Page 93 of Falling for the Grump Billionaire

Wordlessly, he hands me the phone. My stomach twists as I read the message:

“Check the news. Your journalist isn’t who you think she is.”

The elevator ride to the penthouse feels excruciatingly slow. Dominic stands stiffly beside me, the phone still clutched in his hand. The tension between us is palpable, a living, breathing thing pressing down on us both.

As soon as we step inside, Dominic strides to his desk and powers up his computer. The screen flickers to life, and his fingers fly across the keyboard, pulling up a news site.

The headline hits me like a punch to the gut:

“Kane Enterprises Insider Linked to Journalist with Questionable Past.”

Below it, my photo stares back at me, flanked by cherry-picked details of my early career. The article dredges up old accusations—allegations of unethical practices and manipulation. My stomach churns as I skim through the exaggerated claims from a disgruntled editor who was looking for someone to blame.

“This is Conrad,” I whisper, my voice shaky. “He’s trying to destroy my credibility.”

Dominic’s silence is deafening. His eyes remain fixed on the screen, his expression unreadable as he scrolls through the article.

“Dominic,” I begin, panic rising in my chest. “None of this is true. Those accusations were baseless—my editor was looking for a scapegoat, and I was convenient.”

“I believe you,” he says finally, his voice low but steady. “But this isn’t just about the truth, Eva. It’s about perception. And whoever leaked this knows how to weaponize it.”

The words sting, though I know he isn’t accusing me. Still, the reality of the situation feels like a weight pressing down on my chest. This attack isn’t just personal—it’s strategic.

Hours pass, but the tension doesn’t abate. I sit on the couch, scrolling through the flood of online comments. Strangers pick apart my life, calling me everything from an opportunist to a liability. My chest tightens with every word, the vitriol sinking deeper under my skin.

Across the room, Dominic paces near the window, his phone pressed to his ear. His voice is clipped, sharp, as he speaks with Adrian.

I close my laptop, burying my face in my hands. The guilt gnaws at me, whispering that the world might be right. That my presence here is doing more harm than good.

“Eva.”

I look up to find Dominic standing in front of me. His expression is softer now, though the tension still lingers in his eyes.

“I don’t know if I can do this,” I admit, my voice barely above a whisper. “Every move I make seems to backfire. Maybe I should step back—let you handle this without me.”

Dominic crouches in front of me, his hands resting on my knees. “Don’t,” he says firmly. “That’s exactly what they want. They want you to doubt yourself, to back away.”

“But what if I’m making it harder for you?” I ask, the words tumbling out before I can stop them.

His grip tightens slightly. “Eva, you’re not a liability. You’re the reason I haven’t burned this whole thing to the ground yet. Don’t ever doubt your place in this.”

His words cut through my doubt like a blade, grounding me. I nod, swallowing the lump in my throat.

Dominic’s phone buzzes again, breaking the fragile moment. He answers quickly, his expression sharpening as he listens.

“What do you have?” he asks, pacing back to his desk.

I watch as his eyes flick across the screen. “Send it to me,” he says before ending the call.

“What is it?” I ask, standing to join him.

“Adrian found something,” Dominic says, opening his email. He pulls up a series of intercepted messages from Conrad’s network. One email stands out—a message addressed to Dominic months before the first breach.

The subject line reads:“Critical System Vulnerabilities.”

The email outlines concerns about a potential backdoor in Kane Enterprises’ systems. My stomach tightens as I read the final line:

“We recommend immediate action to address these vulnerabilities before they can be exploited.”

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