Page 126 of Terms of Exposure
"I've had these since before the merger closed," Jennifer continued. "I pulled them the week the Davidson breach happened. And then I watched you stand in front of a room full of people and call them forgeries." She leaned forward. "So let me ask you again, Damien. What's your plan when someone finds proof?"
The silence stretched so long I thought it might snap.
Then Damien exhaled slowly, and when he looked up, fear had been replaced by determination.
"What do you want?" he asked quietly. "I'll give you anything. Name your price. A position at Falkirk. Stock options. A seat at the table when the dust settles." He spread his hands. "Whatever it takes."
She let him dangle, leaning back in her chair, arms crossed.
"I don't want a damn thing."
Damien blinked. "Excuse me?"
"You heard me. I don't want your money. I don't want a promotion. I don't want stock options or a fancy title or whatever else you think you can buy me with." She turned to me, expression softening. "I want Emma to come out of this unscathed. That's it. That's the only price."
The words settled over the room like a blanket.
Damien stared at her. Jennifer stared back.
"Then we want the same thing."
"It appears we do."
What followed was the most efficient hour of my life.
Jennifer pulled out a legal pad—yellow, college-ruled, the same style she'd used since business school—and started writing.
"First. The relationship." She pointed her pen at both of us. "No more hiding. No more avoiding each other in hallways. Starting tomorrow, you're going to act like two people who are falling for each other. Slowly. Naturally."
"Falling for each other," Damien repeated. "We're already—"
"I know what you already are. The rest of the world doesn't." She scribbled something down. "Lingering looks. Coffee runs together. The occasional lunch that goes five minutes too long. Nothing scandalous—just enough that when the official announcement drops, people nod and sayI knew itinstead ofwhat the hell."
I looked at Damien. "Agreed."
"Second. HR disclosure." Jennifer flipped to a new page. "You file in three weeks. Not sooner—that looks panicked. Not later—that looks like you were hiding something."
"Three weeks," I echoed. "That's specific."
"It's strategic. Long enough for the 'organic' chemistry to register. Short enough that no one can accuse you of dragging your feet."
"Third." Her pen stopped moving. "Nathan Bell."
The temperature in the room dropped.
"He's going to keep digging," she continued. "Emma said he's been pushing on the audit for weeks. That's not going to stop just because his mentorship ended."
"I can handle Nathan," Damien said.
"Can you handle him without starting a war?" Jennifer's gaze was sharp. "Because right now, you're sitting on a powder keg. One wrong move and the whole thing blows."
Damien's mouth pressed flat, but didn't argue.
"No confrontations," Jennifer said firmly. "No threats. No flexing whatever leverage you think you have on him—not yet. Let him dig. Let him chase shadows. The more time he wastes looking for proof, the less time he spends causing actual damage."
"Andif he escalates?" I asked.
"Then we reassess." Jennifer circled something on her notepad. "But we don't fire first. Understood?"
