Page 32 of The Founder's Power

I smile at that. I don’t pretend to understand. I just listen and hope that’s enough.

“I don’t know if you’ve been to the gallery enough, but the floors creak in one particular place right at the entrance, and no one’s ever fixed it.”

“I hadn’t notice.”

“I used to hate it,” she says, swirling the last of her rosé, “but now… I don’t know. It’s part of the rhythm. A kind of welcome. Nothing has to be perfect to have value, right?”

I just stare at her. I want to tell her she just described me or who I want to become, but I can’t bring myself to.

The waitress brings our food—stuffed squash blossoms for her, herb-crusted lamb for me. It’s simple. Nothing plated for Instagram. Just nourishment made by someone who gives a damn.

Like this place.

Like her.

We eat. We laugh. We fall quiet again. Even in the silence, I feel something shifting. I’m not trying to impress her. I’m just with her, and maybe, just maybe, that’s the thing she needed most.

And slowly, I realize I don’t want to fix anything anymore. I want to witness, to ear, to be present.

Even when we touch now—if we touch—it’s fleeting and hesitant. A brush of fingers. A shared laugh that leans us closer than we meant to be. And sometimes, when the silence settles just right, I see it in her eyes that she’s starting to think that maybe this time will be different. Maybe I won’t break her again. Maybe love and power don’t have to compete.

But even as we walk toward something new, the cracks remain. She still flinches when I hesitate. I still overthink every word before I say it.

There are no guarantees, only effort and the quiet promise I make to myself every morning not to win her but to love her without conditions and without control. She’s not another deal. She’s the reason I stopped chasing them.

And if I can keep showing her that, if I can keep choosing us even when it’s messy, uncertain, and unsteady, then maybe we won’t need to name what this is.

Maybe we’ll just become it together.

So despite the ups and downs with my business, I’m doing my damndest to do right by her.

CHAPTER17

DAMIAN

I’m halfway through my second cup of coffee when Clara walks in to my office without knocking first.

That’s never good.

She closes the door behind her, which is another bad sign, and sets a thick folder on my desk. Her expression is tight but professional, with just enough edge to tell me I’m not going to like what’s inside.

“What is it?” I ask, already flipping it open.

She doesn’t answer.

Inside, I find financial projections, acquisition patterns, PR shifts, digital market footprints, shareholder movement and one name, printed in bold at the top.

Veridian Holdings.

I look up sharply. “I thought they were staying in biotech.”

“They were,” Clara says. “Until last quarter.”

I scan the documents faster now. Veridian Holdings isn’t like Vincent. They don’t play dirty. They don’t leak gossip or whisper sabotage. They acquire quietly, efficiently, and, most of all, permanently.

“Media. Infrastructure. Financial platforms.” My mouth goes dry as I read. “They’re buying pieces of the skeleton.”

“They already bought Nexon Analytics,” Clara says. “Closed it two weeks ago. You’ll see the press release tomorrow, but it’s done.”

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