CHAPTER 7

Take it down."

Adrian's voice cut through the room like a blade. "Every post. Every article. Every account pushing that photograph. I want them challenged before sunrise."

I stopped outside the conference room. Through the open door, I could see lawyers moving from one call to another. PR executives were gathered around laptops, drafting statements and sending emails with mechanical precision. Adrian stood at the center of it all, his phone in one hand and his sleeves rolled up past his elbows.

He looked exhausted. I knew it immediately. His tie was loose, hanging untied around his neck. His hair was slightly disordered, running his hand through it repeatedly. And there was a tension in his face I'd never seen before—the look of someone who hadn't slept, who was running on adrenaline and anger.

The entire company was fighting a photograph. A fake photograph. And somehow, I was at the center of it all.

"Adrian, there are hundreds of reposts already," his head of communications said, her voice strained. "We're challenging them as fast as we can, but more keep appearing."

"Then challenge hundreds more."

"Some of them are anonymous accounts. We can't even identify who's posting them."

"Then find someone who can."

She hesitated. Behind her, other executives exchanged worried glances. "And if we can't?"

Adrian slowly looked up from his phone. His eyes were cold. Focused. Dangerous. "Find someone who can."

Nobody spoke after that. The room fell into focused silence broken only by the sound of typing and phone calls.

I watched another lawyer hurry past with a phone pressed to his ear, speaking urgently in a low voice. Something inside me tightened. This had gone too far. This was spiraling beyond what I'd ever intended.

"Enough."

Adrian's head snapped toward the doorway. His eyes found mine immediately, as though he'd been feeling my presence even before I spoke.

"Chloe."

I stepped inside the conference room. Every head turned toward me. I could feel the weight of their attention, the calculation in their eyes. "I said enough."

He stared at me. "We're fixing this."

"No. You're fighting it."

"Because someone is trying to destroy you."

"I know."

Adrian set down his phone. "Then let me handle it."

I shook my head. My voice came out steadier than I felt. "You've already done enough."

His expression hardened. "That isn't true."

"You're putting your entire company into a war because someone made a fake picture."

"They didn't just make a fake picture." His voice dropped, and it became something more dangerous. Something more real. "They attached your name to it. They sent it to my board. They're trying to manipulate the people I work with. They're trying to weaponize your reputation against you and against me."

"And I'm going to face them."

"No."

The answer came so quickly that I almost laughed. Almost. Instead, I folded my arms across my chest and held his gaze.

"You don't get to decide that."

"Yes, I do."

"No, Adrian. You don't."

The room became painfully quiet. I noticed several executives suddenly found their laptops very interesting. They pretended to work while listening to every word.

I stepped closer to him. My voice dropped so only he could hear. "I know everything is happening because of me. I know that photograph wouldn't exist without me. I know that the board wouldn't be in crisis without me. And I'm sorry for that. I'm genuinely sorry."

He started to speak, but I held up my hand.

"But you can send lawyers after whoever created that picture. You can contact every website that posted it. You can spend the entire night trying to erase it from the internet. And you probably will." I swallowed. "But you can't erase what the board has already seen."

His jaw tightened. "Then I'll tell them the truth."

"About me?"

"About everything. About us. About how that photograph is fabricated."

I stared at him. "And if they don't believe you?"

"They will."

"And if they think I'm sleeping with you because I want money? Because I'm trying to climb the corporate ladder by using my body? Because I'm some gold-digging manipulation artist?"

Something cold entered his expression. It was the look of a man who had just realized something, or decided something. His entire demeanor shifted.

"They don't get to think anything about you."

"That is exactly the problem." My voice came out quieter than I expected, but it carried weight. "That's the entire problem. I've spent years letting other people decide what I am. Liam decided I wasn't good enough. His friends decided I was too much. My family has spent years telling me what I should tolerate, who I should be, what I should accept."

I looked back at Adrian. "And now your board is about to decide I'm a liar. Or a gold digger. Or both. And I won't have a voice in it because I'm hiding behind you."

His eyes stayed on mine. "You're not hiding behind me."

"It feels like it."

He moved closer. "Chloe, this isn't about pride or independence."

"I know."

"This is about people who have already decided to believe something ugly about you."

"Then let me look them in the eye and tell them they're wrong."

For several seconds, neither of us spoke. The entire room seemed to hold its breath. Finally, Adrian exhaled slowly, like he was releasing something he'd been holding onto.

"Fine."

I blinked. "Fine?"

"You want to face them?"

"Yes."

His hand reached out and found mine. "Then I'll be beside you."

I shook my head. "No."

His eyes sharpened. "No?"

"I want you beside me because you're my boss. Because you're fighting this with the entire weight of your company behind you." I squeezed his hand, then released it. "Not because you think you have to protect me."

Something shifted in his expression, but I couldn't read it. He looked away for a moment, his jaw working silently. Then he nodded.

"All right."

---

The board meeting was scheduled for eight. By seven-thirty, I'd already received three messages asking whether I was prepared to resign. I deleted every one without responding.

At seven forty-five, another message appeared on my phone.

*They'll destroy you in there.*

I stared at the screen. My stomach twisted. I knew there was a chance they would. I knew exactly what the board was going to see when I walked in. A woman. A powerful man's employee. A photograph that appeared real. A story designed to make me look guilty before I even opened my mouth.

"What is it?"

I looked up. Adrian was watching me from across the hallway, his expression unreadable.

"Nothing."

"Chloe."

I locked my phone and slipped it into my pocket. "Nothing I can't handle."

He didn't look convinced. Neither was I.

We walked toward the boardroom together. With every step, my nerves grew worse. My heart rate accelerated. My palms went clammy. But I didn't stop. I didn't slow down. I didn't turn back.

The doors opened. Every face turned toward me. I felt it immediately—the curiosity, the suspicion, the judgment. It hung in the air like a physical thing.

Robert Vance's usual seat at the head of the table was empty. For now.

Adrian pulled out the chair beside him. I sat.

One of the directors cleared his throat. "Before we begin, I think we need to address the obvious."

Adrian leaned back in his chair. "We will."

The director looked directly at me. His expression was neutral, but his eyes held calculation. "Ms. Bennet, are you aware of the image circulating?"

"Yes."

"And are you claiming it is fabricated?"

"Yes."

"Do you have proof?"

My stomach tightened. For one second, I looked at Adrian. He didn't interrupt. He didn't answer for me. He didn't defend me or speak on my behalf. He simply waited. That mattered more than I could express.

I turned back toward the board. My voice came out steady. "Yes."

The director raised an eyebrow. "The image has been circulating for hours. Multiple accounts. Multiple platforms."

"And that doesn't make it real."

Another director leaned forward. Her tone was sympathetic but probing. "Your relationship with Mr. Vance has become a concern for the board."

I tightened my fingers around the edge of the table. "I understand why."

"Do you?"

"Yes." I looked around the room, meeting each gaze in turn. "But I won't apologize for something I didn't do."

Silence followed. The first director glanced toward Adrian, then back to me.

"Mr. Vance, did you have a personal relationship with Ms. Bennet before this incident?"

Adrian didn't hesitate. His voice was cold. "My personal relationship with Chloe Bennet is irrelevant to whether that photograph is real."

"That wasn't the question."

His eyes hardened. "It is my answer."

I looked at him. Then I faced the board again. My voice steadied further with each word I spoke. "If you want to investigate me, investigate me. Look at my work. Look at my records. Look at the campaign Liam stole from me that I've been rebuilding ever since. Look at what I've accomplished in this company despite having to prove myself at every single step."

A few directors exchanged glances. They weren't expecting this. They were expecting tears. Or anger. Or denial.

"I didn't sleep my way into this company." I paused, letting that statement land. "I worked for everything I have. I fought for my ideas. I fought for recognition. I fought for respect. And I won't let anyone—not a fake photograph, not rumors, not anyone—take that away from me."

No one answered. For the first time since I'd walked into the room, I felt like I could breathe. I felt like I'd finally said something true. Something real.

Then

The door opened.

Every head turned.

A man walked into the boardroom. Robert Vance. My breath caught. He didn't look at me. He didn't look at the directors. His expression was cold fury.

Adrian slowly stood. "Dad?"

Robert's eyes finally landed on him. And the anger in them made my stomach drop. It wasn't the anger of a father disappointed in his son. It was something colder. Something more calculated.

He wasn't looking at me. He wasn't even looking at the board.

He was looking directly at Adrian.

"What," Robert said, his voice quiet and dangerous, "the hell have you done?"

I froze. Adrian's face hardened. And suddenly, the boardroom wasn't about the photograph anymore. It wasn't about me anymore.

It was about something else entirely. Something bigger. Something that had been waiting in the background all along.