Page 43 of The Alpha's Crimson Vow

Everything hurts. My chest, my throat, my head—it all feels like it’s on fire, and I can’t make it stop.

I thought I knew him. But now, I don’t know anything. And I’m not sure I ever did.

Chapter Twelve

Katherine

Three Months Later

My foot taps gently under the long, polished boardroom table.. I keep my gaze fixed on the projector screen at the far end of the room, the glowing display of charts and financial projections doing nothing to calm the storm swirling inside me. Andrew, one of our directors, is standing next to the projector screen, stating some facts I know all too well. Facts I wish weren't real.

Lately, I’ve been quieter at these meetings—too quiet, maybe. But how am I supposed to speak freely when I’m sitting at the same table as people who might’ve had a hand in the attack on my life? Or worse, in my parents’ deaths? That kind of suspicion changes a person.

It makes you more… careful. Ever since James showed me that heartwrenching video, it’s like my mind won’t let it go. It replays over and over, every detail branded into my thoughts, no matter how much I want to change my focus.

James has been methodical. His theory is it’s likely whoever killed my parents wants me dead as well, and the common denominator is the power we hold in Pinnacle group. The conclusion is easy enough: Someone wants the position I now hold, the position my father held. James has drawn up a list of prime suspects.

Frank and Lawrence sit at the very top, but he’s made it clear we can’t make any assumptions yet. We can’t rule anyone out. It could be anyone sitting here at this very table. That thought alone makes my stomach churn.

But today, my silence isn’t just about the investigation. It’s not just about wondering which one of these people might’ve orchestrated an attempt on my life.

“With everything that’s been said, it’s clear we’re in a desperate position.” Andrew’s voice cuts through my thoughts like a knife through butter. He’s pacing now, his polished shoes clicking against the hardwood floors as he rounds the table. “Without a major injection of investment, and with things as they stand… Pinnacle Group may have no choice but to file for bankruptcy.”

The word hangs in the air like poison, seeping into the room and settling into the pit of my stomach.

Bankruptcy.

Not once during my father’s leadership did that word even graze this company. But now, here we are, staring down the barrel of something I never imagined would be possible. And it’s happening under my watch.

Andrew takes his seat again, his words echoing in my head. I want to respond, to argue, to offer some kind of reassurance—but I can’t. Because I know he’s right.

The Asian expansion. My expansion. My grand vision for this company’s future—the one thing that was supposed to solidify Pinnacle Group as a global powerhouse—is crumbling before my eyes. What should’ve been our crowning achievement is now the iceberg threatening to sink this entire ship.

And it’s all because of Frank.

Somehow, he managed to sabotage everything without even being obvious about it. He didn’t sign off on critical infrastructure costs we’d been working on with our partners. I don’t know how I missed it for as long as I did, but by the time I caught it, the damage was done.

Partners pulled out. Land purchases we’d been negotiating for months were suddenly snatched up by regional companies—or worse, priced astronomically higher than what we’d originally agreed on. Some of the prices have jumped to more than four times what we budgeted.

It’s like watching something I built with my own hands fall apart in slow motion. I threw everything into this plan—time, resources, my reputation. The potential was there, and it still is. But now, because of one stupid act of negligence, it’s slipping through my fingers.

I stare at the projector screen, the numbers and graphs blurring together. My chest tightens. All the figures point straight to a financial disaster. I can’t let that happen. I won’t.

But as I sit here, the reality looms larger than ever, and for the first time ever in my professional career, I feel utterly powerless.

The room is dead silent, and every pair of eyes is locked on me. Everyone’s waiting for me to say something—to pull some magic solution out of thin air. The company is sinking, and I’m supposed to be the one to save it.

“Gentlemen,” I begin, my voice steady, though it takes everything in me to keep it that way. “I understand that the situation we now find ourselves in is… difficult.”Understatement of the year.“As Andrew has stated, we need an injection of investment to stave off bankruptcy, and I will come up with a plan to get us the funds we need.”

The words leave my mouth with practiced professionalism, but the silence that follows is deafening. Their faces remain blank—stoic, motionless, cold. It’s like I’m speaking to a room full of statues. I can almost feel their doubt radiating toward me.

But they’ve seen me make them money before. That’s what they care about, right? Results. Dollars. Numbers on a page. I’veproven I can do it, even if I have no idea how to pull us out of this mess.

Then, just as the silence stretches long enough to start choking me, Lawrence clears his throat. The sound slices through the tension, and every head in the room swivels toward him.

“Pinnacle Group has existed for one hundred and twenty two years,” he says, his tone measured, almost reverent. He lets the words settle. He’s setting up for something big, something calculated.

“And in all that time,” he continues, turning his gaze on me now, “we have never courted catastrophe the way we do now. These aren’t just difficult times. These are desperate times.”

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