Kevin leaned forward. “Handled how?”
Damien opened his folder, sliding a packet toward the center of the table.
“Before we get into that,” he said, voice smooth as polished steel, “I wanted to discuss the breach itself.”
He lifted his head, gaze sweeping the table with cold precision. Stillness moved through the room—everyone felt the shift.
Damien steepled his fingers. “Gregory Davidson,” he said, “was the source.”
Jennifer’s jaw dropped.
David blinked hard.
Kevin swore under his breath.
And my heart slammed once before steadying.
Damien kept going, voice even, sure, leaving no room for doubt. “He accessed Ms.Sinclair’s files, altered financial projections, and released them without authorization. His actions were an intentional attempt to create internal instability.”
The room gasped.
Jennifer’s stare snapped to me—expression wide, brows pinched, confusion and shock etched so clearly it might as well have been spoken aloud. She’d seen the numbers. She’d sat beside me when we pressed send. She and I were the only ones in the room who knew the truth didn’t look like this.
Damien continued, already turning the page. “We have documentation of his access logs, the time stamps, the packet trail, and his financial motive. Falkirk will publicly release the findings at this afternoon’s joint press conference.”
A silence settled so thick it felt like pressure on the skin.
Jennifer reached blindly for a chair and sat.
David pressed a hand against his forehead.
Kevin whispered, “Holy shit.”
And Damien—calm, composed, devastatingly collected—looked at my team and said, “Elion was not at fault. Emma Sinclair was not at fault. And we’re ready to move forward. In fact,” he said, reaching into his briefcase and producing five neatly clipped stacks of papers, “it’s Falkirk’s hope that we can announce the finalization of the merger during today’s press conference as well.”
David lunged forward before anyone else could move, practically snatching a copy from Damien’s hands.
Damien only smiled—cool, knowing, pleased.
“I need to look this over,” David said, already disappearing into the first pages, brow furrowing as the weight of the numbers hit him.
“Of course,” Damien replied smoothly. He rose from his seat, jacket shifting perfectly into place, presence filling the room even as he stepped back from the table. “I’ll step out momentarily while you review the particulars.”
He moved toward the door, hand brushing the handle before he paused—turning just enough to look back at me over his shoulder. “Ms.Sinclair, you’ve been a worthy opponent.”
And with that, he was gone.
All eyes shifted to me.
David’s face drained. “Opponent?”
A beat of stunned silence.
Then four sets of hands shot toward the stacks of paper at once.
I flipped through my copy, scanning clause after clause, my focus sharpening with every line. Everything I’d ever hoped for was in here—and then some.
Kevin’s hands actually started shaking.
