Page 24 of The Founder's Power

Then I whisper, “So what’s it going to be?”

And I wait for the truth or maybe the end.

CHAPTER12

DAMIAN

She’s staring at me like she’s already halfway out the door. Like she’s waiting for me to prove her right. And that terrifies me more than losing any deal Vincent Grey could sabotage.

I swear she already knows the answer or at least is bracing for it, and that wrecks me because I don’t want her to be right.

I don’t want her to walk away thinking I’m incapable of giving her the one thing she’s always deserved—the truth.

But the truth is ugly, messy, and fractured, and I’ve spent years crafting a version of myself that doesn’t bleed.

Not in public.

Not in private.

Not even in love.

But now she’s standing here asking me to bleed, and all I can think is what if she sees what’s underneath and walks away anyway?

I also can’t turn off the part of me that calculates and measures risk.

If you fall too far into this, everything you’ve built will come down with you.

So I hesitate just long enough for the silence to sting.

“I need to know something,” I say carefully. “When you saw Vincent… what did he say to you?”

Her brows pull together, her whole body going still. “Seriously?”

“I just want to know what game he’s playing.”

“Damian—” she starts.

“Did he touch you? Did he try anything? Was he trying to?—”

“No,” she snaps. “Don’t do this. Don’t deflect. I didn’t come here to give you intel like one of your advisors. I came here because I needed you. The real you.”

I flinch, but I can’t stop the questions from pushing their way out. “You don’t think it’s relevant? That the man who’s actively trying to dismantle everything I’ve built is also trying to get close to you?”

Her eyebrows lift, and her lips fall apart.

Hmm. Of course he didn’t let her know about that part of his grand scheme.

But she crosses her arms and narrows her eyes. “I think it’s convenient that you’re more comfortable talking about Vincent than talking about us.”

Fuck. That stings.

She steps back, pain flashing in her eyes. “You say you care and that you’re scared, but the second things get too real, you go cold. You calculate. You retreat.”

“I’m not retreating.”

“Yes, you are,” she says quietly. “Maybe you don’t even realize it, but you’re doing it again right now. I told you what I needed. I laid everything bare, and instead of meeting me in that, you’re already pivoting—to control, to strategy, to Vincent.”

I drag a hand through my hair, tension climbing my spine. “If I let my guard down and everything I’ve built crumbles, what am I supposed to offer you then?”

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