Boardroom and Heartbeats

A Breakthrough

Lena’s mind was spinning as she returned to her desk. The events of the past few days felt like an escalating storm, with no signs of letting up. Donovan’s confidence in weathering Michael’s attacks was impressive, but the cracks in the façade were starting to show.

For all his power and control, she could see the strain in his eyes.

And, if she was honest with herself, she felt it too.

As she sat down, her phone buzzed with a message from Nolan.

Nolan: “Any updates? Found anything on your end?”

Lena frowned, her fingers hesitating over the screen. She hadn’t told Nolan about the recent developments—about Laura’s confession, the mounting evidence against Michael, or the growing complications with Donovan. Part of her didn’t want to drag him further into this mess.

Instead, she typed: “Still digging. Nothing solid yet.”

The response felt like a half-truth, but she justified it to herself. Nolan didn’t need to know everything—at least, not yet.

A Shared Late Night

By the time the office emptied out, Lena was still at her desk, combing through files and emails. The glow of her computer screen was the only light in the room, and the silence was almost comforting.

She didn’t realize Donovan was still there until he appeared in her peripheral vision, a glass of whiskey in his hand.

“You’re still here,” he said, leaning against the edge of her desk.

Lena glanced up, startled. “So are you.”

He smirked faintly, taking a sip of his drink. “Habit. I find it hard to leave things unfinished.”

“Same,” Lena admitted, gesturing to the piles of papers on her desk. “There’s too much at stake to clock out early.”

Donovan’s gaze lingered on her for a moment before he set his glass down and pulled up a chair. “What have you found?”

Lena pushed her laptop toward him, pointing to a highlighted thread of emails. “I’ve been tracing Michael’s connections, looking for anyone in his circle who might have helped him plant that article. There’s one name that keeps coming up: Sarah Bennett.”

Donovan frowned. “Laura’s sister?”

“Yeah,” Lena said. “She’s a freelance journalist. It wouldn’t be hard for her to get access to the story—especially if Michael dangled the right incentives.”

Donovan’s expression darkened, his fingers drumming on the table. “If Sarah’s involved, it complicates things. We’ll need to confirm it without tipping anyone off.”

Lena hesitated, then asked the question that had been gnawing at her. “Why does Michael hate you so much?”

Donovan’s gaze shifted to hers, and for a moment, he looked almost... tired. “It’s not hate. It’s envy. He can’t stand that I succeeded where he failed.”

“And Laura? Sarah?”

“They’re pawns,” Donovan said, his voice hard. “Michael uses people to get what he wants, then discards them when they’re no longer useful. It’s why he’s dangerous.”

Lena’s chest tightened. “And what happens to them when this is over?”

Donovan’s lips pressed into a thin line. “That depends on them.”

The Crack in Donovan’s Armor

As the conversation shifted back to work, Lena noticed something she hadn’t before: Donovan’s defenses weren’t as impenetrable as they seemed. Beneath the sharp wit and commanding presence was a man who carried the weight of his empire like a burden he couldn’t set down.

“Why do you do it?” she asked suddenly.

Donovan looked up, surprised. “Do what?”

“All of this,” Lena said, gesturing to the office around them. “The company, the fight with Michael—why does it matter so much to you?”

He was quiet for a moment, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. “Because I built this from nothing. Steele Innovations isn’t just a company—it’s proof that I can survive. That I can succeed, no matter who tries to tear me down.”

Lena’s heart ached at the raw honesty in his words. She leaned forward, her voice soft. “You don’t have to do it alone, you know.”

Donovan’s gaze met hers, and for a moment, the air between them felt charged. “Maybe not,” he said quietly.

The silence stretched, the tension thick and undeniable. Donovan leaned slightly closer, his blue eyes searching hers.

“Lena,” he murmured, his voice low.

Her breath hitched, her pulse racing. She didn’t know if she wanted him to stop or to close the distance entirely.

But before either of them could move, her phone buzzed loudly, shattering the moment.

A Threat Uncovered

Lena grabbed her phone, her hands trembling slightly. It was a notification from Nolan—a forwarded email with the subject line: “Urgent: Steele Innovations Leak.”

“What is it?” Donovan asked, his voice sharp.

Lena opened the email, her eyes scanning the text. Her stomach dropped.

“It’s from one of Michael’s contacts,” she said. “He’s planning to release more fake stories tomorrow—this time with fabricated evidence to back them up.”

Donovan’s jaw tightened. “He’s escalating.”

Lena nodded, her mind racing. “If this gets out, it’ll do real damage. Even if it’s proven false later, the initial fallout could cost you everything.”

Donovan’s expression darkened, the muscles in his jaw working. “Then we don’t let it get out.”

“What do we do?” Lena asked.

Donovan stood, his commanding presence filling the room. “We take the fight to him.”

Preparing for the Confrontation

The next morning, Donovan called an emergency meeting with his legal and PR teams, outlining a counterattack. The goal was clear: expose Michael’s schemes before he could strike again.

Lena sat at the edge of the conference table, her heart pounding as she listened. She’d never seen Donovan like this—focused, unrelenting, and utterly commanding.

As the meeting ended, Donovan turned to her. “I need you to coordinate with IT. Find the source of Michael’s leaks. If we can cut off his access, we’ll cripple his operation.”

“I’m on it,” Lena said, determination hardening her resolve.

A Glimmer of Hope

That evening, Lena worked late again, combing through digital logs and access points. With the help of Steele Innovations’ IT team, she finally traced the leaks back to a secure server owned by one of Michael’s subsidiaries.

It wasn’t definitive proof, but it was enough to start dismantling his operation.

She forwarded the information to Donovan, along with a note: “We’ve got him.”

Minutes later, her phone buzzed.

Donovan: “Good work. Be ready tomorrow. Things are about to get messy.”

Lena smiled to herself, her exhaustion briefly forgotten. For the first time in days, she felt like they were turning the tide.