CHAPTER NINETEEN —
ASHLEY POV
The building knows before we do.
I feel it the moment I step through the revolving doors.
Not a sound. Not a sight. Just a shift. Like the air gained weight overnight. Conversations in the lobby are lower, tighter. Security stands straighter. The receptionist's smile is still polite, but her eyes keep flicking toward the elevator bank like she's waiting for something—or someone—to step out of it.
"Morning," I say.
She nods. "Morning, Ms. Dean." No small talk today, I say to myself.
The elevator ride up feels longer than usual. No one checks their phone. No one jokes. A man in a gray suit clears his throat twice and never says anything.
When the doors open on PR, the floor hums the way a beehive does when something large passes overhead.
Harper is already standing, leaning over someone's desk, whispering. She sees me and straightens.
"Good morning, dearest."
"Best morning, dear. So how are you?"
"I am good, thanks. And you?" I drop my bag on my desk as I reply.
"I am blessed," she nods, and I smile.
She glances past me, toward the glass walls that line the executive corridor.
"I didn't sleep."
"That makes two of us," Emma says, walking toward us.
I drop into my chair and log in, letting the screen glow back to life. My inbox loads slowly, showing a few routine emails. A calendar reminder.
And then—
A company-wide notification.
ALL STAFF — 9:30 A.M. — MAIN FLOOR MEETING
It has no sender name. No explanation.
Harper leans closer. "That's not a good sign."
I release a breath I didn't know I was holding, then straighten up.
"It's a sign all the same," I say. "Good or bad depends on who's holding it."
The office starts to buzz.
People stand. Sit back down. Pretend to work. Fail.
By the time we head for the stairs, the whole building feels like it's being herded toward something it doesn't fully understand.
The main floor fills fast. Employees from every department. Legal. Finance. Marketing. IT. HR. The board's assistants stand along the walls, faces carefully neutral.
Claire from HR is near the front, hands folded, posture perfect. She catches my eye and gives me a look that says, Brace yourself.
The doors at the far end of the room open.
It's not Damien.
The disappointment is immediate. Physical. You can feel it ripple.
Then recognition hits as Eric walks in like he owns the floor under his feet.
Not in the way Damien does—cold, precise, like the world is a machine he's already mastered. Eric is different.
He's presence. Heat. Gravity that doesn't bother pretending to be polite.
He's dressed simply. Dark jacket. Open collar. No tie. The kind of look that says rules exist, but not for him.
A whisper moves through the crowd.
"That's one of them."
"Damien's friend."
"Eric Vale."
"I've seen him on the news."
"Isn't he the one who bought that shipping empire last year?"
"The one who shut down a senator with a single interview?"
Harper's voice is low in my ear. "That's a billionaire."
I nod, noticing the dark aura around him—not as powerful as Damien's, but in no way less dangerous.
"So I see. Are you attracted to him?" I whisper back.
"Not like that," she whispers, linking her finger with mine. I guess it's for moral support.
Eric steps to the front. Claire moves aside without being asked.
He doesn't touch the microphone.
He doesn't need it.
"Good morning," he says, and the room goes silent.
"I won't waste your time," he continues. "Damien Axford is unavailable."
A murmur breaks. Controlled. Uneasy.
"Before rumors outrun reality," Eric says calmly, "let me make this simple. He's fine. CrownWave is fine. Your jobs are fine."
A breath of relief moves through the room. He lets it happen.
Then he adds, "For now."
The air tightens again.
"I'm Eric Vale," he says, though no one here needs the introduction. "I'm stepping in as acting CEO until Damien returns."
No applause.
Just weight.
Harper exhales slowly. "This is not normal."
I don't respond.
Because Eric's eyes sweep the room.
And stop on me.
It's not long. Not obvious. But deliberate enough for me to notice.
My spine straightens without my permission.
He looks away and continues.
"Operations continue as scheduled. Department heads will receive updated authority chains by noon. Legal, Finance, and HR will meet with me directly after this."
Claire nods once.
"Questions," Eric says.
No one raises a hand.
He studies the room.
"Good. Who is the CEO assistant?" he asks casually.
Everybody turns to look at me.
"That is me, sir," I say, raising my hand.
"You will be in all my meetings," he says, then steps back.
Just like that.
The meeting dissolves into movement and noise, but it's not the same as before. Conversations are sharper now. Quieter. Everyone walks like the floor might shift if they step wrong.
Harper grabs my arm. "Okay. I need you to explain how you resuming less than two weeks ago included this. Power has changed hands more times today than when this corporation was founded."
"I don't control the weather," I say.
"You might," she replies. "At this point, I wouldn't rule it out."
We head back upstairs.
By the time we reach our floor, email pings start rolling in. New sign-offs. New approval paths. Eric's name everywhere.
At ten-thirty, I'm called into a briefing room.
Not by Claire.
By Eric.
I pause outside the glass door, inhale once, and step in.
He's standing at the window, looking out over the city. Hands in his pockets.
"Ms. Dean," he says without turning. "Sit."
I do, folding my hands in my lap.
He faces me slowly. Studies me like I'm a problem he hasn't decided how to solve yet.
"You said you work closely with Damien," he says.
"I'm his assistant."
"From today till Damien returns."
I lift my chin. "With all due respect, sir, my responsibility is to Damien."
"Not today," he replies. "Today, and until Damien returns, you work with me."
I don't like how easily he says that.
"Why?" I ask.
"Because you see things," he says. "And because Damien chose you."
I look at him sharply. This feels personal.
"That doesn't mean I know where he is or what he's doing," I say.
"I'm not asking where he is," Eric replies. "I'm asking what he was becoming."
The question lands harder than I expect.
"I don't know what you mean," I say.
"I think you do."
Silence stretches.
He finally nods once. "You'll sit in on executive briefings this week."
"That's not in my contract," I say.
He smiles slightly. "Everything is in your contract if the person in the chair says it is."
I hold his gaze. "I don't work for you."
"You do today."
He steps past me and opens the door.
"Be ready in fifteen minutes."
And just like that, I'm dismissed.
Back on the floor, Harper is waiting.
"Tell me you didn't just get recruited into whatever that is," she says.
"I didn't," I reply.
She studies my face. "You're lying."
I don't answer.
The day unfolds differently after that.
Meetings move faster. Decisions don't linger. Eric doesn't deliberate the way Damien does.
He commands.
By afternoon, the building runs like a sharpened blade.
At four, I catch Eric watching the elevators the way someone watches a door they expect to open.
"Waiting for him," I say before I can stop myself.
He looks at me. Really looks.
"Yes," he says.
"And if he doesn't come back?" I ask quietly.
His jaw tightens. "Then this city loses more than a CEO."
I leave work as the sun drops low, painting the glass towers in orange and gold.
The city hums.
I step out of the building and walk toward the street to catch a cab home. My mind runs through the day's events, replaying words, glances, pauses.
And somewhere between the curb and the open door of the taxi, I let myself admit the truth I didn't want to name.
I miss Damien. Not the power.
Not the authority.
Not the shadow he casts over every room.
The steadiness.
The way the world felt like it had an axis when he was in it.
The cab pulls away, the city sliding past in streaks of light and glass and motion. My reflection flickers in the window, layered over everything else, like I'm already standing in two places at once.
Whatever Eric is shaping inside CrownWave, I can feel it settling into the walls.
And whatever Damien is running from—
I have a feeling it's running toward us instead