Boardroom and Heartbeats

Turning the Tables

The next morning, Donovan was waiting for Lena in his office, the tension in the air palpable. His suit was immaculate, as always, but there was a sharpness to his movements that suggested he hadn’t slept much. A faint shadow darkened his jawline, and his piercing gaze was locked on the folder she’d handed him the night before.

“Come in,” he said when she knocked, not bothering to look up.

Lena stepped inside, clutching her tablet. “What’s the plan?”

Donovan closed the folder and set it aside. “We don’t just stop Michael Grant. We make him regret ever coming near Steele Innovations.”

Lena raised an eyebrow. “And how exactly do you plan to do that?”

He leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers. “Michael’s been using people like Laura to chip away at my company, but he’s left a trail. Blackmail isn’t clean work. We expose his methods, cut off his leverage, and make him the one scrambling to protect himself.”

“Expose him how?” Lena asked, leaning forward.

“That’s where you come in,” Donovan said, his gaze sharp. “You’re going to gather everything we need to dismantle his operation.

Every email, every transaction, every threat he’s ever made. Once we have enough evidence, we’ll leak it to the right people—and let his reputation implode.”

Lena hesitated. “And Laura?”

“She’ll be safe,” Donovan said. “I’ll make sure of it.”

His voice was calm, but there was an edge to it—a promise that Michael wouldn’t walk away unscathed.

A Dangerous Game

The day passed in a blur as Lena threw herself into the task. With Donovan’s approval, she began combing through Steele Innovations’ internal systems, looking for any traces of Michael’s interference. It was slow, meticulous work, but she knew the stakes were too high to cut corners.

She worked late into the evening, her desk littered with papers and notes. Every time she hit a dead end, she thought of Laura’s terrified confession—and of Donovan’s unwavering determination to protect his company.

“Still here?”

Lena jumped, nearly spilling her coffee. She looked up to see Donovan standing in the doorway, his hands in his pockets.

“I could ask you the same thing,” she said, setting her mug down.

He stepped inside, his gaze sweeping over her desk. “Anything yet?”

“A few leads,” Lena said, gesturing to her notes. “Michael’s good at covering his tracks, but not perfect. I’ve found a couple of connections between him and some of the dummy accounts Laura mentioned. It’s not enough to nail him yet, but it’s a start.”

Donovan nodded, his expression thoughtful. “You’re good at this.”

Lena felt a flicker of warmth at the compliment, but she quickly pushed it aside. “Years of investigative journalism. Comes in handy.”

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The only sound was the hum of the office’s ventilation system, the silence between them charged.

“Why are you doing this, Lena?” Donovan asked suddenly, his voice quiet.

She blinked, caught off guard. “What do you mean?”

“This,” he said, gesturing to the chaos on her desk. “You could’ve handed this off to someone else. Walked away. But you didn’t.”

Lena hesitated, her gaze dropping to her hands. “Because I know what it’s like to be powerless. To feel like you have no way out. Laura didn’t deserve to be used like that.”

Donovan’s gaze softened, something unspoken passing between them. “No, she didn’t.”

Lena looked up, her heart pounding. For a moment, she thought he might say something else—something that would cross the line they’d been dancing around since the day they met.

But then he straightened, the moment passing as quickly as it had come. “Keep at it. Let me know when you have something solid.”

“Will do,” Lena said, her voice steadier than she felt.

Nolan’s Return

The following evening, Lena was at her apartment, sorting through another batch of files, when her phone buzzed. She glanced at the screen and frowned. It was Nolan.

She debated ignoring it, but something in her gut told her not to. Sighing, she picked up.

“Nolan,” she said, leaning back in her chair. “What’s up?”

“I’ve been looking into something,” he said, his tone serious. “And I think you need to see it.”

Lena’s heart skipped a beat. “What are you talking about?”

“Not over the phone,” Nolan said. “Can we meet?”

Lena hesitated. Part of her wanted to say no—she didn’t have time for distractions, not when she was so close to cracking Michael’s operation. But Nolan sounded... worried.

“Fine,” she said. “Where?”

The Warning

They met at a small café on the edge of the city, far from Steele Innovations and the world of polished corporate deals. Nolan was already seated when Lena arrived, his laptop open in front of him.

“What’s this about?” Lena asked, sliding into the seat across from him.

Nolan glanced around, as if checking for eavesdroppers, before turning the laptop toward her. “This.”

Lena leaned closer, her eyes scanning the screen. It was an email thread, but not one she recognized. The messages were between two anonymous accounts, discussing Steele Innovations—and Donovan.

“Where did you get this?” she asked, her voice low.

“Let’s just say I have my ways,” Nolan said.

Lena frowned, scrolling through the emails. The messages were vague, but the intent was clear. Whoever was behind them wasn’t just targeting Steele Innovations—they were targeting Donovan personally.

“This goes deeper than I thought,” Nolan said. “Michael isn’t just after the company. He’s after Donovan.”

Lena’s chest tightened. “Why?”

“Revenge, probably,” Nolan said. “Or leverage. Either way, Donovan’s in more danger than he realizes.”

Lena sat back, her mind racing. If Nolan was right, Michael wasn’t just a rival—he was a threat. And Donovan had no idea how far Michael was willing to go.

“You need to tell him,” Nolan said.

Lena looked at him, her resolve hardening. “I will.”

Back at Steele Innovations

The next morning, Lena marched into Donovan’s office, her laptop tucked under her arm. He looked up as she entered, his expression sharp but curious.

“You found something?” he asked.

“You could say that,” Lena said, placing the laptop on his desk and opening the email thread.

Donovan’s eyes narrowed as he read, his jaw tightening with every line.

“Where did you get this?” he asked, his voice low.

“A source,” Lena said vaguely.

He looked up at her, his gaze piercing. “Do you trust them?”

“Yes,” she said without hesitation.

Donovan leaned back in his chair, his expression thoughtful. “Then it’s worse than I thought.”

“What do we do?” Lena asked.

Donovan’s lips curved into a dangerous smile. “We make him regret ever coming after me.”