Lines in the Sand

Kiefer's POV

I stood in front of the glass-paneled conference room, clutching the folder to my chest like a shield. The morning buzz of White Pharma was at full volume—heels clicked across the polished floors, executives muttered into comms, interns hustled with too-full binders and not enough confidence.

But I wasn't here to blend in today. I was here to be heard.

The receptionist had been replaced—thank God. This one, a soft-spoken man with sharp glasses and sharper attention, simply nodded after checking his tablet.

"Mr. White asked not to be disturbed, but once I showed him your name—he said to send you in immediately."

I swallowed. Here we go.

The door hissed as I pushed it open. Davis stood at the far end of the room, back to the windows, a tablet in one hand, his other hand running through his hair in frustration. The skyline behind him made him look every bit the mogul the world believed him to be.

He turned the moment I stepped in.

"Kiefer," he said, his voice low, tinged with something between relief and dread.

"I'm not here to accuse you," I said, before he could speak. "But you need to see this."

I walked to the table and laid the folder down, flipping it open one page at a time. The pitch video, the timestamped drafts, the email threads. His eyes scanned each piece silently, jaw tight, breath shallow.

"I didn't know," he said after a long pause, finally meeting my gaze. "I swear, I didn't know this came from you."

Davis's POV

The weight of the folder felt heavier than anything I'd ever held. Each line of data screamed something I hadn't been prepared for: that I had been played. That my company—my name—was being used to steal someone else's voice.

And not just anyone.

Kiefer.

The girl who had walked into that room weeks ago, unflinching under the cold stares, burning with a quiet fire I couldn't name. I remembered her hands—steady but calloused, as if she carried more than knowledge. Like she carried roots. Memory. Pain.

And now she was carrying betrayal.

"I believe you," I said, softly. "But this changes everything."

She didn't flinch. "That's why I came. Not to cause a scandal. But to give you a chance to choose the right side before this becomes public."

Her voice trembled, just a little. She was still human under the fire.

"I've spent the last two days gathering this," she continued. "Not to hurt you—but because if I let this go, if I let someone else wear my story, I'll never forgive myself."

Kiefer's POV

He sat down slowly, running a hand over his face.

"Katherine submitted this to the board two days after your interview went live," he said quietly. "She must've copied it, repackaged it... and with her last name…"

I nodded. "No one questioned it."

"No one would dare."

Silence stretched. A crackling pause filled with things neither of us could undo.

"I need your advice, Davis," I said finally. "Not because I'm scared, but because your name is tied to this. This product is now on headlines. The media is calling it revolutionary. But if I speak up now, this whole company will be dragged through the mud. Including you."

He looked at me then—really looked.

"I don't want you to choose between your image and the truth," I added. "But I need to know… What do you stand for, Davis? Because I already know what I do."

Davis's POV

Her words hit harder than anything the boardroom had ever thrown at me.

What do I stand for?

I thought of my father. Of the legacy he tried to pass down like a crown of thorns. Power without conscience. Profit without pause.

But this… this wasn't some numbers game. This was a woman who had fought through loss, through class, through silence—to get here.

And now, she stood at the edge of everything, still choosing to offer me a chance before the storm broke.

"I stand for what's real," I said at last. "I stand for what you just gave me."

I stood, took the drive, and slid it into my own tablet. "Do what you need to do, Kiefer. Hold your conference. Speak your truth. If they ask me, I'll back you. Completely."

A pause.

"Even if it means losing Katherine?"

He met my eyes. And for once, there was no corporate polish. Just clarity.

"I never really had her," he said.

I exhaled, not realizing I'd been holding my breath.

Kiefer's POV

As I turned to leave, something in me eased. The storm wasn't over—not by a long shot.

But I wasn't facing it alone anymore.

Not in silence. Not in shame. Not with lies wrapping my legacy.

I left that room carrying more than evidence now.

I carried resolve.

And the next time the world heard from me… it would hear the truth.