Chapter 65 Dodgy
Timothy
The final handshake of the day lingers longer than necessary.
Corporate politeness. Firm grip. Controlled smile.
“Looking forward to our continued partnership,” the investor says smoothly.
“As are we,” I reply with equal smoothness.
He gathers his files, nods once more, and exits the boardroom. The door shuts with a soft click that feels louder than it should.
Silence settles.
I exhale slowly and drop into the nearest chair, rolling my neck to ease the lingering tension. “Miriam,” I call toward the doorway.
She steps in almost immediately, tablet in hand. “Yes, sir.”
“Main highlights,” I say, pinching the bridge of my nose. “Condensed.”
She glances at her screen. “The board agreed to proceed with the counter-offer strategy against Blackridge, pending legal review. We’re accelerating the European expansion proposal to distract shareholders from the Kestrel loss. And the media team is drafting a press release to reposition the narrative.”
I nod once. “And the risks?”
“The accelerated expansion may strain liquidity in Q3,” she replies evenly. “And there’s concern about retaliation if Blackridge feels cornered.”
I frown. “They will feel cornered.”
“Yes, sir.”
“What about the regulatory committee?”
“They’ve requested additional documentation. Nothing alarming yet, but they’re watching closely.”
Of course they are.
“And the creative division?” I ask. “Any confirmation on the studio rumors?”
She hesitates. “Unconfirmed. But industry chatter suggests Blackridge has secured a high-profile entertainment partnership.”
My jaw tightens.
“Fine,” I say curtly. “Have legal review the counter-offer by tomorrow morning. Push the expansion meeting to first thing Monday. And I want a discreet investigation into Blackridge’s new entertainment ties. Names. Numbers. Timelines.”
“Yes, sir.”
She pauses. “Anything else?”
I lean back in the chair, exhaustion creeping in behind my eyes. “No. You can go for the day.”
She nods gratefully. “Good night, sir.”
When the door closes behind her, I let my head fall back against the chair and groan.
The sound is raw, unfiltered. Just for a second.
“Rough day?”
I open one eye.
Rowan stands in the doorway, sleeves rolled up, tie loosened, looking just as worn as I feel.
“You could say that,” I mutter.
He walks in without invitation and perches casually on the edge of the conference table, crossing one ankle over the other. “I’ve been going through the numbers again.”
“And?”
“And the timing’s too clean,” he says. “Blackridge didn’t just stumble into this. They had help.”
I sit up straighter. “From?”
Rowan pulls out his phone and taps on the screen. “Word is, one of the biggest directors in Hollywood just signed something… quiet.”
“Who?”
He turns the screen toward me.
An e-tabloid headline blares in bold letters about a rumored partnership between Blackridge Media and a globally acclaimed director known for box-office dominance and award-season sweeps.
I lean closer, scanning the article.
“If this is true,” I murmur, “that explains the sudden valuation spike.”
“Exactly,” Rowan says. “They didn’t just acquire Kestrel. They packaged it with prestige.”
Halfway through reading, a text notification slides across the top of Rowan’s screen.
>You can’t do anything right younfucking bastard.
The typo barely registers.
What does register is the venom.
Before either of us can comment, the phone starts ringing.
The name flashes across the screen.
Nina.
Rowan’s posture changes instantly.
His easy slouch disappears. His shoulders go rigid. His jaw tightens.
I glance at him. “You going to get that?”
He doesn’t answer.
The phone keeps vibrating insistently.
Suddenly, Rowan snatches it back from my line of sight. His expression darkens in a way I’ve never seen before, hard, almost panicked.
He stands abruptly, stepping away from the table like the device burned him.
“Rowan?” I rise slowly. “You okay?”
He stares at the screen for a split second longer, then presses end.
The room feels different now.
Tense.
“Yes,” he says quickly. Too quickly. “Yeah. Of course. It’s just… family issues.”
I cock a brow.
Rowan doesn’t have family.
He grew up in foster homes. He’s mentioned it exactly a million times in the years I’ve known him, each time in passing, each time without emotion.
“Family?” I repeat carefully.
He shakes his head. “Not family. I mean…” He exhales sharply. “It’s complicated.”
I study him.
His hands are slightly clenched. His breathing just a fraction uneven. This isn’t annoyance. This is something else.
I step closer. “Rowan.”
“What?” he snaps.
The word cracks through the air, sharp and defensive.
My brows lift.
He never snaps at me.
“I was going to ask if you needed help,” I say evenly.
His jaw tightens. For a second, something flickers across his face, maybe. Then his voice hardens.
“Drop it,” he says, quieter but still biting out the words. “It’s nothing.”
I hold his gaze.
There’s something there. Something completely unlike the Rowan I know, the calm strategist, the unflappable right-hand man.
“Okay,” I say finally, lifting both hands in surrender. “I’ll drop it.”
He forces a tight smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “Good.”
Silence stretches awkwardly between us.
He clears his throat. “We’ll deal with Blackridge. One way or another.”
“We will,” I agree.
He nods once, then moves toward the door. “Have a good night.”
“You too.”
He pauses for the briefest second, then gives a strangely forced cheerful wave. “See you tomorrow.”
And then he’s gone.
I remain standing in the boardroom, staring at the closed door.
Nina.
The name lingers in my mind.
Whoever she is, she clearly has power over him.
And I don’t like not knowing things.
Still, I did promise to back off.
With a sharp exhale, I shake my head and gather my thoughts.
Enough.
I leave the boardroom and head to my office. I change out of my work jacket, loosen my tie, adjust my cufflinks. The reflection staring back at me in the glass door looks composed, controlled.
But my mind is busy.
Blackridge. The director. Rowan’s mystery caller.
And somewhere beneath it all….
Hannah.
I glance at the clock.
It’s time.
I smooth down my sleeves, grab my phone, and head to my office to prepare to meet my wife.