Chapter 11 Cracks in the Glass
I woke to the glow of Zurich's skyline bleeding through the penthouse windows like liquid gold. My head ached from too little sleep and too much adrenaline. Damian was gone, but his jacket still hung over the back of the armchair where he'd left it, a silent mark of his presence.
I padded barefoot to the kitchen. The floor was cold under my toes, a welcome jolt. Everything about this penthouse was sleek-black marble counters, stainless steel appliances, the faint smell of expensive coffee lingering in the air-but this morning, it felt like a stage before a play. Empty. Waiting.
My phone buzzed on the counter.
Marcus Hale – URGENT
My stomach dipped. The message was just a link. I tapped it and a headline from the Financial Times exploded onto my screen:
CROSS GLOBAL + GREENSPHERE: COLLUSION OR CONSPIRACY?
Below it, leaked documents-contracts, emails, even my personal calendar-painted a picture of backroom deals and hidden payoffs. None of it true, all of it devastating.
I gripped the counter until my knuckles whitened. Marcus. Only he had access to those files.
The sound of the private elevator sliding open behind me made me flinch. Damian walked in, suit jacket over his arm, tie loosened, eyes already scanning me like I was a report he had to read.
"What happened?" he asked.
I turned my phone toward him. His jaw tightened, but he didn't look surprised. "I saw it ten minutes ago. Our stock dipped seven percent at the open."
My throat went dry. "Seven percent?"
He poured himself coffee with hands that were too steady, like he was daring the universe to see him rattled. "Lang's fingerprints are all over this. But he's not smart enough to get inside your files. Someone helped him."
"Marcus," I whispered. Saying it aloud made it real.
Damian sipped his coffee, studying me over the rim of the cup. "You're sure?"
"He was the only one with clearance. And he's been-" I stopped myself. I didn't want to say it. Didn't want Damian to know how much I'd trusted Marcus.
He set the cup down with a soft click. "We'll handle it. But first, you're going to sit down."
"I don't have time to sit down. We need a response, a statement-"
"Elena." His voice cut through mine like steel. "If you go out there shaking, you lose. Sit."
I sat. My hands trembled in my lap, and I hated it. I hated how calm he looked, like the world could burn and he'd still stand there sipping coffee.
"This is what they want," he said, leaning on the counter. "To make you look weak. You don't give them that."
"I'm not weak," I snapped.
His eyes softened, but only a fraction. "I know."
For a moment, silence stretched between us, heavy with things unsaid. My chest rose and fell like I'd just run a race.
"Why are you so calm?" I asked finally.
"Because this isn't my first war." He straightened, his voice low, intimate. "But it's yours. So let me do what I do."
Something in me rebelled at that. "You mean let you control everything?"
"I mean let me protect you," he said quietly.
The words lodged in my throat. No one had ever said that to me before. Not without wanting something in return.
My phone buzzed again. Another headline:
BREAKING: Swiss Authorities to Review GreenSphere Contracts
I closed my eyes. "They're coming after the contracts now."
Damian moved closer, close enough that I could feel the heat of his body through my thin blouse. "Then we'll make them regret it."
"How?" I whispered.
He crouched beside my chair until we were eye level. "First, we find out exactly what Marcus gave them. Then we leak something back. Something that makes Lang look like the liar he is. I have a file that will bury him if it comes to it."
The way he said it sent a shiver down my spine. Ruthless. Controlled. A man who'd built his empire on secrets and leverage.
And yet, when his hand brushed mine on the table, it wasn't a calculated move. It was... human.
"Elena." His voice softened even more. "I know what it feels like to be betrayed by someone you trusted."
I stared at him. "Who betrayed you?"
A shadow flickered in his eyes. "Another time."
Silence again. This time, it wasn't heavy; it was charged.
I stood abruptly. "I need air."
He let me pass without stopping me, but when I stepped out onto the balcony, I could feel his gaze like a weight between my shoulder blades. Zurich stretched out below, clean and glittering, a city built on secrets and money.
I gripped the railing. The cold metal bit into my palms. I'd built GreenSphere from nothing. I'd believed Marcus when he said he believed in me. And now this.
The balcony door slid open. Damian joined me, his presence filling the space like a storm cloud.
"You're not alone in this," he said.
I laughed, sharp and bitter. "Aren't I? This is my company, my name-"
"Our company now," he said.
I turned on him. "Is that what this is about? Ownership? Control?"
"No," he said simply. "It's about survival."
The wind tugged at my hair. For a moment, neither of us spoke. Then he reached out and tucked a stray strand behind my ear. The gesture was small, almost tender, but it made my breath catch.
"I need to know I can trust you," I said.
"You can," he said. "But you have to trust me back."
And there it was-the real risk. Not the merger. Not the headlines. This. Him.
I stepped back, my heart pounding. "I don't know if I can."
He didn't move closer. He just stood there, looking at me with eyes like dark glass. "Then we're already losing."
Below us, the city kept moving, oblivious. Cars like ants, trams gliding on silver rails, the river cutting through the skyline like a blade. My world was collapsing and Zurich didn't even blink.
Damian's phone buzzed. He glanced at it, then back at me. "They've scheduled an emergency hearing in London," he said. "We need to be on a flight tonight."
"Tonight?"
He nodded. "Pack whatever you need. The board wants blood, and they're not going to wait."
My legs felt shaky, but I straightened. "Then let's go."
He studied me for a moment longer, as if weighing something. Then he stepped back, giving me space. "Good. We'll win this. But from now on, you follow my lead."
I opened my mouth to protest, but stopped. The truth was, I didn't know how to fight a war like this. And as much as I hated it, he did.
"Fine," I said finally. "But on one condition."
His brow lifted. "Name it."
"You keep me in the loop. No secrets. No backroom deals I don't know about."
A slow smile curved his lips, this one real, dangerous. "You're asking a wolf not to hunt."
"I'm not asking," I said.
He held my gaze for a long moment, then nodded. "Done."
It wasn't a promise. It was a truce.
I turned back to the view. The city was still glittering, but now it felt like glass under my feet-fragile, dangerous, ready to shatter.
Somewhere inside me, a voice whispered: This is how it starts. This is how you lose yourself.
And another voice, darker, whispered back: Or how you finally win.
Behind me, Damian's phone rang again. "Our jet's ready," he said. "We leave in two hours."
I took a breath, squared my shoulders, and turned to face him. "Then let's go to London."
His eyes softened just a fraction. "That's my girl."
The words sent a flicker of heat through me-anger, attraction, fear-I couldn't tell.
But as we walked back inside, side by side, I knew one thing: the glass between us was cracking. And once it shattered, nothing would ever be the same again.