Two weeks of distance felt like two years.
Nancy threw herself into work, organizing the gala, managing Adrian's impossible schedule, being the perfect assistant. Adrian cooperated with the charade, treating her with cool professionalism that broke her heart even as she requested it.
But at night, in the empty silence of her apartment, she allowed herself to remember. His hands. His voice. The way he'd looked at her like she was the answer to every question he'd ever asked.
"You're not eating," her roommate, Maya, observed on Friday night. "Or sleeping. Or doing anything except working and moping."
"I'm not moping." Nancy stirred her soup without appetite. "I'm being professional."
"You're being an idiot." Maya sat across from her, dark eyes serious. "That man is crazy about you. Anyone with eyes can see it. Why are you punishing both of you?"
"Because Sonia knows. Because the board is watching—did you see the email about 'professional conduct standards' that went out yesterday? Because I won't be the reason Adrian Thorne loses his company."
"And if he loses you instead?"
Nancy had no answer.
Monday brought disaster. Nancy arrived to find the office in chaos—lawyers in the conference room, grim-faced executives whispering in corners, Adrian's door closed with a "DO NOT DISTURB" sign that she'd never seen before.
"What's happening?" she asked Marcus, the IT director.
"Board investigation." Marcus looked grim. "Someone filed a complaint about inappropriate conduct. Thorne's being accused of favoritism, harassment, abuse of power." He lowered his voice. "They're saying he forced himself on an employee."
Nancy's world tilted. "That's a lie."
"Maybe. But the board takes these things seriously. There's evidence—photos, messages, hotel receipts."
Photos . Nancy thought of Sonia's phone, the angle of capture, the moment Adrian had touched her hand. Evidence .
She didn't think. She simply marched to the conference room and pushed open the door.
Six board members looked up, startled. Adrian sat at the far end, pale but composed, his lawyer beside him.
"Ms. Clark," the chairman, Mr. Whitmore, frowned. "This is a closed session."
"I know what this is about." Nancy's voice shook only slightly. "And I know who's lying to you. Sonia Van der Berg filed this complaint, didn't she?"
The board members exchanged glances. "We can't discuss—"
"She's obsessed with Adrian—Mr. Thorne. Has been since childhood. She's manufacturing evidence because he rejected her." Nancy pulled out her phone, pulling up her own evidence—months of emails, all professional, all timestamped, showing her dedication and competence. "I've worked for Mr. Thorne for three weeks. In that time, I've reorganized three departments, closed the Henderson deal, and increased efficiency by 40%. Does that sound like someone who needed to sleep her way to success?"
"Ms. Clark," Adrian's voice was warning and wonder combined. "You don't have to—"
"Yes, I do." She met his eyes. "Because the truth matters. Because I won't let him be destroyed for something he didn't do." She turned back to the board. "Whatever evidence you have, it's manipulated. Context removed, moments twisted. Mr. Thorne has been nothing but professional. The fault, if there is any, is mine."
"Nancy, stop." Adrian was on his feet. "Don't protect me."
"Someone has to." She smiled, bittersweet. "Isn't that what you said?"
The board chairman cleared his throat. "Ms. Clark, are you admitting to an inappropriate relationship with Mr. Thorne?"
"I'm admitting," Nancy said carefully, "that I have feelings for my employer. Feelings I've managed professionally. Feelings that have never interfered with my work or his." She lifted her chin. "If that disqualifies me from employment, so be it. But it doesn't make Adrian Thorne a predator. And it doesn't make Sonia Van der Berg anything other than a jealous woman with too much power and too little conscience."
The room fell silent. Adrian stared at her like he'd never seen her before—like she was magnificent and terrifying and his.
"Well," a voice came from the doorway. "That was quite a speech."
An elegant woman in her sixties entered, silver hair perfectly coiffed, eyes the same storm-gray as Adrian's. Eleanor Thorne, matriarch of the empire, surveyed the room with regal disdain.
"Mother," Adrian's voice was strained. "You shouldn't be here."
"Nonsense. When my son is accused of misconduct, I come." Eleanor's gaze settled on Nancy, sharp and assessing. "You must be the assistant. The one causing all this trouble."
"Mother—"
"Quiet, Adrian." Eleanor circled Nancy like a general inspecting troops. "You defended him. Publicly. Risked your career, your reputation. Why?"
"Because it was right," Nancy said simply. "Because he's good at his job, and kind beneath the arrogance, and doesn't deserve to be destroyed by lies."
"Kind?" Eleanor's eyebrow arched. "No one's called Adrian kind in years."
"Then they haven't been paying attention."
Eleanor studied her for a long moment. Then, unexpectedly, she smiled. "I see." She turned to the board. "Gentlemen, I believe we're done here. Ms. Clark's testimony is sufficient. As for the evidence..." She waved a hand. "My investigators have already traced it to Ms. Van der Berg's associates. Forged, manipulated, entirely discredited."
The board erupted in protests. Eleanor silenced them with a look.
"Furthermore," she continued, "I propose we offer Ms. Clark a position in our executive training program. Starting immediately. She clearly has the courage and integrity this company needs."
Nancy blinked. "What?"
"Adrian, walk Ms. Clark out. We have business to conclude." Eleanor's eyes twinkled. "And do try to be less obvious about your affections. You're embarrassing yourselves."