The stale air of the boardroom hung heavy, as if Dominic’s words had left a residue no amount of ventilation could clear. Celeste’s breath hitched—sharp, brittle, like a glass shard slicing through the calm. She sank into her chair, the leather creaking beneath her weight, heart hammering a frantic Morse code against ribs still rigid from the confrontation.

Her fingers trembled, tracing invisible circuits over the polished mahogany table. Every eye locked on her, but she saw none. The room blurred—the cold fluorescent lights casting elongated shadows on the walls, the faint hum of the city beyond a distant drone drowned by the surge of adrenaline.

“Celeste,” a voice cracked, tentative yet insistent.

She blinked, focusing on Paul. Her CFO’s face was a worn canvas of concern stitched with exhaustion. “We can’t ignore this. Dominic isn’t just throwing insults—he’s playing a game, and it’s ruthless.”

The others murmured agreement, the corporate mask breaking momentarily into murmurs of unrest.

Celeste pushed herself upright. The burn in her throat settled into a steely resolve. “Then we find his moves. We expose them.”

Paul nodded, already tapping furiously on his tablet. “Financials from the last quarter—there are irregularities. Offshore accounts, sudden wire transfers disguised under shell companies.”

Her pulse clenched tighter. “Show me everything.”

Minutes folded into hours; the room emptied save for the low glow of screens and the scratch of a pen across legal pads. Celeste’s eyes darted across spreadsheets and encrypted files, every number whispering a secret she refused to ignore.

Then, a pattern emerged—like a skeleton riddled beneath fresh skin.

“Look here.” Paul’s voice was a hushed command, fingers pointing to a ledger flooded with cryptic entries. “Transactions siphoned from Harper Holdings’ subsidiaries. Dates align suspiciously close to our meetings with Lowell Corp.”

Celeste’s gaze snapped to the timeline, the realization coiling like a serpent in her gut. “This isn’t just corporate sabotage.”

“No.” Paul exhaled slowly. “This is personal.”

The room’s temperature seemed to drop—the scent of peppermint and expensive coffee turning cold and bitter. Celeste’s mind raced, each conclusion carving deeper grooves of dread.

She grabbed a dossier from the side table. Among the papers, a thin manila envelope, untouched, concealed beneath layers of tedious reports. With deliberate caution, she peeled it open.

Inside, a faded photograph slipped out. Hands trembling, she examined it—the edges frayed as though time had clawed at its surface.

Dominic. But not the tycoon standing before her now.

This Dominic, younger, standing next to her father. Smiles freezing into something colder, harder.

A folded letter slipped from behind the photo, ink smudged but legible.

“Your betrayal cost me everything. This goes beyond business, Celeste. I will make you pay.”

The air thickened. Her fingers tightened around the paper like a lifeline slipping through water.

Dominic’s grudge wasn’t just a chip on his shoulder—it was a smoldering blaze, smothered for years, now set to engulf them both.

A sharp knock fractured the silence. The door creaked.

Celeste’s eyes snapped up. “Come in.”

The room held its breath.

A courier, hands steady but eyes darting, stepped forward and placed a sealed envelope on the table before retreating silently.

Celeste peeled the wax seal, revealing a single word scrawled inside: Remember.

Her heart slammed against ribs as the weight of that one word sank like a stone.

Dominic’s war wasn’t just for a company—it was a reckoning.

And she was right in the crossfire.