One of the juniors speaks up, hesitant. “Sir, if you change your mind, or if she decides not to come?—”
“She’ll be there,” I say, and my voice turns colder without my permission. “And she will be included. I want her name in the materials. I want her on the seating chart. I want her in the donor packet as a featured guest.”
Mara holds my gaze. “The press materials, too?”
“Yes.”
“That’s going to be a fight,” she says softly.
“Then win it,” I reply. “Or I’ll replace the person running my events with someone who can.” The room goes silent again, and this time it isn’t just caution. It’s understanding. They see the line I’m drawing in concrete. April isn’t a secret. Not anymore.
Mara nods, measured. “Understood. We’ll prepare a draft announcement for your approval and coordinate with legal.”
“Good,” I say. “And one more thing.”
She waits.
“The language,” I tell her. “No euphemisms. No vague ‘companion’ phrasing. Use her name. Use it clearly. If anyone asks, you say she’s part of my life and she’s attending with me.”
Mara’s eyes widen a fraction. Then she inclines her head. “Yes, Mr. Voss.”
When they leave, I sit back and stare at the skyline through my glass wall, pulse steady, mind already mapping outcomes. This will work. A public introduction. A controlled environment. Cameras, donors, applause. April in my world, not as an employee on the edge of my shadow, but as someone I claim with pride.
She’ll see what I’m offering. She’ll feel what it means. And she’ll forgive me.
That’s what I tell myself.
I’m still telling myself that when Karen walks into my office,again, like she has every right to.
“Get out,” I deadpan.
She doesn’t bother with pleasantries. She closes the door behind her with deliberate care, like she’s sealing a room for surgery. “Anthony,” she says, voice smooth. “We need to talk.”
“If I have to stare at your face for five more seconds, I will personally see to it that you join your sister in the fucking ground.”
Her smile flashes. “Someone’s in a bad mood.”
“Don’t.”
She walks to the chair across from my desk and doesn’t sit. She leans a hand on the backrest instead, casual, intimate, like she belongs in here.
“What,” I say flatly, “do you want?”
Karen’s eyes glitter. “I want you to stop pretending you can tidy this mess with an event and a photo op.”
My jaw tightens. “You’ve been spying.”
She laughs softly. “It’s a public company, Anthony. Nothing is private when you start panicking.”
“I’m not panicking,” I say.
Karen tilts her head. “You announced an engagement that doesn’t exist,” she says, voice honey-sweet. “And now you’re trying to parade her through a gala like a trophy. That’s not strategy. That’s desperation.”
Heat flashes in my chest. I keep my face still. “Get to your fucking point.”
Her gaze hardens, and the softness drains out. “My point is simple,” she says. “You’re going to lose, and when you do, you’re taking her down with you.”
I stare at her. “Explain.”
