Chapter 258

Chapter 258

The moment Charles heard her footsteps, he smoothed his expression into something familiar and warm. But the exhaustion pooling beneath his eyes—that, he couldn't quite conceal.

"Hey." He tilted his head slightly. "You could've called first."

Emily crossed the office in a few quick strides and looked up at him, her gaze searching his face with open concern.

"Are you keeping something from me?"

One eyebrow arched. Then he shook his head.

"No."

"Don't lie to me."

Her voice climbed half an octave, and the corners of her eyes went pink.

"I've seen everything online. Stop protecting me from this."

Charles had braced himself—convinced she'd somehow pieced together the truth about Delbert. But hearing her words, the tight coil of dread in his chest loosened a fraction.

The corner of his mouth curved. He reached out and drew her gently toward him by the shoulder.

Emily planted both hands against his chest and shoved. He let her.

A soft, helpless laugh escaped him. He dropped his arms and kept his voice easy.

"Don't worry. It's nothing we haven't handled before—standard industry friction. PR is already on it. This kind of thing blows over. I've got it covered."

He said it the way you'd describe a minor scheduling conflict. As though the cascade of crises quietly threatening to hollow out one of the most powerful companies in the country was barely worth mentioning.

But Emily wasn't naive.

Howard Group hadn't been built in a decade. It was the product of generations—blood, sacrifice, and relentless strategy accumulated over decades. She knew exactly what it took to keep something like that standing.

And she knew Charles. Right now, he was holding the wall up with his back and pretending he was just leaning against it.

"Don't play this down with me." She held his gaze, her voice dropping into something quieter and more serious. "Windsor Group is stable now. If you need help—if you need anything—you come to me. That's what being married means."

He reached for her again. This time, she didn't resist. She tucked herself against his chest and let him wrap his arms around her.

His voice rumbled low above her head.

"I promise you, it's under control. The Howard family doesn't fold over something like this." A pause. "I didn't say anything because I didn't want you distracted."

They were both running companies. The hours they carved out for each other were already scarce. And there was something else—something in him that simply could not let her watch him struggle. His pride wouldn't allow it. Not with her.

Emily pressed her cheek against his chest and listened to the steady, unhurried rhythm of his heartbeat. The knot of worry in her stomach didn't loosen.

But she didn't push. She didn't want to add another weight to whatever he was already carrying. Instead, she said nothing—and quietly tightened her arms around him.

Howard Group is under attack.

And meanwhile, Windsor Group was still actively partnered with Delbert.

Over the past few weeks, Delbert had been almost suspiciously cooperative—attentive to every detail, quick to accommodate, smooth as polished glass. Nothing overtly wrong. But now, set against the backdrop of Howard Group's sudden, escalating crisis, something nagged at the back of her mind. A quiet, insistent unease she couldn't shake.

She didn't say a word of it to Charles.

She was afraid of what he'd read into it. More afraid that her continued dealings with Delbert might, in some way she hadn't yet mapped out, make things worse for a company that was already fighting on too many fronts.

Emily pressed her lips together and made a silent decision.

She needed to watch the Delbert partnership more carefully. Scrutinize every interaction, every transaction, every move. If there was a thread to pull—if she could find the seam in whatever he was actually planning—maybe she could give Charles something useful.

Maybe she could take something off his plate before he buckled under the weight of it.

Charles felt her go still in his arms and assumed she'd let herself be reassured. The guilt tightened in his chest anyway. So did his resolve to keep carrying this alone.

They stood there in the quiet of his office, arms around each other, each of them sitting on something they weren't saying.

Finally, Emily murmured against his shoulder.

"Promise me something. If it gets to a point where you can't handle it alone—you tell me. We're a team. That's the deal."

"I promise."

His arms drew her closer. His voice was low and rough with something he didn't name. But his eyes, fixed on the skyline over her head, held a decision that was already made—and wasn't going to change.

 

The weight in Emily's chest hadn't lifted by the time she stepped out of Howard Group headquarters.

If anything, it had settled deeper.

She slid into the driver's seat and sat for a moment, one hand resting on the wheel, the other turning her phone over and over in her lap.

He's holding the wall up with his back.

Charles's offhand tone lingered. She knew him too well to be fooled by it. When he truly had a situation in hand, there was a particular quality to his stillness—a quiet, almost wolfish certainty. What she'd seen in his eyes today was different. It was the controlled exhaustion of someone managing more than he was letting on.

She could ask him directly. But she already knew how that would go. If he'd decided to keep her out of it, she wouldn't get a syllable out of him with a direct approach.

She needed another angle.

Emily checked the time, then made a decision. Instead of turning toward Windsor Group's offices, she looped back around the block and pulled up outside the coffee shop at the base of Howard Group's building.

She knew Mike's habits. This was around the time he made his afternoon coffee run for Charles.

She didn't wait long.

He came through the door at his usual quick clip, scanning the menu board before he'd fully stepped inside.

Emily raised a hand.

"Mike." She kept her voice warm, tilting it toward casual. "What are the odds? Sit with me for a minute?"

Mike's expression went through several stages before it settled on politely pained.

"Mrs. Howard." He came over anyway, because there was no graceful way not to. "Mr. Howard's expecting me back."

"Two minutes." Emily slid a latte across the table toward him—she'd ordered it ahead of time. "I'll be quick."

He sat. Reluctantly.

She didn't ease into it.

"You know what's going on with Howard Group. I know you do. Just give me something—I'm genuinely worried about him."

Mike's hand tightened slightly around the coffee cup. A fine sheen appeared at his temple.

"Mrs. Howard, I really think you might be reading into things. It's standard industry stuff—Mr. Howard has it handled. You don't need to worry."

"Standard industry stuff." She repeated it lightly, without mockery, and let it hang for a beat. "Mike, we're family. All of us. Charles is drowning in whatever this is, and I'm his wife. I'm not asking you to break protocol. I just need to know whether we're talking about a cash flow issue, a major client pulling out, or something else entirely."

She pushed gently. She pulled with warmth. She argued from every angle—loyalty, concern, practicality.

Mike didn't budge. His answer was a variation of the same phrase each time, delivered with the blank courtesy of someone who had clearly been very thoroughly briefed on exactly this scenario.

Everything is under control.

Eventually, Emily set down her cup. She smoothed the front of her jacket with one hand, and when she looked at him again, the warmth in her expression had cooled to something clear and businesslike.

"All right. I won't push you." She rose. "But I'll say this once, Mike. When people are kept in the dark, they make decisions based on incomplete information. If something goes sideways because I was operating without the full picture—if it costs Charles something, or costs the company something—that's going to be a very uncomfortable conversation for a lot of people."

She didn't wait for his response. She turned, walked to the door, and didn't look back.

 

Inside the coffee shop, Mike exhaled a breath he'd been holding for the better part of five minutes.

He reached up and pressed two fingers to his temple, then picked up the barely-touched latte and stared at it.

Close. He allowed himself one small, grim smile. Orders are orders. Not a crack.

He had no idea that Emily, now back behind the wheel of her car with a clear view of the shop's glass front, was watching him.

Her gaze was steady. Measuring.