Chapter 40 Blind Spots
Of course I still had my doubts, which has clearly been overridden lately by my feelings for him. I didn't reply to Layla’s text, I just ignored it.
Back at home, I dropped my purse on the console table without looking, I was already turning toward Jack, my body acting before my thoughts could catch up. He was shrugging out of his blazer, loosening his tie with that familiar, crooked smirk—the one that told me that our brief time in the elevator hadn’t been a passing moment for him.
The second we were alone, he reached for me, and I went to him like gravity had finally remembered me.
It's so silly how our mouths met hard with no hesitation, just the relief of contact after half a day spent pretending we weren’t constantly orbiting each other.
His lips were warm but insistent. I felt it everywhere: In my chest, in the way my breath broke when his fingers slid down my waist and pulled me closer. But I hated the feeling that settled at the pit of my stomach alongside Layla’s text earlier—that I'm starting to be a sucker for Jack.
My hands fisted in the back of his shirt, wrinkling fabric I didn’t care about. My hunger felt like fire sparked by everything we’d swallowed all day in boardrooms and hallways and glass-walled meetings.
Then we barely made it to the couch, I laughed soft and breathless, surprised by how undone I already was—before he was over me, the cushions dipping beneath our weight. His mouth traced my jaw, my neck, and I tilted my head back like an idiot without thinking, giving him access and giving him everything.
And then—the television.
A sharp, bright jingle cut through the room like a blade and we froze.
I was still beneath him, his weight braced on his forearms, my fingers tangled in his hair, when the news anchor’s voice filled the space we’d been occupying so completely just seconds before.
“This just in—an unexpected announcement has sent shockwaves through the business world. Mark Kessler, a name previously unknown to the public, has come forward claiming to be the biological son of media and business tycoon Conrad Vale.”
My body went rigid like someone had poured ice straight into my veins.
“What…?” The word barely made it past my lips.
I pushed myself up on my elbows as my heart slammed so hard I could feel it in my throat. Jack shifted immediately, reaching for the remote, his movements was sharp. He turned the volume up, and the room seemed to shrink around the sound.
The screen cut to a press conference.
Mark stood at a podium outside a grand downtown building, cameras packed so tightly they looked like a single organism. He was flanked by lawyers, publicists, people who knew how to stand just close enough to look important without blocking the shot. His suit was immaculate and his expression was calm and confident.
“I’ve spent most of my life away from the spotlight,” Mark said, his voice smooth, practiced, carrying easily over the crowd. “Not by choice, but by design. My mother chose to protect me. Conrad Vale chose to deny me. But now, as a grown man and an heir in my own right, I’ve decided to step forward—not to create division, but to claim my place.”
The words hit like several punches.
The room buzzed with shouting reporters, flashes popping like lightning. Headlines began scrolling across the bottom of the screen before my mind could even catch up.
CONRAD VALE’S HIDDEN SON REVEALED,
SHAKEUP EXPECTED AT VALE CORP AS ALLEGED HEIR STEPS FORWARD.
ELENA VALE’S POSITION UNDER THREAT?
I stood up so fast the couch creaked behind me.
Jack sank down slowly, as if his body needed the support. Every muscle in him looked wound tight. I couldn’t stop staring at the screen, my hands clenched so hard at my sides my nails bit into my palms.
For a moment, I couldn’t think straight.
The reporter’s voice cut back in, brisk and speculative.
“While the Vale family has yet to issue a formal response, legal experts believe this revelation could drastically alter the company’s leadership structure. With no formal denial from Conrad Vale and mounting public interest in Mark Kessler’s claim, many believe the reign of Elena Vale as CEO may be nearing its end.”
I reached for the remote and shut it off.
The silence afterward was brutal, it dropped into the room like a hammer, heavy and unforgiving. But even with the sound gone, Mark’s voice lingered in my head like he’d been preparing for this moment his entire life.
With Mark going public with his relationship with the company, and with my father willing enough to support him no doubt, It appears there are more battles to fight.
I'd fought to have and keep that position for like half of my existence and now, it'll be taken from me?
Jack looked up at me. His jaw was tight. “He didn’t wait.”
“No, he didn't.” I said quietly. My voice sounded distant to my own ears. “He clearly wants this.”
My heart was still racing, but the shock was already cooling, hardening into something sharper.
I turned away from the blank screen and folded my arms across my chest, suddenly aware of how exposed I felt standing there like I’d been stripped down in front of the entire world.
“I thought he was playing the long game,” I murmured. “Trying to understand me and I don't know... Build trust? Maybe even get close before making a move.” I swallowed. “But this… he was always going to do this.”
Jack stood, his voice firm. “I believe he wanted the public on his side before the board could react.”
“Yes.” I nodded slowly. “And now the media has done half the work for him.”
I walked to the window, drawn there without thinking. My reflection stared back at me in the glass—cold but still composed. I looked like a woman carved from marble.
“I should’ve known,” I said after a long moment. “He was too calm and too patient. The kind of patience that comes from planning, not from trust.”
Jack came up behind me, his hand resting gently against my back. The touch grounded me more than I wanted to admit.
“You weren’t wrong to trust him,” he said quietly. “You just didn’t expect him to strike this fast.”
“No,” I admitted. “I didn’t.”
He turned me toward him carefully. “You’re still the CEO. You’re still Elena Vale.”
I shook my head. “For now,” I said.
He shook his head back at me. “No, not for now. You’re the one holding this company together.”
I looked at him then, pain and anger logged in my throat. Maybe I was stupid enough to think Mark won't go the extra mile to get what he wants.
I took a long breath, forcing my spine straight. “Tomorrow, I will call an emergency board meeting.”
Jack nodded without hesitation. “I’ll be there.”
My eyes searched his face, I'd lost too much to let this go down the drain and that was when real fear overtook me entirely.
“We can’t lose each other in this,” I said softly.
He blinked. “We won’t.”
The next day, I sat at the head of the boardroom table, my spine straight, chin lifted, hands folded neatly on the polished mahogany as though I were posing for a photograph.
CEO Elena Vale—Unshakeable—Untouchable. Well, that was what the headlines used to say about me.
But I was silently losing my mind at the sight of very chair around me that was empty. No one board member in sight, none had dared to honor my invitation for the meeting. There was only one assistant hovering nervously near the door, no murmured apologies or last-minute excuses whispered through cracked glass doors. There was just defiant absence.
I stared at the far end of the room, my eyes fixed on the reflective surface of the wall as if I could will someone to appear. As if the sheer force of my expectation might bend reality.
The clock on the wall ticked loudly, each second stretching too long and too sharp, like it was counting down to something ridiculous.
This isn’t happening, I told myself.
But it was, in front of me.
My fingers curled beneath the table, my nails pressing into my palms. I barely noticed the sting. My chest tightened instead, my breath catching in a way that felt humiliatingly close to panic.
I hated that feeling, I hated how quickly it reminded me of being powerless, of being a girl watching grown men decide her future behind closed doors. After all I've done all these years to get out of that shithole, Mark and my father had to ruin it. What did I ever do wrong?
The second hand of the clock clicked forward again.
That was it.
I shoved my chair back, the screech echoing off the glass walls, ugly and loud and impossible to ignore. I didn’t bother calling after anyone. I didn’t bother pretending this was a misunderstanding.
I stood, turned, and walked out, my heels striking the marble with sharp, furious precision. Each step I took was like a punctuation mark.
The hallway felt too open, I could already imagine the whispers that would follow later, the ridiculous looks and the carefully neutral expressions that meant everything and nothing all at once.
Back in my office, I shut the door harder than necessary and twisted the blinds closed until the sunlight disappeared completely.
That was when my composure finally cracked.
I braced both hands on my desk, my fingers gripping the edge so tightly my wrists ached. My reflection in the darkened glass stared back at me.
For a moment, I thought I might scream. God— I wanted to. The sound clawed at my throat, begging to be let loose.Instead, a strangled gasp slipped out of me.
This wasn’t politics or caution or strategic distance, this was betrayal. Obviously deliberate and coordinated. Mark’s press conference hadn’t been a warning shot. It had been a declaration, a typical shift of power and even the board hadn’t hesitated.
They’d chosen him, they'd chosen my father—They’d chosen anything but me.
I laughed bitterly under my breath, sharp and humorless. Of course they had. Men like them always did. They would choose stability over truth, legacy over loyalty and control over conscience. That was how it worked for them.
The door opened behind me but I didn’t turn right away, I knew who it was before he spoke.
Jack closed the door gently. That alone almost undid me.
“Elena,” he said softly, like my name was something fragile. “It’s going to be okay. We’ll figure out a way through this.”
I spun around then, the words hitting something raw and exposed.
“No,” I snapped. The edge in my voice surprised even me. “It’s not okay.”
The silence that followed was thick, but not empty. Jack didn’t flinch or argue. He just watched me, his expression was steady, patient, like he knew this storm had to burn itself out.
I started pacing, my movements restless, my thoughts colliding into each other too fast to keep up with. “They didn’t even show up,” I said, the words spilling out now. “Not one of them. Do you know what that means? It means they’re not afraid anymore. It means they think I’m already finished!”
I stopped in front of him, the distance between us suddenly unbearable. “Mark didn’t destroy me,” I continued, my voice dropping. “He didn’t have to. He just reminded them who they really belong to.”
Jack’s jaw tightened slightly. “Then we'll remind them who you are.”
I let out a shaky breath. “You don’t get it, do you? This isn’t just business, this is my father tightening the leash on me. This is him reminding me that no matter how high I climb, he still thinks he owns and can control me. The very reason why I had to be rebellious and get into this marriage with you on a whim, because I didn't want to settle with his ridiculous choice for me.”
My gaze locked onto his, searching and demanding. “And whatever your past is with him... Jack—whatever leverage he has on you—you need to figure it out,” I said, each word more strained than the last. “Now. Before it ruins everything, before it ruins me.”
The lump in my throat burned. I hated that he could see it, hated that my voice wavered despite my best efforts to keep it steady.
Jack took a step toward me. “Elena—”
“I can’t afford blind spots, Jack.” I cut in. “Not anymore!”
For a moment, something unreadable flickered across his face. Was it guilt? Conflict? Or resolve? Maybe all three but I didn't care.
But he didn’t argue and that scared me more than any lie could have.
My chest tightened again, I turned away before he could say anything else and before he could see how close I was to unraveling.
I grabbed my bag from the chair by the window, slung it over my shoulder, and marched toward the door like escape was the only thing keeping me upright. My hand hovered over the handle for just a second but I didn’t look back at him.
Maybe—just maybe I'd chosen the wrong king in this game after all.