Chapter Eight

The glass doors of Blackwood Industries slammed open as Juniper strode inside, her heels clicking against the marble floor like gunfire. The receptionist barely had time to gasp before Juniper's voice sliced through the tension in the room.

"I want to see him. Now."

The young woman hesitated. "Mr. Blackwood is in a meeting, Ms. Hale, and he…"

"I don't care," Juniper snapped, her pulse a war drum against her ribs.

Everything was unraveling. The lawsuit. The accusations. The million-dollar donation. And Adrian

He had known. He had known something about her mother, about her death, and he had stayed silent.

She stormed past the receptionist, ignoring the shouts of protest, and pushed open the heavy mahogany doors to the boardroom.

The scene inside was chaos.

Adrian sat at the head of the table, his expression carved from stone as his board members hurled accusations like daggers.

"This lawsuit will cripple us."

"The shareholders want you gone."

"The Blackwood name can't afford another scandal, Adrian."

His cold, calculated exterior didn't crack. But Juniper saw it, the tension in his jaw, the slight clench of his fingers against the table's surface.

He was cornered.

Good.

Because so was she.

Without hesitation, she strode into the room, ignoring the gasps and murmurs from the suited executives.

Adrian's head snapped up. The moment their eyes met, something flickered in his gaze, something of relief, regret, something deeper, something raw.

"Juniper—"

She slammed her hands against the table. "Did you know?"

Silence suffocated the room.

Adrian rose slowly, his broad frame casting a shadow over the polished wood. "We're in the middle of something."

"I don't care," she spat. "Did you know about my mother?"

His expression didn't change, but the way his throat worked like he was swallowing broken glass told her everything.

Her breath hitched. "Oh my God."

"Juniper—"

"You knew," she whispered, the betrayal slicing deeper than she thought possible. "And you said nothing."

The executives exchanged wary glances, but neither of them cared.

It was just the two of them now.

Adrian exhaled sharply and turned to the room. "Get out."

One by one, the board members hesitated, then filed out, some murmuring under their breath.

When the doors shut, silence stretched between them.

Adrian rubbed a hand down his face, exhaustion clinging to the sharp edges of his features. "I was going to tell you."

"When? After the lawsuit buried you?"

His lips pressed together. "After I had something solid. Something that wouldn't just destroy me but take down the people who actually did this."

Juniper let out a hollow laugh. "Right. Because I'm supposed to trust you now."

His gaze darkened. "You trusted me before."

Her stomach twisted. "That was before I knew my mother's death was connected to your family."

Adrian flinched. It was the first time she had seen him truly shaken.

She pressed forward, her voice trembling with rage. "Tell me the truth, Adrian. What the hell happened?"

He didn't move for a moment.

Then, slowly, he walked to the bar cart in the corner, poured himself a drink, and set the glass down untouched.

"My father." His voice was quiet. "He covered something up."

Juniper's nails dug into her palms.

"He funded a subsidiary company one involved in offshore drilling. When your mother started exposing them for illegal dumping, they silenced her." His eyes met hers, raw and unguarded. "They made sure she never spoke again."

Juniper's breath left her in a ragged exhale.

No.

No, she had spent years chasing this, tearing apart every lead, every whisper of conspiracy.

And Adrian had held the answer all along.

She took a step back, nausea rising. "So you knew. And you let me—"

"I only found out after I took over the company," Adrian cut in, his voice sharp with desperation. "After I started digging into the accounts, the reports" He ran a hand through his hair. "I was trying to fix it, Juniper. I was trying to make it right."

She let out a bitter laugh. "By throwing money at my nonprofit? Like that erases what your family did?"

"I thought it was the only way to help without making things worse."

Her throat tightened. "You should've told me."

Adrian's jaw clenched. "And what would you have done? Gone public? Do you think they wouldn't have buried the story? Buried you?"

The words sent a shiver down her spine.

She had spent her entire life fighting against corruption, against powerful men who thought they could buy silence.

But Adrian—

Adrian wasn't just another billionaire protecting his interests.

He was a man standing at the edge of a cliff, torn between the world he had inherited and the one he wanted to build.

A storm raged in his eyes, fierce and unrelenting. "Let me fix this."

Juniper shook her head. "I don't think you can."

He took a step closer. "Then let me try."

The air between them crackled with something sharp, something dangerous.

She hated him.

She wanted him.

Her heart pounded as his fingers brushed against hers a silent plea, a question neither of them wanted to ask.

And then—

The door burst open.

"Mr. Blackwood." One of the board members stood in the doorway, his expression grim. "The vote has been cast."

Adrian stiffened. "And?"

The man hesitated. Then—

"You're out."

The room tilted.

Juniper saw the moment the words hit him, the flicker of disbelief, the way his shoulders tensed as if bracing for impact.

Adrian Blackwood—one of the most powerful men in the city had just been dethroned.

He let out a slow breath, straightened his tie, and nodded once. "Understood."

Juniper took a step toward him, something uneasy settling in her gut. "Adrian—"

He turned to her, his voice barely a whisper.

"I need you."

Then his eyes rolled back, and he collapsed.

Juniper lunged forward, catching him before he hit the floor.

His weight pressed against her, his skin burning through his suit.

"Adrian?" Her voice cracked. "Adrian, stay with me."

His breathing was shallow, his pulse erratic.

Panic surged through her veins.

She had come here to destroy him.

Not to lose him.