Chapter 4 Leadership Tested
Damian’s POV
By the time we left Sorella, the markets had stabilized. Three-point-two percent down. Manageable. Not acceptable — but manageable. Containment was the first phase of any war. The second was exposure. The car ride back to the office was quiet. Not tense. Not strained. Focused.
Courtney scrolled through her tablet, likely tracking media sentiment again. I watched her in the reflection of the tinted window rather than directly. She did her best thinking when she appeared calm. Which meant she was building something.
“You’re planning a counter-narrative,” I said.
She didn’t look up. “Already drafted.”
“Timing?”
“Forty-eight hours.”
I nodded once. Good. Immediate retaliation would look reactive. Strategic patience would look confident.
“You’re certain about accelerating the acquisition?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“It will provoke Ardent.”
“It’s supposed to.”
She finally looked at me. “You’re baiting them.”
“Correct.”
A subtle shake of her head. Not disagreement. Assessment.
“Then we need to control the optics before you pull that trigger.”
“We will.”
The car stopped beneath the private entrance of McKay Enterprises headquarters. Security had tightened overnight. Additional personnel. Restricted access. Someone inside had betrayed us.
That meant trust was now a luxury. Inside my office, I shut the door and loosened my tie for the first time all day. The screens flickered with updated numbers. An alert pinged across one monitor. Unusual account movement flagged. I moved to the console immediately. There. A transfer. Small. Hidden inside routine fund adjustments. But it was connected to one of the shell accounts I’d identified earlier. And it traced back to a consulting firm contracted by— I leaned closer. Board Member Daniel Hargrove. Of course. Predictable greed disguised as loyalty.
A soft knock interrupted my focus.
“Come.”
Peter stepped inside. Unannounced. Unapologetic. Still wearing his Stanford hoodie like he hadn’t just flown cross-country. I straightened.
“You weren’t supposed to be here,” I said evenly.
“Yeah, well.” He shut the door behind him. “I don’t like watching family get ambushed from three thousand miles away.”
I studied him carefully. He looked older. Sharper. Less careless.
“You have practice,” I said.
“I have priorities.”
A pause. Interesting.
“Does Marcus know you’re here?” I asked.
“He thinks I’m in study hall.”
I almost smiled.
“Sit.”
He didn’t. Instead, he stepped toward the screens.
“That’s him?” he asked, pointing at the flagged account.
“Yes.”
“Proof?”
“Not yet admissible. But enough.”
Peter folded his arms. “So what’s the play?”
I leaned back against the desk. “The forensic audit will expose him publicly.”
“And if it doesn’t?”
“It will.”
He tilted his head slightly. “You sound certain.”
“I am.”
He nodded once. Then, quieter: “You’re not going to burn the entire board to make a point, are you?”
There it was. Not accusation. Concern.
“No,” I said. “I’m going to remove the weak link.”
Peter’s jaw shifted. “He sold information?”
“He positioned himself to profit from panic.”
“Same difference.”
Silence settled between us. For a moment, I saw the version of Peter from a year ago — reckless, charming, detached. This wasn’t that version.
“You’re different,” I observed.
He shrugged slightly. “Stanford has that effect.”
“Shouldn’t you be celebrating your acceptance?” I asked.
His expression shifted. “You knew.”
“I always know.”
A faint smirk.
“Stanford said team captain,” he confirmed. “Full-ride sports scholarship. They said I can enroll earlier."
“You’re not going,” I said calmly.
His brows lifted. “Excuse me?”
“You’re here instead.”
“I can fly back.”
“No,” I said evenly. “You’re here because you wanted to be.”
Silence. He didn’t deny it.
“I don’t like the idea of you fighting alone,” he admitted.
“I’m not alone.”
His gaze flickered slightly — acknowledgment of Courtney.
“Still,” he muttered.
I stepped forward.
“You don’t pause your life because mine becomes complicated.”
“It’s not just complicated, Damian. It’s targeted.”
“Yes.”
“And you’re escalating.”
“Yes.”
He exhaled slowly. “Just don’t lose yourself in it.”
I held his gaze. “I won’t.”
A knock interrupted us. Courtney stepped in.
She stopped briefly when she saw Peter. “Should I be worried?” she asked lightly.
“No,” Peter replied. “Just assessing the battlefield.”
She smiled faintly. “Good. Because I just found something.” She moved toward the desk and turned her tablet so we could see.
A draft press release. But not ours. Felicia Ardent’s. Ardent Global.
“How did you get this?” I asked.
“I have friends,” she said calmly.
The document outlined a public call for “industry transparency” and hinted at an independent ethics coalition — one that would subtly exclude McKay Enterprises.
They were preparing to frame us as unstable long-term. Strategic isolation. I felt something cold settle in my chest.
“They’re pushing for regulatory review,” Peter muttered.
“Yes,” I agreed.
Courtney met my eyes.
“They’re not just attacking your credibility,” she said. “They’re positioning themselves as morally superior.”
“They’re attempting a slow bleed,” I corrected.
Peter stepped back. “So what’s the move?”
I looked between them. Two people who mattered more than the board. More than the stock.
“We accelerate,” I said.
Courtney didn’t argue this time. Instead, she nodded once.
“Then we do it clean,” she said. “Transparent. Aggressively ethical.”
Peter snorted softly. “Aggressively ethical. That’s new.”
“It works,” she replied.
He studied her. “You’re not scared,” he observed.
She met his gaze evenly. “No.”
“Why not?”
“Because I know who he is.”
Silence. Peter looked at me differently then. Not as an older brother. Not as an authority. As a leader.
“You’re really going to Stanford?” I asked him.
“Yes.”
“You’ll build your own path?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
He nodded once. Then, quieter: “Just promise me something.”
I waited.
“If it gets ugly… you call.”
I didn’t hesitate this time.
“I will.”
He left a few minutes later — not dismissed, not ordered away. Choosing to return. Choosing to trust. When the door closed, Courtney remained. The room felt quieter. Heavier.
“You’re proud of him,” she said softly.
“Yes.”
“You should be.”
I stepped toward the window again. The skyline hadn’t changed. But the energy had.
“They think I’ll overreact,” I said.
“They’re hoping you will.”
“I won’t.”
She came to stand beside me. “Then what will you do?”
I watched the reflection of the city lights in the glass.
“I’ll make them underestimate me.”
Her brows lifted slightly. “That’s risky.”
“So is betrayal.”
I turned to face her fully.
“They’re expecting fury.”
“And?”
“They’ll get patience.”
A slow smile curved her lips. “That’s more terrifying.”
“I know.”
She stepped closer. Not strategic. Not professional. Personal.
“You don’t have to carry this weight alone,” she said.
“I know.”
“And I’m not going anywhere.”
I looked down at her.
“You already proved that.”
She reached up, adjusting my loosened tie absentmindedly. A small, intimate gesture in the middle of corporate war.
“Then let’s win,” she said softly. Not if. When.
I rested my forehead briefly against hers. Just for a second. Then stepped back. There was work to do. The audit would expose Hargrove. The acquisition would destabilize Ardent’s projection. The board would realign. And when the dust settled— McKay Enterprises wouldn’t just survive. It would expand. Because wars weren’t won by anger. They were won by endurance. And I had more of that than they realized. If someone wanted to test my leadership— They were about to learn that patience could be lethal.