Page 42 of The Founder's Power

Support at the very least.

Presence.

Faith.

Maybe he doesn’t need a solution. Maybe he just needs someone who believes he’s more than what he’s built.

I glance down at my paint-streaked hands and exhale. I’ve been trying to protect myself from being hurt again, but love isn’t safe, and the version of love I want with Damian, the version where we choose each other every day even when it’s hard? That requires both of us.

Maybe it’s time I start asking not just what he owes me but what I’m willing to give.

* * *

It takes me a bit,a long while, but I come up with some ideas, and a few days later, I head inside the tower with KINCAID etched in steel across the front like a monument to ambition.

Now I walk straight through the front doors.

The woman at reception stiffens as I approach. “Mr. Kincaid doesn’t have any appointments?—”

“I know. He’s not expecting me, but?—”

“You’re Isabelle, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” I say slowly.

She smirks and makes a point of looking at her phone and not reaching for it. “Go ahead up.”

I offer her a small smile, and her smirk grows.

A beat later, I’m in the elevator, heart pounding. I don’t have a plan. What I have is conviction and a folder tucked under my arm filled with what might be the missing piece he’s been looking for.

When I step into the top-floor office, Damian’s standing at the window, phone to his ear, voice low and clipped. He turns when he hears me, and his entire body goes still.

“Let me call you back,” he says, and ends the call without waiting for a reply. “Isabelle?”

“I know I’m not supposed to be here,” I say, walking toward him, “but I think I can help.”

He frowns, cautious. “Help with what?”

“Veridian Holdings.”

That gets his full attention.

I set the folder on the table between us. “I’ve been doing research. Not spying, just… watching more or less, and I remembered something from last year, one of the patrons who came through the gallery. A woman named Estelle Raynor. You probably wouldn’t know her. She’s quiet, extremely private, but she’s one of the top cultural liaisons in Europe, and she sits on the Veridian Holdings board.”

Damian slowly walks to the folder and opens it.

“I reached out to her,” I continue. “Not to pull strings. Just to ask questions and see what Veridian Holdings’ endgame is, and I found out something interesting. They don’t want your media empire.”

He looks up sharply.

“They want the tech under it—the behavioral analytics platform. They want the data intelligence not the content.”

He blinks once, like he’s recalibrating.

“I also spoke to a contact in the nonprofit sector who just transitioned into ESG compliance. She gave me a list of firms Veridian Holdings won’t touch for ethical reasons. If you reroute part of your infrastructure—your social initiatives, your sustainability reports—they’ll back off.”

He’s quiet as he stares at me. “You did this,” he says slowly, “on your own?”

---