

And exhilarating.

The buzz of my phone faded. The lounge returned to quiet. But nothing between us had changed.

We didn’t need words.

Not yet.

We only needed the understanding. The shared breath. The unspoken promise.

That we were on the same side.

And that, no matter what Ivy tried, we’d face it together.