Troy was in the middle of reviewing quarterly reports when the notification flashed across his screen:
Cinz Under Fire: Abuse Scandal Rocks Vernz Empire.
A slow, predatory smirk spread across his face.
He leaned back in his leather chair, fingers steepled, and watched the news clip play—Kamila pushing through as reporters hurled questions at her, the damning headlines scrolling beneath.
He'd known it was only a matter of time before the cracks in her pristine empire showed.
Cinz had been a thorn in his side, but now? Now it was vulnerable. And Troy had never been one to let an opportunity slip through his fingers.
With a few calculated calls—a favour pulled from a contact at The Financial Times, a discreet inquiry to an old law school buddy—he had what he needed: the name and address of the victim.
Melinda Grant.
A single mother, former mid-level analyst at Cinz, now the unwitting linchpin in his plan.
The apartment complex was a far cry from the glass-and-steel towers of downtown. Faded paint, a flickering hallway light, the distant sound of a child laughing.
Troy adjusted his cuff links, rehearsing his approach.
He wasn't here as Troy Evans, rival CEO. He was here as a concerned advocate. A man who understood injustice.
He knocked.
A pause.
Then the door cracked open, a chain still latched.
Melinda's wary eyes scanned him—expensive suit, polished shoes, the kind of man who didn't belong in a place like this.
"Yes?"
Troy softened his voice, letting just the right amount of indignation bleed through.
"Ms. Grant? I'm—well, I'm someone who wants to help. What happened to you… it's unacceptable."
Her grip on the door tightened. "You're with the press?"
"No." He shook his head, injecting warmth into his smile. "I'm with you. Cinz thinks they can bury this. I'm here to make sure they don't."
A beat. Then the chain slid free.
Her apartment was small but tidy, toys neatly stacked in a bin, a framed photo of a gap-toothed girl on the fridge.
Troy sat on the edge of her couch, careful not to loom. Sympathy. Connection. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees.
"They silenced you," he said, voice low. "But you don't have to let them."
Melinda folded her arms. "I already told someone the truth."
Someone? Troy's pulse spiked.
Kamila.
He masked his surprise with a sympathetic nod.
"And what did they promise? A quiet settlement? A hush-hush investigation that'll disappear in a month?" He let the scepticism drip into his words. "Cinz has lawyers, PR teams—they'll erase this unless you fight back."
Melinda's jaw set. "She came here herself. No lawyers. No threats."
Damn it.
Troy reined in his frustration. Kamila had beaten him here. Played the hero.
He switched tactics. "Then you know how powerful they are. But going public? Pressing charges? That's how you break that power."
He pulled out his phone, pulling up a draft email to a high-profile journalist. "One statement. That's all it takes."
Melinda stood abruptly. "No."
Troy blinked. "Ms. Grant—"
"She listened to me." Melinda's voice wavered, but her eyes were steel. "You didn't even ask what happened. You just want a weapon."
The dismissal stung. Troy rose, smoothing his tie. "You're making a mistake."
"I think you should leave."
The door slammed behind him. Troy clenched his fists in the dim hallway, replaying the missteps. Kamila had outmanoeuvred him. Worse, Melinda had seen right through him.
His phone buzzed—Gabriel. Drinks. Now.
Gabriel's penthouse was all sharp angles and arrogance, the city lights sprawling below them. He handed Troy a glass of bourbon, grinning.
"To Cinz's downfall."
Troy forced a smile, clinking glasses. "To downfall."
Gabriel lounged back, smug. "Kamila's scrambling. The board's nervous. A few more pushes, and we'll own what's left."
Troy swirled his drink, ice clinking. "And then?"
"Then?" Gabriel laughed. "We carve it up. Dismantle her legacy piece by piece."
Troy studied him—the careless cruelty, the shortsighted greed. Gabriel didn't see the bigger game.
Good.
He took a slow sip. "Let's not just take Cinz." He met Gabriel's gaze. "Let's take everything."
Gabriel's grin widened. "Now you're talking."
What he didn't notice? The cold calculation in Troy's eyes.