The email hit at 6:27 a.m.
Emery was in the middle of tying her hair back when her phone buzzed against the marble sink. She glanced down, expecting another reminder from her calendar or one of Nicholas's early-morning voice notes.
Instead, it was a link.
No subject line. No sender name.
Just a single hyperlink and the red dot of an unread message.
She hesitated.
Then tapped.
The headline exploded across the screen in bold, merciless font:
"ASHFORD AFFAIR: Billionaire CEO Accused of Breach of Conduct in Scandalous Relationship with Executive Assistant."
She didn't breathe. Not for a full five seconds. Not until her vision started to blur at the edges and her lungs remembered what they were for.
"No," she whispered.
She scanned the article—fast, frantic, hoping it was a hoax, a smear, a badly timed coincidence. But there it was: her name. Her position. Even a blurry photo of her exiting Nicholas's penthouse.
The air turned thin.
She didn't realize she was shaking until her phone nearly slipped out of her hands.
By the time she reached Ashford Tower, the lobby was chaos.
Cameras. Reporters. Security guards pressing back a tide of noise and flashes. A reporter shouted her name. Another screamed a question she couldn't hear over the thrum in her ears.
She pushed through the side entrance, taking the private elevator to the 70th floor. No one else was inside. Just her reflection in the mirrored walls—pale, wide-eyed, trembling.
Her badge still worked.
That scared her more than if it hadn't.
Because if it was still active, it meant the board hadn't acted yet.
But they would. And soon.
Nicholas was already waiting.
His sleeves were rolled up. His jaw was locked tight, hands braced on the edge of his desk like he was holding the world in place by sheer force of will.
She barely got two steps in before he looked up.
"I saw it," he said. "Fifteen minutes ago."
"Lucas," she said flatly.
He nodded once. "He's been planning this."
Emery didn't sit. Couldn't.
"Do they know how much of it is true?"
"They know just enough to make it dangerous."
She paced the office, her heels silent against the carpet. "The board?"
"Emergency meeting at ten. PR's been trying to delay the press but it's everywhere already. My inbox is burning."
"I'm so sorry, Nicholas."
His eyes snapped to hers. "No. You don't apologize. This is on me. I should've shut Lucas down months ago."
She walked to the window, arms crossed tightly across her chest. The skyline looked different this morning—less like steel and more like a noose.
"How bad is it?" she asked.
Nicholas hesitated.
"That bad," she whispered, answering herself.
The silence stretched. Tense. Heavy.
"I should leave," Emery said finally.
Nicholas turned toward her slowly. "What?"
"I should go. At least for now. Let the story die down, let the board calm—"
"No." The word cracked like a whip.
She faced him. "This isn't about pride. It's about strategy. I've already been painted as the problem—"
"And leaving makes it look like you were."
"It protects you."
He walked to her, voice low but electric. "Emery, listen to me. If you walk away now, they win. Lucas wins. You think this is just about the scandal? It's about power. Control. Removing you is the first step. Removing me is the second."
"You think the board would go that far?"
"I don't think. I know. Lucas wants the company. He wants the legacy."
"And he's using me to get it."
Nicholas reached for her hand, threading his fingers through hers. "You're not a pawn, Emery."
She swallowed hard, eyes burning.
"Then why do I feel like one?"
There was a knock at the office door.
Marla.
Her voice was clipped when she entered. "You have twelve minutes before the board calls you in. The CFO and legal are already there. Press is outside with questions."
Nicholas looked at Emery. "Stay."
"Where?"
"In the war room. With me."
She exhaled. "Are you sure?"
He didn't answer with words.
Just a look.
One that said everything.
The boardroom was a minefield.
Lucas sat at the far end of the table, flanked by two directors. He looked relaxed. Almost amused.
Emery felt Nicholas's hand brush her lower back as they walked in, his version of armor. She stood beside him, unblinking, as whispers darted across the room like sparks.
"I expected more subtlety," Nicholas said, voice calm but lethal.
Lucas leaned back in his chair. "It's not personal."
Nicholas smiled coldly. "Everything's personal."
The CFO cleared his throat. "We need to address the article."
"We will," Nicholas said. "But let's be clear—there has been no breach of conduct. No abuse of power. No coercion. What's happening here is a smear campaign orchestrated by someone who stands to benefit from my removal."
All eyes turned to Lucas.
He didn't flinch. "If this were anyone else, there'd already be a vote."
Nicholas looked at the room. "And if we let a smear dictate our actions, we're no longer a company. We're a headline."
Emery's voice was steady when she finally spoke.
"I've never used my position for leverage. I've never asked for special treatment. I've earned everything I've done here, and if this board removes me—or Nicholas—without investigating who leaked confidential internal records to the press, then this company isn't being run by leaders. It's being run by opportunists."
The room stilled.
Lucas's smile faded.
And for a heartbeat, Emery felt something shift.
Something small.
But real.
Afterward, Nicholas pulled her into a side room—his old conference lounge, rarely used, quiet and sunlit.
"Proud doesn't even begin to cover it," he said, brushing a strand of hair from her cheek.
She smiled, weakly. "I feel like I've been fighting for my life all morning."
"You have."
"And tomorrow?"
"We fight again."
She leaned into his chest. "Do you really think we can win?"
"I don't know," he murmured. "But if we lose, we lose together."