The boardroom smelled of glass and ego.
It was the kind of morning Alexander Knight had once dominated with absolute precision — suits lined in rows, voices flattened by the air-conditioned chill of authority.
But now, as he stepped into the room, something in the atmosphere had shifted.
He could feel it, the weight of watchful eyes, the hush that wasn't quite respect.
They were waiting.
Not for him to speak.
But for him to slip.
At the far end of the table, Victoria Hayes, his ex-fiancée and current COO, sat with a smile sharp enough to draw blood.
"Alexander," she said smoothly, rising to greet him. "So good of you to join us. I was beginning to think family life had softened your punctuality."
The word family landed like a trap.
He didn't blink. "Good morning, Victoria."
She tilted her head, the diamond studs at her ears catching light, small, precise weapons of wealth. "Morning. Shall we begin?"
He took his seat. The chair felt colder than usual.
The presentation droned on. Quarterly projections. Expansion proposals. Numbers that should have thrilled him once.
But Alexander's mind wasn't on the screen.
It was on Zara's laughter that morning, the sound of spoons clinking against bowls as Selene had tried to herd both children into breakfast before school.
He remembered the way Zara had wiped chocolate from her cheek with the back of her hand, declaring, "Daddy says pancakes are for champions."
He'd smiled. The entire house had smelled like syrup and sunlight.
Now, here, under the sterilized lights of the boardroom, that memory felt like rebellion.
"Alexander," Victoria's voice cut through the hum. "Your input?"
He blinked once. "On what?"
"The acquisition proposal," she said, sweet as venom. "You approved it last month, remember? Or perhaps your schedule's been… preoccupied."
A murmur rippled through the room.
He leaned back, folding his hands. "My memory's intact. I was considering its ethical implications."
Victoria's lips curved. "Since when do you concern yourself with ethics?"
"Since I realized profit doesn't build legacy, people do."
That silenced her. Briefly.
But her gaze didn't waver. "Funny. You sound like someone else lately."
He met her eyes. "And you sound exactly the same."
When the meeting adjourned, the others left quickly, pretending not to glance back.
Victoria didn't move.
She waited until the door closed, then rose slowly, heels striking the marble with deliberate grace.
"So," she said, turning toward him, "it's true."
He raised a brow. "What rumor have you chosen today?"
"The one that says you've taken in a woman and two children."
His jaw tightened. "I don't recall that being your concern."
Her smile deepened. "It becomes my concern when the tabloids start whispering about the great Alexander Knight hiding a family in his mansion. Especially when those whispers reach investors who prefer their CEOs… unentangled."
He stood. "If they value image over competence, they can take their money elsewhere."
"Oh, Alexander." She stepped closer, her perfume sweet and poisonous. "You really have changed."
"Perhaps I've evolved."
"Into what?" Her tone sharpened. "A man who lets emotions dictate strategy?"
He didn't answer.
Her eyes flicked downward, to his hands, ungloved now, ringless, relaxed. "You've gone soft," she said quietly. "And softness doesn't survive here."
He leaned in just enough for her to see the shadow harden behind his gaze. "You mistake softness for depth."
But she only smiled, slow, cruel. "Then tell me, Alexander… who are they?"
Silence stretched thin.
She took it as confession. "Ah. So she's real."
"Leave it alone, Victoria."
"Oh, I intend to," she said. "But others won't."
That evening, he found Damian waiting outside his office. The assistant's face was pale, uncertain.
"Sir," Damian said quietly, "we may have a problem."
Alexander gestured for him to continue.
"I received word from Legal. Someone leaked details of your," he hesitated, "…domestic situation."
"Leaked?"
"A photograph, sir. The children. Miss Brooks. You."
The air went razor-sharp. "Who?"
"We're not sure yet. But the board's been contacted. So has the media."
Alexander's voice dropped low. "Contain it."
"We're trying, sir. But there's… pressure."
"What kind?"
Damian swallowed. "From within the board. Miss Hayes among them."
Of course.
"She's calling an emergency review. Citing conflict of interest. There's talk that your… involvement could compromise the company's image."
Alexander turned to the window. The skyline glared back at him, a thousand lights like watching eyes.
"She's testing me," he said softly. "They all are."
"Yes, sir. And if they can't push you out, they'll force you to choose."
He looked over his shoulder. "Choose?"
"Between the company and… them."
The next morning, Victoria made her move.
A courier arrived at his office, envelope sealed, legal watermark embossed.
Inside: an official notice from the board's ethics committee.
At the bottom, her signature.
The clause was clear. Unexplained dependents or familial affiliations may be grounds for review and temporary suspension pending investigation.
Attached to it was a single photograph, grainy but unmistakable.
Selene and the twins in the mansion garden. Zara mid-laugh. Zane chasing her with a paper airplane.
Alexander's world condensed to that one fragile image.
They'd turned love into evidence.
By dusk, he stood alone in his office, the city below flickering like a lie.
The rain started again, soft, relentless, echoing against glass.
He didn't turn when the door opened. He didn't need to.
"Alexander?" Selene's voice, careful, searching.
He faced her. She looked small against the vastness of the room, her hair damp from the weather, eyes wary.
"What happened?"
He handed her the envelope. She read it slowly. Her breath hitched at the photo.
"Oh my God…"
"They're coming for me," he said. "For us."
Her gaze snapped up. "Then fight back."
"I will. But they're not after me, Selene. They're after you."
"Me?"
"They'll frame you as a liability. The woman who trapped me. The reason I've lost focus."
She shook her head. "That's absurd."
"It's strategic. They can't touch me directly, so they'll attack what they think I value most."
Her jaw trembled. "The twins."
He nodded once.
She crossed to the window, staring at the city drowning in rain. "So what now?"
He didn't answer immediately. He moved closer, the quiet power of his presence filling the room.
"Now," he said finally, "we play their game. But by my rules."
She turned to face him. "And those rules are?"
"That they'll never touch what's mine."
Her voice rose, sharp with defiance. "You don't own me, Alexander."
His tone matched her heat. "I never said I did. But they don't get to destroy you, either."
"Then what do you call this?" she demanded, gesturing to the papers in her hand. "You think your empire can protect us? You're the reason they're looking!"
He exhaled slowly, the storm behind his control starting to crack. "If I hadn't brought you back,"
"You didn't bring me back. I came back for work, not for you."
Their eyes locked. For a moment, they were both back in that first night, the heat, the mistake, the promise unspoken.
"Then why," he said softly, dangerously, "does it still sound like you're trying to convince yourself?"
She froze. His words hung between them, heavy, intimate.
And yet, the anger stayed.
"Whatever you think this is," she whispered, "it's not love. It's control."
"Maybe once," he said. "Not anymore."
The silence between them stretched, alive with everything they couldn't say.
Then the intercom buzzed.
Damian's voice, thin and urgent: "Sir… it's Miss Hayes. She's issued a statement. Publicly."
Alexander's muscles went still. "What kind of statement?"
"She's suggesting a review of custody rights," Damian said quietly. "She's implying that if the twins are biologically yours… they belong under corporate guardianship. For image protection."
Selene's knees nearly gave out. "They can't…"
"They can try," Alexander said darkly.
"Then stop them."
"I will."
"How?"
He met her eyes, voice low, lethal calm. "Any way I have to."
He dismissed Damian, waited until the door clicked shut, then turned back to her.
Selene was pale, shaking, but proud, the same quiet defiance he'd fallen for when he shouldn't have.
He approached her slowly. "They're coming for what's ours. And if you think I'll let them…"
Her chin lifted. "You can't fight the whole board."
"Watch me."
Her eyes glimmered with something between anger and fear. "And if you lose?"
He stepped closer, too close, until his voice was barely breath against her temple.
"Then I'll burn it all before I let them take you."
The words weren't threat. They were vow.
The storm outside deepened, thunder curling over the skyline.
Selene turned away, swallowing hard. "You can't protect everything, Alexander. Not this way."
He smiled faintly, the kind of smile that promised ruin.
"Then they'll learn," he said, "that some things aren't meant to be controlled."
Her voice trembled. "What do they want?"
His answer came without hesitation.
"Custody," he said. "Or silence."
"Silence?"
"Yes." He reached out, fingertips brushing her wrist, not possessive, but grounding. "They want you gone, Selene. Clean removal. They think that if you disappear, I'll forget."
Her eyes widened. "And will you?"
He looked at her, the rainlight breaking across his face like truth.
"Not in this life," he said quietly.
Outside his office, Victoria Hayes watched through the glass, the ghost of a smile on her lips.
"Then we'll see," she murmured, "what the great Alexander Knight is willing to lose for love."