And through it all, one question burned in her mind as she drifted in and out of consciousness: What parts of their relationship had been truly real, and which had been carefully calculated strategy?
Thursday loomed like a reckoning on the horizon. Three days to prepare herself to face him again—not as the mysterious man who had captured her heart, but as Archer Sullivan, CEO of Sullivan Enterprises.
Three days to build walls strong enough to protect the heart he’d somehow stolen.
23
Archer
Tuesday morning greeted Archer with the same emptiness that had haunted him through a sleepless night. His penthouse, normally a sanctuary of order and control, now felt like a monument to his failure. The bed remained untouched—he’d spent the night in his office chair, surrounded by financial reports and evidence of Richard Jenkins’ misdeeds, searching for answers that might help him win Morgan back.
Coffee wasn’t going to cut it. He downed an espresso, then another, the bitter liquid doing little to clear the fog of exhaustion. The face that stared back at him from the bathroom mirror looked foreign—shadows beneath his eyes, stubble darkening his jaw, a vulnerability he rarely allowed himself to show.
He’d tried calling her again. Straight to voicemail. He’d drafted and discarded a dozen text messages, each feeling more inadequate than the last. What could he possibly say in a text message that would undo the damage his deception had caused and led her to believe about him?
The drive to Sullivan Tower was mechanical, his thoughts far from the morning traffic or the day’s agenda. Tuesday meant the executive leadership meeting—normally his domain, where Archer Sullivan, CEO, commanded the room with effortless authority. Today, it felt like an exercise in futility. How could corporate strategy matter when his personal life lay in ruins?
His executive assistant Jennifer’s eyes widened slightly as he strode past her desk without his usual morning greeting. She quickly recovered, following him into his office with a tablet in hand.
“Sir, I’ve moved your 10 AM with legal to tomorrow as requested. The Tokyo team sent over their revised proposal, and Mr. Donovan is waiting for you in the conference room for your pre-meeting briefing.”
Archer nodded, not trusting his voice for a moment. Jennifer had been with him for six years. She’d seen him through corporate crises, hostile takeovers, and international negotiations. She’d never seen him like this.
“Thank you, Jennifer. Tell Marcus I’ll be there in five minutes.”
When she closed the door, Archer took a deep breath, straightening his shoulders and adjusting his tie. Time to put on the mask again—the impenetrable facade of Archer Sullivan, CEO. This time, it felt less like a strategy and more like a prison of his own making.
Marcus Donovan was reviewing documents at the conference table when Archer entered. His CFO looked up, a flicker of surprise crossing his features at Archer’s appearance.
“Rough night?” Marcus asked, his tone casual but his eyes sharp with assessment.
“Long one,” Archer replied, taking a seat at the head of the table. “Where are we with Vertex?”
Marcus slid a folder across the table. “Final acquisition paperwork is ready for Thursday. The Vertex board has accepted our terms without pushback. Richard Jenkins has been temporarily suspended pending our investigation.”
“And the evidence against him?”
“Substantial,” Marcus replied, tapping on his tablet to bring documents onto the main screen. “The forensic accounting team has traced most of the irregularities back to him. Falsified expenses, double-billing clients, the works.”
Archer studied the financial data displayed before them. “Most of the irregularities?”
Marcus hesitated, just a fraction of a second. “There are a few transactions that don’t quite fit his pattern. Could be someone working with him, or just a different approach to cover his tracks.”
“I want to see everything,” Archer said, his voice hardening. “Every transaction, every account.”
“Of course,” Marcus agreed, though something in his tone caught Archer’s attention. “Though I wonder if this level of detail is necessary for you personally. The forensic team can handle the minutiae.”
“I’ll decide what’s necessary,” Archer replied, more sharply than intended. “This acquisition is too important to delegate completely.”
Marcus raised an eyebrow. “It’s a small creative agency. Barely a blip in our portfolio. Why the intense focus?”
The question hung in the air, loaded with unspoken implications.
“I don’t like loose ends,” Archer said finally. “Especially when innocent people might be hurt in the process.”
“Ah,” Marcus said, leaning back slightly. “This is about the employee. Morgan Reeves.”
The sound of her name out of Marcus’s mouth felt like an intrusion. “She’s been wrongfully accused. I want to make sure we have the full picture before the meeting on Thursday.”
