At the future Damien had just handed them.
“Ms.Sinclair,” he said, smiling wide. “The floor is yours.”
The crowd turned toward me like a single organism. For a split second, panic clawed up through me. Too bright. Too loud. Too many eyes.
Then a brush.
Another graze of Damien’s knuckles along the back of my hand, hidden beneath the lip of the podium where no camera would ever catch it.
My lungs loosened. My pulse steadied. I inhaled once and lifted my chin. “Thank you for your kind words, Mr.Holt,” I began.
The room stilled, leaning in.
“Elion has faced an incredibly challenging couple of weeks,” I continued. “And throughout this process, Falkirk Group has offered not only partnership but steadfast support. Their diligence, transparency, and commitment were instrumental in uncovering the truth behind the breach and clearing the misinformation surrounding our operations. We are honored to continue our professional relationship with Falkirk Group and look forward to this new chapter.”
Flashes erupted. Hands shot into the air. Voices overlapped in a swelling roar.
I blinked into the storm of cameras, my heart spiking—and glanced sideways at Damien.Just for a second. A small, private second.
His eyes found mine through the chaos. Steady. Certain.
Our story had begun with a single phone call and a challenge. I’d stepped into it alone—tired, guarded, terrified of the next blow. But now?
Now I wasn’t afraid of what came next.
Because I wasn’t walking into it alone anymore. With him beside me, the future no longer felt like a threat.
It felt like a promise.
Chapter 55
***
Emma
“Drinks are on me!” I yelled the second we walked into O’Tally’s—Damien’s recommendation, and the only place within a block that wouldn’t judge us for being loud.
Jennifer whooped behind me.
David pumped a fist in the air.
Kevin startled. His wife cackled. One of the twins dropped a pacifier.
We claimed the big booth near the back, the one with worn green leather and initials carved into the wood from two decades of regulars. Everyone squeezed in—Kevin’s wife bouncing a twin on her lap, David loosening his tie like he hadn’t taken a full breath in weeks, Jennifer practically vibrating with relief.
Menus were ignored immediately.
A round of beers and ciders hit the table with soft thuds. A plate of pretzel bites followed. Someone ordered nachos. Someone else ordered a second round.
Then, as if choreographed, the noise dimmed.
David lifted his glass first. “To Emma,” he said, voice thick. “The best damn leader any of us could hope for.”
I blinked, startled. The table murmured in agreement. Heat climbed through me.
Jennifer went next, raising her cider. “To the woman who never once let us down.”
My vision blurred.
