The corner of her mouth curved upward, and something cracked open in my chest with a warmth I’d stopped trying to categorize.
“The press is going to be brutal today,” she said. “Your board is probably in open revolt. Victor will retaliate once he realizes how exposed he is.”
“I know.”
“What’s your plan?”
“Face it.” I pulled her slightly closer, close enough that I could feel the warmth radiating off her. “All of it. The board, the press, whatever Victor throws at us.” A breath. “Together, if you’ll let me.”
Her hands found my chest — not pushing away, not pulling closer. Holding the moment in suspension.
“I’m still a journalist, Sebastian. My job is to pursue the truth even when it’s inconvenient.”
“I’m not asking you to stop. I’m asking you to let me stand beside you while you do it.”
“Even if the truth turns against you?”
“Even then.”
She studied me for a long moment. Whatever she saw must have satisfied her, because she finally let out a breath and the last of the tension left her body.
“You mean that.”
“I mean everything I say to you.”
Her fingers curled into my shirt. “This is insane. Three weeks ago you were my investigation target and I was threatening to expose your company.”
“And now?”
“Now I don’t know what we are.” But she was smiling as she said it — the real smile, the one that reached her eyes. “Partners, I suppose. Whatever this is.”
“I can work with that.”
She laughed — bright and unexpected, the laugh that meant something had genuinely surprised her. “You’re insufferable.”
“So I’ve been told.”
The press conference started at noon.
I’d spent the morning preparing for it the way I prepared for everything that mattered — methodically, without leaving room for doubt to find purchase. The statement was written. Legal had reviewed it. Daniel had positioned himself at the back of the room to field whatever came after.
What I hadn’t prepared for was how it would feel to stand at that podium.
The room was packed — cameras, reporters, the particular electric anticipation of people who had come expecting either a cover-up or a collapse and weren’t sure which they’d get. I stepped to the microphones and the sound settled into silence the way silence always did when I entered a room.
For a moment, I thought about Emilia in my office. The careful way she’d said complicated man who made difficult choices. The way she’d looked at me like the complications didn’t disqualify the man.
I drew a slow breath and began.
“Good afternoon. I’ll be brief, and then I’ll take your questions.”
I laid it out cleanly, without softening the edges. The board’s vote for an independent investigation. Hartley’s immediatetermination. Full cooperation with federal authorities. The forensic audit. The fifty-million-dollar remediation fund. My own compensation suspended pending results.
The room exploded into questions.
“Mr. Laurent, are you admitting that you knew about the corruption within your company?”
“I’m admitting that the culture I built prioritized results over accountability. Whether I knew the specific details of Mr. Hartley’s activities is for the investigation to determine. What I know now is that I created an environment where such activities could flourish. That responsibility is mine.”
