Chapter 9

The conference room felt like a courtroom.

Long glass table. Half a dozen Foundation board members. Jade at the far end, jaw clenched, his normally charismatic presence dimmed beneath the weight of scrutiny.

And Kate — sitting in the center of it all, her palms clammy and her spine stiff, like she was bracing for impact.

"Ms. Johnson," one board member, a sharp-eyed woman named Mrs. Langford, began, "do you deny having a personal relationship with Mr. Williams prior to or during your employment here?"

Kate's voice was calm. Practiced. But her throat burned. "No, ma'am. I don't deny it."

Murmurs.

"And were you hired because of that relationship?"

"No. I applied like everyone else. Went through two interviews. The panel selected me before anyone knew."

"But you were living in his home before that, correct?"

Kate straightened. "As a live-in housekeeper. That contract ended before I ever set foot in this building."

Langford nodded slowly, clearly not satisfied. "Regardless of intent, the optics are damaging."

Jade leaned forward finally. "Then let's talk about optics. Kate Johnson graduated top of her class in nonprofit management. Her proposal for our food insecurity project led to a 20% increase in donor engagement. She's qualified. She's dedicated. And I was the one who broke the rule, not her."

"Jade—" Kate started.

He raised a hand gently. "No. I won't let them use you as a scapegoat."

Langford sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Be that as it may, this board has a responsibility to the Foundation's public image. Until the review is complete, we're placing Ms. Johnson on administrative leave."

The words landed like a punch.

Kate blinked. "So I'm suspended."

Langford hesitated. "With pay. Effective immediately."

Jade stood. "This is—"

"Final," another board member interrupted. "Let's not escalate."

---

Kate didn't speak on the ride back to her apartment. The city flew by in streaks of light and noise, but everything inside the car felt heavy.

Jade finally broke the silence.

"I'm sorry."

"You keep saying that," she whispered. "But it doesn't fix it."

"I know."

She looked out the window. "They're right, you know. Even if I earned my spot, the world won't see it that way. I'm just the girl who slept her way into a job."

"No, you're not."

"That's what they'll write in comment sections. What donors will whisper at galas. What people like Evelyn will spin into fuel."

At her name, his jaw tensed.

"She's being dealt with," he said. "The legal team traced the leak to her Foundation email. By tomorrow, her career's done."

Kate didn't smile.

It didn't make her feel any better.

Because the truth was, no lawsuit would fix the way she felt — cheap, exposed, voiceless.

---

Back at Evelyn's sleek apartment, things weren't going as planned.

Her phone buzzed non-stop — not with offers or praise, but with warnings. Her inbox was full of suspension notices, legal threats, and messages from HR demanding an emergency meeting.

And then the knock came at her door.

Two Foundation legal reps. Calm, cold, efficient.

"Ms. Torres, we're here to serve you formal notice of internal breach. You are hereby suspended pending termination and subject to civil litigation for violation of privacy, breach of nondisclosure, and defamation."

Evelyn's smile finally cracked.

"You're suing me?"

One rep handed over the letter. "We'll be in contact. Your email and access have been revoked."

She stared at the envelope, hands shaking.

This wasn't the promotion she imagined.

This was a crash.

---

That night, Kate curled on her bed in silence. Her phone buzzed again and again — her aunt checking in, reporters still fishing, Jade sending gentle texts she didn't answer.

But the one that made her pause came from her old roommate, Mina:

> Screw what the world says. You've always been stronger than their judgment. They don't know what you've survived to get here.

Kate stared at the words for a long time.

Then, finally, she picked up her phone and texted Jade.

> I need space. Just a few days. Please respect that.

The reply came almost immediately.

> I understand. I'll wait. However long it takes.