Ryan looks between us, grinning. “That might be the most Seb thing I’ve ever heard.”
Seb shrugs. “No regrets.”
I’m still holding my pen mid-flight when a hush rolls over the space like an icy breeze. All at once, hundreds of heads snap toward the door.
Chase strides in like he owns the place—which, technically, he does.
His eyes find me instantly.
A brief flick of his gaze, cold and unreadable but with an intensity that makes my stomach tighten. Like he barely spares me a second—but in that second, he sees everything.
My fingers tighten around my pen, suddenly very aware that I’m still holding it aloft like an idiot. Slowly, I lower it, clearing my throat as I remind myself I’m in the middle of a business summit.
As usual, he looks sensational, like he took a wrong turn on his way to an Armani shoot and ended up here among us mere mortals. The silk tie, the crisp white shirt, the tailored black suit—all of it sculpted to his body as if stitched in place. He exudes power effortlessly, making everyone else in the room seem just a little smaller. Bethany, his PA, follows behind him. She’s the picture of competence in a pinstriped pantsuit and black stilettos, not a single hair out of place—impressive, considering she wrangled four kids through breakfast and onto the school bus before showing up to manage this whole production.
Chase heads straight to the senior executive team, shaking their hands, holding court with polished ease. I can’t help but notice how different we are. He fits into this world so naturally, while I always feel like I’m slipping in through a side door, trying to look like I belong. The other night, when he gave me a ride home, he seemed different—softer, a little more human. But that side of him doesn’t exist here. Not in this room.
Bethany queues up his presentation, stepping aside as Chase approaches the podium. Immediately, the room falls silent. He takes a moment before speaking, scanning the audience like he’s assessing something only he can see. Then, he leans into the mic, his voice smooth and assured, filling the space with ease.
“Good morning.” A deliberate pause. Just long enough to hold everyone in suspense. “Let’s get started.”
He doesn’t need grand gestures to hold the room. The weight of his presence does that on its own.
“This year marks our first major milestone. Ten years ago, this company was just an idea. A risk. Some would have called it impossible.” His gaze moves through the crowd, landing on faces as if daring them to disagree. “And yet, here we are. Not just standing—but thriving.”
His tone carries conviction, the kind that makes people listen and want to believe.
“We’ve outpaced the competition. And that’s not luck—that’s you. Your talent, your drive, your willingness to push forward even when the odds are stacked against us. That’s why we succeed.”
The energy in the room transforms, a ripple of silent engagement moving through the crowd, every single person drawn in, eager to be part of whatever vision he’s laying out.
He moves through the usual acknowledgments, recognizing key milestones, thanking the department heads for their leadership, and giving a nod to the long hours and commitmentthat got them here. He calls out a few standout projects, citing them as examples of the company’s innovation, before shifting toward what’s next.
As he speaks, Ryan leans in a little too close for comfort and whispers, “Guess this year he’s going for inspirational instead of vague threats.”
I turn my head toward him, smiling, but he’s so close that a strand of my hair gets caught in his shirt button. Flustered, I fiddle with it, while Ryan snickers, unwinding it quickly and jerking away, only to be met with something far worse.
Chase’s stare.
Hard. Unyielding.
The sort of look that turns a room ice-cold.
His head tilts, a flicker of something savage crossing his face. “Of course,” he says, voice deceptively light. “Not everyone is invested in what we’re building here.”
The tension in the room shifts, an almost imperceptible change in the air as people straighten, glancing around to see who’s about to be torn apart.
My stomach drops.
“If you’d rather be somewhere else, Violet, feel free to leave,” he continues in a tone that could freeze fire. “I wouldn’t want to take up your valuable time.”
A few whispers stir through the crowd as everyone cranes their necks to get a good look at me. My face burns, a mix of anger and humiliation crawling up my spine.
I straighten, keeping my expression neutral despite the way Seb stiffens beside me. “I’m fine,” I say, my voice steady even as something unsettled knots beneath my ribs.
Chase holds my gaze a moment longer—long enough to send my pulse into overdrive—before looking away like I’m nothing. Like he hadn’t just gutted me in front of the entire company.
The rest of the meeting is a blur.
