By morning, Emilia Stone was no longer hiding behind the boardroom doors.
She stood in front of a row of microphones, her silhouette a striking figure in a navy structured blazer, silk blouse, and minimal gold jewelry. The marble backdrop of Stone International's headquarters gave the illusion of permanence—power carved in stone. Fitting.
The crowd of journalists buzzed like hornets, cameras flashing, pens poised, ready to spin her downfall into headlines.
But Emilia didn't flinch.
She leaned into the podium and owned it.
"Good morning. I won't waste your time, and I won't insult your intelligence," she began, her voice smooth and firm, carrying effortlessly over the noise.
"Yes—there was a breach in protocol. Yes—we are investigating it aggressively. And yes—Stone International has been targeted by someone with insider access and malicious intent."
A murmur rippled through the audience.
She let it hang.
"I have led this company through a global expansion, doubled our investor base in five years, and built a team I trust. But trust, as we've all learned, can be misplaced."
Flashes went off.
She took a breath. "So let me be clear: I'm not stepping down. I'm not hiding. And I'm not afraid. What I am is focused."
Every eye stayed locked on her.
"Our competitors may think they've gained an advantage, but they've underestimated one thing—me."
The edge in her voice sent a collective shiver through the crowd.
"I have authorized a full forensic sweep of our systems. I've brought in independent security experts and I've already filed legal action. If you've betrayed this company, we'll find you. And when we do—you'll wish you'd stolen from someone else."
Silence fell. Thick. Charged.
She glanced at the cameras. "For our clients, our shareholders, and our partners—this is not the end. This is the beginning of a new era. One led not by fear, but by fire."
And just like that, she stepped back from the podium and walked offstage without taking a single question.
Because she didn't need to.
---
Back inside the building, her assistant was already waiting.
"Three board members just texted," Ava said, eyes wide. "They said it was... impressive. One of them said you reminded him of your father."
Emilia gave a tight smile. "Then he clearly never knew me. I'm sharper."
Ava handed her a folder. "Clara's apartment was cleared out. Passport's gone. She's probably already on a plane."
Emilia exhaled. "Then freeze her accounts. Every last one. I want her to feel me breathing down her neck in whatever country she's hiding."
As Ava turned to carry out the order, Emilia returned to her office, pulled out her phone, and this time... she did type a message.
But not to Sebastian.
Not yet.
To someone else entirely.
We need to talk. Tonight. No lawyers. Just you and me.
She hit send.
Because even the boldest move in public required a much riskier play in private.
----
Sebastian Lores leaned against the edge of his kitchen counter, a chipped ceramic mug of coffee warming his hands. The news anchor's voice echoed from the old TV mounted above his fridge, the screen flickering slightly—always a little fuzzy when it rained.
"Stone International CEO Emilia Stone addresses the media in a rare public statement following the recent data breach and internal scandal…"
He didn't need the voice-over.
He only saw her.
Standing behind a row of microphones, Emilia looked poised, untouchable. Not the woman who had curled against him just two nights ago, barefoot in his apartment, with her guard down and her lips whispering soft truths in the dark. This woman—this version—was all steel.
He watched her deliver every line with sharp precision, watched how the media bent to her presence like iron to a magnet. She was brilliant. Fierce. And so far away from the life he lived.
For a moment, he didn't feel admiration.
He felt small.
Sebastian had grown up in neighborhoods where power came in two forms—muscle or survival. He'd chosen neither, instead carving a path through grit and quiet hustle. He built things. Fixed what was broken. Laid foundations others walked over without seeing.
But Emilia… she didn't walk over foundations.
She was the tower.
And yet, she had chosen to be vulnerable with him.
That contradiction sat heavy on his chest.
He sipped the coffee. Bitter. Cold.
---
Later that morning, his phone buzzed.
A message from Rosa, one of the bartenders at the lounge he sometimes helped run.
"She was on fire. Your girl's making headlines like she owns the sky."
He didn't answer.
Because he didn't know what to say.
She wasn't his girl. Not really. Not yet.
Not in the way that mattered.
---
He spent the rest of the day in his workshop, sandpapering down the edge of a mahogany table a client had commissioned. The repetition helped. Grain by grain. Like peeling back thoughts too loud to hear.
He didn't belong in her world. But he couldn't walk away, either.
When the sun dipped low and the light shifted across the room, he finally paused. Wiped his hands. Picked up his phone.
Still no message from Emilia.
He didn't expect one. Not after that storm of a press conference.
Still, his fingers hovered over the screen. Then tapped out a message he didn't send:
"You don't have to carry it alone."
He deleted it.
Because maybe she did.
---
Sebastian didn't know what Emilia would face next.
But he knew one thing for sure—he couldn't stay in the background forever.
Not when the world she ruled was threatening to devour her.