Elena stood at the window of her office, arms crossed tightly over her chest as she watched the headlines spread across the city skyline in glowing digital billboards: "Heiress CEO Sparks Investor Concerns with Impulsive Decisions." The words might as well have been knives.
She hadn't even left the building all day. The backlash had been swift-sparked by an internal memo accidentally leaked to the press. It wasn't her exact wording, but the media didn't care. They twisted it to sound like she doubted the company's future. Investors panicked. The board smelled blood. And now Roth Industries was trending for all the wrong reasons.
A soft knock broke the tense silence.
"Come in," she said sharply, expecting Sophie or PR.
But it was Liam.
He stepped in quietly, not in his usual hoodie and jeans but in an isp shirt and tailored slacks. She blinked at the unexpected change, over the jar was the look in his eyes. No pity. Not judgment. I just understand. I saw the memo," he said, holding a tablet with the headline still glowing.
She turned back to the window. "Let me guess. You came to suggest a technical way to scrub it from the internet?"
"No." He walked a few steps closer. "I came because I know what it's like to have the world take one thing you said and spin it into something you're not."
Her shoulders stiffened. "I'm not looking for sympathy."
"It's not sympathy." He paused. "It's solidarity."
That made her glance at him.
"You once said perception is reality. And right now, they think you're cracking under pressure," he continued, voice calm. "But the truth is you held this place together when the servers crashed, when the board doubted you, and when your father's death nearly paralyzed the company."
Elena's lips parted, but no words came. For once, she didn't have a sharp retort.
"People need to be reminded who you are. So let me help." He placed a small USB on her desk. "It's a clean PR counter-campaign. Anonymous user testimonials. Employee loyalty stats. Timeline overlays that prove your recent decisions saved over a million in infrastructure. You can launch it whenever you're ready."
She stared at the USB. "You did this… without being asked?"
He gave a faint shrug. "I don't like watching good people get torn apart."
The room was silent again but the tension had changed. It wasn't suffocating anymore.
"Thank you," she said, her voice softer than she intended.
Liam turned to leave but hesitated at the door. "And Elena?"
She looked up.
"You're allowed to break… just not alone."
Then he was gone.
For a long moment, she just stood there, staring at the closed door. Then she walked over to her desk, picked up the USB, and slid it into her laptop. As the campaign files loaded, her eyes stayed fixed on the screen but her thoughts lingered on the man who had quietly reminded her that vulnerability didn't always mean weakness.
Sometimes, it meant trust.