CHAPTER TEN - BURN

The image wasn't super clear, but you could still tell what it was.

Aiden. Julian. The elevator.

His mouth on Julian’s.

Frozen. Still.

Whoever took it knew exactly what they were doing.

He stared at the photo until the screen blurred.

No sender. No name. No message beyond the anonymous email and one line beneath the photo:

> “This goes to the board unless someone resigns.”

No demand for money. No follow-up.

Just a threat.

Aiden’s first instinct was rage.

The second? Fear.

And the third?

He had to warn Julian.

But… Julian wasn’t in his office.

Not on the floor.

Not on the 41st, either.

He wasn’t answering calls or messages.

Clarissa told him bluntly that Mr. Vince was in a closed-door meeting with “family stakeholders.”

Which meant Harold.

Which meant bad.

Very bad.

Aiden paced the empty strategy room until his heart started to hurt. Then he opened his laptop, pulled up the image again—and made a decision.

He was going to end this.

Before they did it for him.

—

At 4:15 p.m., he walked back to HR, calm and collected, like nothing was wrong.

The HR director blinked up at him.

“I’m submitting my resignation,” Aiden said. “Effective immediately.”

She stared at him. “That’s… sudden.”

“It’s clean. You want clean, right?”

She hesitated. “Mr. Shaw—this wasn’t a demand. You were given a choice.”

“I’m choosing.”

He handed over the envelope. Already signed.

She opened it, scanned it quickly.

Aiden exhaled. “You won’t have to clean anything up. There’s nothing to spin.”

She looked at him for a long moment. “You really care about him, don’t you?”

He didn’t answer.

Because that would’ve made it worse.

—

He didn’t go back to his desk.

Didn’t collect his things.

He just left.

Walked down the same hallway he’d crossed a hundred times before—this time slower, heavier.

Elevator doors closed. He pressed the ground floor.

As the numbers dropped, something in his chest did too.

Not grief. Not yet.

Just absence.

Of something that had started to feel like… home.

—

But Julian wasn’t going to let him disappear that easily.

Not this time.

Aiden had barely reached the front steps when Julian came bursting through the revolving door like a man who had just woken up too late.

“Aiden!”

“Wait.”

Aiden froze.

Julian stopped two steps away, breathing heavily.

“I just spoke to my grandfather. He knows. About the photo.”

Aiden’s expression turned cold. “He sent someone to follow us?”

“No,” Julian said. “But someone in the building did. And they’re trying to leverage it.”

“I figured that out,” Aiden said, dry.

Julian stepped closer. “You didn’t deserve this.”

“No, I didn’t.” Aiden’s voice cracked. “But you let me take the hit anyway.”

“I didn’t know. If I had…”

“What?” Aiden snapped. “Would you have protected me? Or just gotten ahead of the PR disaster?”

Julian flinched. “You know it’s more than that.”

Aiden looked away.

Julian reached into his jacket, pulled out a paper; the resignation letter. The copy from HR.

“I took this back,” he said. “They hadn’t filed it yet.”

Aiden blinked. “You—what?”

Julian’s voice lowered. “I’m not letting you fall on the sword alone.”

“Then what?”

Julian’s eyes locked onto his.

“I’m walking into that boardroom tonight,” he said, “and I’m telling them the truth.”

“You can’t…”

“I can,” Julian cut in. “I’ve hidden behind the VanDermere name long enough. I want this company to see who I really am.”

“And if they cut you off?” Aiden’s voice was sharp. “If they remove you as heir?”

Julian gave a crooked, sad smile. “Then maybe I wasn’t meant to inherit it in the first place.”

Silence.

Rain started falling…

Light at first…

Then heavier.

Aiden stood there, soaked and stunned, watching this man—this heir, this enemy, this impossible contradiction, risk everything.

For him.

Finally,

“You’re crazy,” Aiden said softly.

Julian stepped close, water dripping from his jaw. “Only when it comes to you.”

They stood chest to chest now.

Julian raised one hand and cupped the side of Aiden’s face.

This time, there was no one watching.

No cameras. No glass.

Just them.

And when they kissed, it wasn’t quiet.

It wasn’t a whisper.

It was heat and thunder and yes.

It was a promise.

And a warning.

Because whatever storm was coming next—

They were going into it together.