Adison’s POV
The boardroom already hums with tension before I take my seat.
I can feel it like static electricity—crackling through the air, settling into my bones with a warning I recognize from years navigating these particular sharks. The board members arrange themselves around the polished table with the precision of chess pieces positioning for attack.
Gideon doesn't wait for pleasantries.
"Care to explain why Friday's press conference occurred without board notification?" His voice cuts across the room sharp enough to draw blood. "Or approval?"
The question lands exactly where he intended—publicly, strategically, designed to make me look reckless in front of everyone whose opinion actually matters for my position here.
I open my mouth to respond, but Victoria's voice joins his before I can formulate the first word.
"The board deserved advance notice, Adison." Her tone carries that smooth reasonableness I've learned to distrust completely. "Your personal life affects Ward Enterprises whether you acknowledge it or not."
The unexpected alliance tightens something in my chest. Victoria defending the board's right to control my announcements feels like betrayal wrapped in silk, even though I should have anticipated this exact move.
Zachary straightens beside me, his firm composure sharpening into something that looks almost dangerous.
"Perhaps we should discuss what Walter Snyder was doing among the journalists?" His question redirects with surgical precision. "Seated in the front row. Prepared to attack."
Victoria's dismissal comes smooth and practiced, like she's rehearsed this exact deflection. "My son is an adult who makes his own choices. I don't monitor his social calendar."
The lie lands obvious enough that even Gideon shifts uncomfortably. But calling it out directly would only escalate tensions I'm supposed to be calming, so I force steadiness into my voice and attempt to restore some semblance of order.
"The announcement was necessary." I meet each board member's gaze directly, channeling every ounce of authority my father taught me. "The execution was professional. My personal life won't impact company operations—that's a promise, not a negotiation."
Silence settles heavy over the table. I can see them calculating, measuring my composure against their concerns, trying to decide whether this is a battle worth fighting right now.
Then the door opens.
Violet enters carrying a delicate porcelain cup, steam rising from what smells like chamomile. She crosses to where I'm sitting with movements that look casual but feel deliberately calculated.
"Calming tea." She sets the cup down in front of me with pointed care. "I figured you might need it, given how nerve-wracking these sharks can be."
Stunned silence blankets the room.
I watch shock ripple across faces as board members process what just happened—Victoria Snyder's daughter appearing in their boardroom, commenting on their behavior, serving me tea like we're allies instead of strategic acquaintances.
Gideon recovers first, his voice tight with barely contained outrage. "What is Victoria Snyder's daughter doing in this boardroom?"
Zachary's response arrives immediately and unmistakable in its pride. "Violet is my assistant. A Ward Enterprises employee." He pauses, letting that settle. "She's here because she works here."
Victoria attempts to reach across the professional distance, her maternal instinct finally surfacing through her composed exterior. "Violet, darling. Could we speak afterward? I'd like to—"
"I have considerable work today, Mrs. Snyder." Violet's voice lands like ice cracking across still water. "I'd appreciate not being disturbed during business hours."
Mrs. Snyder. Not Mother. Not Mom. The formal address cuts deeper than any insult could have managed.
Violet turns and walks out, the door closing behind her with quiet finality that feels louder than slamming would have been.
I recognize the calculated rebellion immediately and respect it completely. This is Violet choosing her ground, drawing lines Victoria can't cross without acknowledging the damage she's inflicted. The girl who tried to seduce Jake at the ranch has transformed into someone who understands power dynamics well enough to weaponize them strategically.
I also catalogue Zachary's instinctive defense of her—the pride in his voice when he claimed her as his assistant, the way his posture shifted protectively the moment Gideon questioned her presence. I file it away for later examination, because something is definitely happening there that neither of them seems ready to acknowledge yet.
The meeting concludes with reluctant consensus that feels more like a temporary ceasefire than actual resolution. Nothing catastrophic has occurred yet, but they'll be monitoring my choices closely. Watching for cracks. Waiting for mistakes they can leverage against my position.
"Thank you all for your vigilance." I force grace into the words even though they cost me more than I let show. "I appreciate your dedication to protecting what my father built."
The board members file out in careful silence, and I watch Victoria linger near the door. Her expression carries something that might be genuine hurt beneath her usual composure, but she doesn't attempt conversation. Just leaves with her shoulders carrying weight I recognize from my own mirror.
Then it's just Zachary and me in the empty boardroom, and I lean back in my chair with exhaustion pulling at bones that feel suddenly too heavy for my body to support.
"Your dynamic with Violet seems to have improved." I observe it carefully, watching his face for reactions he might not intend to show. "She's settling in well."
His response arrives professionally neutral, walls reconstructing with visible effort. "She's performing better than her first day suggested. Learning quickly when she chooses to focus."
The deflection is obvious. The careful distance is unmistakable. Whatever shifted between them last night—and something definitely shifted—he's not ready to discuss it. Not with me. Possibly not even with himself.
I decided not to press. I'll watch instead. Give them space to figure out whatever this is becoming without my interference complicating something that already looks complicated enough.
"Good." I stand, gathering my materials with movements that feel heavier than they should. "Keep me informed if anything changes."
He nods once, and I leave him standing in the boardroom that still carries traces of tension we barely managed to contain.
Something is shifting between my assistant and my new ally. Something neither of them expected and both of them are trying to ignore. I'm genuinely curious where it leads—whether they'll acknowledge what's building between them or whether they'll keep pretending professional distance is something either of them actually maintains successfully.
I'm betting on acknowledgement. Eventually. When the tension becomes too impossible to ignore.
But for now, I'll watch. And wait. And let them navigate this particular minefield on their own terms.
God knows I have enough chaos managing my own impossible situation without interfering in theirs.