The whisper of betrayal often begins behind closed doors.
Elena Rossi knew this. She had grown up in boardrooms, watching men who shook hands in public dismantle each other in private. Yet nothing could have prepared her for the sound of Alessia Romano's honeyed voice curling through the half-open door of the conference room.
"…she is emotional, fragile. Grief has clouded her judgment. If Rossi Textiles is to survive, perhaps we need someone more… steady."
Elena froze mid-step, her hand tightening around the portfolio she carried. Her heart pounded so loudly she was sure the men inside could hear it.
A director's voice replied in a low murmur. "You are suggesting…?"
"I'm suggesting Dante Moretti is capable. He is proven. Elena is… dramatic. Do you really want your investments tied to a woman who lets her temper write the headlines?"
Alessia's laugh was soft, calculated.
Something in Elena snapped.
She pushed the door open so hard it smacked against the wall, making the men inside jump. "If you have something to say about me, Alessia, perhaps you should find the courage to say it to my face."
The room went deathly quiet.
Alessia turned slowly, her expression the picture of innocence. "Elena. I did not see you there."
Elena stepped forward, fire blazing in her eyes. "Do not play coy. I heard every poisoned word."
The directors shifted uncomfortably in their seats. One cleared his throat. "Ladies….."
"Do not 'ladies' me," Elena cut in. "You want steady leadership? Then remember this. My father built this company with his bare hands while you were still polishing your cufflinks. And I am his daughter. If you think I will let a gossiping socialite whisper me out of my inheritance, you are gravely mistaken."
Gasps rippled through the room. Alessia smiled faintly, her trap closing. "Careful, Elena. Temper is not attractive in a leader. You would not want the press catching it again, would you?"
Elena's jaw tightened. She could see the headlines already. Alessia had orchestrated this perfectly.
---
Later that afternoon
Elena stormed through the marble lobby of Rossi headquarters, her heels striking like war drums. Employees ducked their heads as she passed, the storm radiating off her impossible to ignore.
But anger was not her only problem.
"CEO Rossi!"
The voice came through the crowd of workers gathered near the front desk. Elena turned just in time to see a middle-aged man, an assembly line worker she vaguely recognized pushed through security and rushed toward her.
"You promised wages!" His face was red with fury. "My children have not eaten properly in a week while you sit in your glass tower!"
"Signore, calm down….." Elena began, but he was already lunging.
It happened fast. His hand clamped on her arm, shaking her hard enough to bruise. Security reacted, but before they could reach her, another figure moved like lightning.
Dante.
One moment he was across the lobby, the next his hand locked around the worker's wrist, prying him off with a strength that was all the more frightening for its control.
"That is enough," Dante's voice cut through the chaos like steel. "She is not your enemy."
The worker's fury faltered under Dante's glare. Security dragged him back as he spat curses, but the damage was done. Elena's arm stung where he had grabbed her, red marks blooming against her pale skin.
"Are you hurt?" Dante's voice was suddenly softer, almost unrecognizable.
Elena wanted to brush him off, to stand tall and unbroken. But when she tried to pull her arm back, pain shot up to her shoulder. She hissed despite herself.
Dante did not ask permission. He guided her toward the nearest private office, closing the door firmly behind them.
"Sit," he ordered, his usual composure fraying just enough to sound like concern.
"I'm fine," Elena muttered, though her knees trembled.
"You are not." He rolled up his sleeves, crossed to the cabinet, and returned with a first-aid kit. His movements were precise, efficient, yet when he knelt before her and gently took her arm, his touch was disarmingly careful.
The moment his fingers brushed her bare skin, Elena's breath caught. Heat shot through her veins in a way that had nothing to do with the bruise.
Dante cleaned the reddened flesh with practiced ease. "You should have been more careful."
Her eyes flashed. "Are you blaming me for being attacked?"
"I'm saying you put yourself in the fire without armor." His gaze flicked up to hers, softer now. "And I cannot always get there fast enough."
The words disarmed her more than the attack. She stared at him, the man who wore arrogance like armor, now crouched at her feet tending to her like she was something fragile.
What are you doing to me, Dante? Why do you always stand between me and the flames, only to turn cold the moment I think I see the truth?
She pulled her arm back, breaking the spell. "Do not confuse protection with control. I do not need either one."
For a heartbeat, silence hung heavy between them. Then Dante straightened, the mask sliding back into place. "As you wish."
But the look in his eyes lingered something unspoken, almost tender.
---
That evening
Elena's office glowed with lamplight as she scrolled through her phone.
Every outlet had picked it up.
CEO in Heels Loses Temper – Unfit for Rossi Leadership?
The video clip of her explosion at Alessia played on repeat: Elena, furious and sharp-tongued, Alessia calm and serene. Exactly the image Alessia had wanted the world to see.
Her thoughts burned bitter inside her.
They see weakness. They see a woman unraveling under pressure. Every headline Alessia engineers, every whisper she plants, it's a rope tightening around my neck. And still…still…I refuse to bow. Because if I let them define me, Rossi dies. And if Rossi dies, so does my father's legacy.
Her phone buzzed again. This time, a text from Sofia.
"I warned you about Alessia. She will not stop until you are broken."
Elena typed back with trembling fingers.
" Then she will have to try harder."
Elena leaned back in her chair, exhaustion dragging at her bones. She closed her eyes for a moment only to hear Sofia's voice echoing in her head.
"She will not stop until you are broken."
Elena opened her eyes to see the newspaper on her desk, the headline glaring back at her.
CEO in Heels Loses Temper – Unfit for Rossi Leadership?
And beneath it, a smaller caption that made her blood run cold:
"Sources claim board already seeking alternatives."