Chapter 7: In the Eye of the Storm.

Willow Inc. HQ.

Alaric’s POV.

“We suspected there were moles in the company, so we launched an investigation to root them out along with their employer. I won’t disclose names, but one of them eventually confessed and implicated their partner. It turns out she was promised promotions and protection but ended up with nothing to show for it,” I say, holding the board members’ intent gazes.

“And the article?” Mrs. Lionheart’s tone is firm, expectant.

“We managed to speak with the reporter.” I gesture to Javier, who promptly plays the recording of our conversation with the journalist.

A defensive, tremulous voice fills the room. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Can I go back to work now?”

“Sir, trust me. We’re not here to hurt you. Just tell the truth, and we’ll let this slide,” Liam coaxes, his tone as smooth as silk.

“So... I’d be off the hook?” The voice wavers, unsure.

“Completely. You have my word,” Liam reassures him.

There’s a pause, followed by sounds of rummaging, and the voice resumes, quieter. “Fine. Here’s the deal. I’d just received Miss Matilda’s letter when a car pulled up beside me—a Benz, I think. I’d know it if I saw it again.”

“And then?” Liam asks, pressing gently.

“A man in a suit told me to get in. We drove around the block, and he laid everything out—what I had to do, plus a contract with a payout of ten million,” the reporter confesses, voice trembling. “I mean, it was a fortune. I couldn’t say no. I’ve got loans to pay, and my kid is sick, in the hospital more than she’s home. They must’ve known I was vulnerable and desperate.”

His voice breaks. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think… I didn’t know what would happen.”

Liam’s voice is steady, reassuring. “Can you describe the man who paid you?”

“Yes, I’d recognize him. And there was… there was someone else.”

The recording is punctuated by a loud crash, followed by his panicked words: “I shouldn’t have told you any of this.”

The recording ends, leaving the room thick with silence.

“After his confession, we arranged security for him and his daughter. He’s terrified,” I say. “As for the mole in the Marketing Division, she overheard a private conversation about the Chairman’s health—only fragments, which she hurried to report to her employer without understanding the full picture.”

Mrs. Cho raises an eyebrow. “So, is the Chairman really unwell?”

“She overheard Miss James and Liam discussing a doctor’s appointment, but only caught enough to make assumptions. The Chairman’s wife, alarmed by the rumours, insisted they take a break, which is why he’s currently unreachable.”

Nods ripple around the table, and strained chuckles break the tension as they seem satisfied with my explanation. Mrs. Cho offers a warm smile. “You handled this expertly.”

I smile, but there’s a chill beneath it. “Thank you. But isn’t it interesting how quickly you all gathered here? Right as the news broke, not after?”

Mr. Ling clears his throat, clearly uncomfortable. “We received an anonymous text. It claimed the Chairman was dying and would leave the company to you…” His voice trails off, and he looks away.

I let the silence linger, leaning forward. “Aren’t you curious who sent that message?”

Mrs. Lionheart’s eyes glint with intrigue. “I have a guess, but please, do enlighten us.”

I signal Javier, and he uploads the photos Liam obtained from the surveillance system. With the help of Mr. Steve, a detective and friend, we traced the footage from the reporter’s office and identified the car’s owner. Mrs. Chanler. We also caught images of the man who paid the reporter—Mr. Ling.

The board members’ faces range from shock to fury as I speak. “When I discovered this, I dug deeper with Detective Steve’s help. We found that Mrs. Chanler and her son have repeatedly avoided accountability, all thanks to Mr. Ling’s assistance. He rigged their cases with company money, funding bribes that ensured their victories. We’ve uncovered ten slush fund accounts that they’ve used to syphon company funds. Detective Steve is still tracking the full paper trail, but we have enough to press charges.”

A murmur of disbelief ripples across the table. “Who would’ve thought the company’s lawyer and treasurer were working together to embezzle?” I say.

Mr. Ling slams his fists on the table, face twisted with rage. “You’d better have proof. Without it, you’re a fool for making such accusations!” His voice booms as he points a stubby, shaking finger at me.

I meet his glare with a steely calm. “I don’t make accusations lightly, Mr. Ling. I have all the proof I need.”

He sneers, his voice venomous. “You dare threaten me? Clearly, your mother did a poor job raising you. You’re insolent, arrogant!” He stands, face mottled with fury. “I’ll make you grovel for this. Do you even know who you’re dealing with?”

I clench my fists, the insult slicing through me. But before I can react, my father’s voice cuts through the air, cold and sharp. “You will not speak of my late wife in that way again, Mr. Ling.”

He holds Mr. Ling’s gaze, his voice dangerously soft. “You’ve caused enough harm without remorse. Rest assured, I’ll see to it you rot in prison.”

Mr. Ling’s bravado crumbles as he stumbles, falling to his knees. “Please, sir… Chairman Willow, I didn’t mean—”

I nod to Javier. “Let them in.”

With a quick nod, he opens the door, and four police officers step inside. Detective Steve approaches, nodding in acknowledgment before issuing the command. “Arrest them.”

“Mr. Ling, Mrs. Chanler, you’re under arrest for embezzling company funds, defamation, framing Miss James, aiding Mr. Tom Chanler in assault and battery, drug abuse, and bribing judges to pervert justice.”

“What?” Mrs. Chanler screeches, her voice thick with outrage.

Mr. Ling thrashes, his face red. “This is a mistake! I demand a lawyer!”

Steve steps forward, reciting their rights. “You have the right to an attorney. If you can’t afford one, one will be provided. Now, cuff her.”

“You’ll pay for this, Alaric,” Mrs. Chanler hisses. “This isn’t over.”

Mr. Ling’s pleading gaze darts to my father. “Chairman Willow! You know me! This isn’t true!”

But my father’s face is as cold as stone, and everyone watches in silence as they’re led from the room.

I lock eyes with him, my mind drifting back.

* * * Flashback * * *

I pushed open the heavy door to my father’s study, the familiar scent of cigars and aged leather hitting me like a wall. Shadows lurked in the dimly lit room, clinging to the corners, making the space feel smaller, more claustrophobic. My pulse thudded in my ears as I stepped inside, but I kept my head high, determined not to show any weakness.

He looked up, his cold, grey eyes assessing me with the same indifference he might give to a passing stranger. I braced myself, trying to ignore the small, bruised part of me that had once longed for those eyes to soften, to look at me with pride, approval—even love. That part of me had been foolish; I’d taught myself not to need it. Or, at least, I’d tried to.

“What’s this news about me becoming CEO?” I demanded, my voice sharper than I’d intended, but I was too rattled to care.

He closed the book in front of him, fingertips pressing onto the cover with a deliberate slowness that made the seconds crawl. He took his time looking up, his gaze cold and calculating, like a judge passing a sentence. “You were… disappointed when I said I neither trusted or believed in you.”

The words landed like a slap, as they had the first time he’d said them, years ago. I thought I’d grown numb to his scorn, but some old wound still stung, deep down. I forced myself to meet his gaze, fighting the urge to look away. “I was,” I said, swallowing down the bitterness rising in my throat. “But I’ve moved past it. I don’t need your approval.”

He raised an eyebrow, his expression almost amused, as if he found my defiance both amusing and pathetic. “So defiant, Alaric.” His voice was low, each word dropping like a stone in the quiet room. “But you misunderstand me. There are… troubling matters within the company. If you can resolve them, perhaps I may reconsider my view of you.” He leaned forward slightly, voice dropping to a chilling whisper. “But know this: this is the only chance you’ll ever get.”

A hollow emptiness spread in my chest, and I cursed myself for ever craving his validation. That boy I’d been—the one who wanted his father’s pride, who yearned for the smallest sign that he mattered—felt like a stranger now, someone I’d outgrown. But the hurt was still there, buried under years of resentment and bitterness. I forced myself to lift my chin, to summon a defiance I didn’t feel. “Thank you for the offer, but my answer is no.”

His eyes narrowed, a flicker of dark amusement passing over his face. He didn’t respond immediately, letting the silence stretch, oppressive and suffocating. When he finally spoke, his voice was low and dangerous, each word sending an icy chill down my spine.

“You don’t understand, do you?” His tone was almost gentle, but it was the gentleness of a coiled snake, venomous and unyielding. “You don’t have a choice.”

The weight of his words settled over me, crushing, relentless. I swallowed hard, feeling that old, familiar fear creep up from somewhere deep, a fear I thought I’d long since buried. He held my gaze, his expression merciless, and I felt myself shrinking, the boy who once desperately sought his approval now cornered, vulnerable.

With a bitter taste in my mouth, I lowered my eyes. “I… apologise, Father.”

He leaned back, an unsettling satisfaction in his gaze, as though he’d already won. “Liam will assist you. Do as he says, and maybe, just maybe, things won’t go badly for you.”

I stood there, numb, hating the way he held all the power, hating the part of me that still feared him. But he wasn’t finished yet. His gaze lingered, cold and unrelenting.

“This will be the last time you ever act out, Alaric.”

My pulse hammered as I gripped the door handle, willing my face to stay impassive, not to give away the roiling emotions clawing at me. Somewhere deep down, that hopeful boy was gone, replaced by the bitter man I had become. I managed a small nod, each word bitter with a submission I had no choice but to offer.

“I won’t disappoint you,” I whispered, before turning and walking out, his gaze drilling into my back, following me like a shadow I couldn’t shake.

* * * End Flashback * * *

Looking at him now, I wonder if he knew things would turn out like this.