Page 47 of The Alpha's Crimson Vow

I allow my final words to settle, my eyes scanning the crowd again for a reaction. Anything. But the silence stretches on, as though my words have been swallowed whole by the room.

No one claps. No one nods. No one even moves in their seats. For a moment, I wonder if they even heard me.

The board members sit with stone-faced indifference, Lawrence’s smug satisfaction barely concealed as he leans back in his chair. Frank, beside him, whispers something to the man on his right, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.

I force my gaze away, scanning the rest of the room. A few guests glance awkwardly at each other, some pretending to be engrossed in their drinks or the patterns on the tablecloths. Even the waitstaff stationed at the edges of the hall seem frozen, unsure if they’re supposed to react.

I nod once, curtly, and step back from the microphone. I head toward my seat, my head held high, though inside, my thoughts are a whirlwind of frustration, anger, and doubt.

This was supposed to be the moment to turn it all around. The moment to inspire confidence. But instead, it feels like the final nail in my coffin.

I gulp down the champagne as soon as I take my seat. The bubbly liquid is cold as it slides down my throat, but it doesn’t do anything to dull the heat creeping into my face.

Tomorrow, the board will vote. They’ll replace me as CEO, claiming I wasn’t strong enough to lead them. That I wasn’t good enough to save my father’s legacy. I’ll wake up to headlines calling me a failure, a cautionary tale, the woman who let the Pinnacle empire fall.

The thought makes my stomach churn.

“Hello, Katherine.”

The voice is smooth, pointed, and far too familiar. My shoulders stiffen instinctively as I hear it, pulling me from the spiraling mess in my head.

I turn, my eyes lifting to meet the source of the voice. I don’t know who I’m hoping to see, but when I realize who it is, a sigh escapes me before I can stop it.

“Good evening, Chris Winter,” I say, my tone flat, making no effort to conceal the disappointment lacing my words.

Chris stands there, hands tucked casually in his pockets, his perfectly tailored suit catching the soft glint of the chandeliers above. He glances around the hall, the faintest smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Doesn’t seem like your rallying cry worked,” he says, his voice low and smug, every word carrying that irritating undertone of condescension he’s mastered so well.

I don’t respond. Not because I don’t have a snarky comeback ready—oh, I do—but because I don’t have the energy to spar with him right now. Instead, I turn back to the emptying hall, staring blankly at nothing, letting the silence between us stretch.

Chris, of course, doesn’t take the hint. He pulls out the chair beside me and slides into it. He leans in, close enough that I can feel the edge of his presence brushing against me.

“You should be happy I’m here,” he says, his voice dropping lower. “I’m the guy who just might save Pinnacle Group from going bankrupt.”

I almost roll my eyes, but his words tug at something in me. A flicker of curiosity. A whisper of hope. Just enough to make me bite.

“Is that so?” I ask, not even trying to mask the skepticism in my voice.

“Yes,” he says smoothly, leaning back in his chair like this is all some casual business meeting. “You’re well aware the Winter family has been behind Pinnacle Group for decades.”

“And the Winters were the first to cut their losses and run at the first sign of trouble when this situation began,” I shoot back, my tone cool and dismissive.

His smile falters for a fraction of a second before he recovers, sighing lightly as if I’m the one being difficult here. “I’m a businessman, Katherine. I have a board and investors to answer to, just like you do. And unlike you, I don’t intend to disappoint them.”

His words land like a slap, the thinly veiled insult making my jaw tighten. He notices and that infuriating smirk returns to his face, as if he enjoys seeing me bristle.

“However,” he says, leaning forward now, his tone turning to something heavier, “I’m here to tell you that I will save your company. I’ll give Pinnacle Group the investment it needs to stay afloat.”

A tiny spark of hope ignites somewhere deep inside me.Could this actually be real?Relief brushes against the edges of my thoughts, but I force it back, clamping down on it before it can take root.

This is Chris Winter. It’s never that simple.

I clasp my hands together on the table, finally turning to face him fully.. “What do you want, Chris?”

His smirk widens, like he’s been waiting for me to ask that exact question. “What?” he says, feigning innocence. “Is it beyond the realm of possibility that I’m doing this as a nice gesture? A show of faith. After all, our companies have had a great working relationship for decades.”

I narrow my eyes. “Cut the bullshit, Chris.” My voice hardens, my patience wearing thin. “What do you want?”

He sighs, almost dramatically, then his expression changes slightly, the playful smugness giving way to something colder. More calculated.

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