Jenna's POV
I didn't sleep.
Couldn't sleep.
Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Kieran's face. The cold fury in his amber eyes. The way he'd said I own you like it was a simple fact instead of a threat.
Maya had called six times. I'd ignored every call.
What could I tell her? That the man whose heart I'd shattered now held my entire future in his hands? That I had no idea what he wanted but knew it would hurt?
At 8:45 AM, I was back in the Ashford Industries lobby, dressed in another armor of expensive fabric and borrowed confidence.
Sarah met me at the executive elevators with a tight smile. Mr. Ashford is waiting in Conference Room B. He has... company this morning.
Something in her tone made my stomach drop. Company?
His executive team. He thought it would be beneficial for them to understand the Morrison Marketing situation.
Oh God.
He was going to humiliate me in front of witnesses.
The elevator ride to the fifty-second floor felt like riding to my execution. Again.
Sarah led me to a different conference room—larger than yesterday's, with at least fifteen people already seated around the massive table.
And at the head of the table, Kieran sat watching me with those cold, calculating eyes.
Ms. Morrison. He gestured to the empty chair at the opposite end. Please, join us. We've been waiting.
I forced my legs to carry me to that chair, very aware that every person in the room was assessing me, judging me, wondering who I was and why their CEO looked at me like I was a problem to solve.
Everyone, Kieran said, his voice carrying effortlessly across the room, this is Jenna Morrison, owner and CEO of Morrison Marketing. Or rather, former owner. As of last week, Morrison Marketing became part of the Ashford Industries portfolio.
Several executives exchanged glances. One woman leaned over to whisper to the man beside her.
Ms. Morrison and I have a history, Kieran continued, and my blood ran cold. Surely he wouldn't—We were acquainted years ago. Before she decided to pursue other opportunities.
The careful phrasing said everything and nothing. But the way he looked at me told everyone in the room that our history was complicated and painful.
Now, Kieran pulled up a presentation on the massive screen behind him, let's discuss the terms of Morrison Marketing's integration into Ashford Industries.
My heart hammered as numbers filled the screen.
Current revenue: $340,000 quarterly.
Target revenue: $1,020,000 quarterly.
Timeline: Six months.
The room went silent.
Triple revenue in six months? I heard myself say. That's impossible.
Is it? Kieran's smile was sharp. You're a talented marketer, Ms. Morrison. Surely you can market your own services effectively.
Not without significant capital investment, expanded team, infrastructure—
All of which Ashford Industries could provide. He paused. But won't.
The trap closed around me with crystal clarity.
You'll have access to our name for credibility purposes, Kieran continued, clicking to the next slide. But no financial support. No shared resources. No team expansion. You'll achieve this growth with your current staff and budget.
That's not a business plan, I said, anger finally cutting through fear. That's sabotage.
That's motivation. His eyes locked on mine across the long table. You have six months, Ms. Morrison. Triple your revenue, or Morrison Marketing will be liquidated. Assets sold. Client list distributed to competitors. Your five employees will be let go with standard severance.
He was going to destroy everything. Not quickly—slowly, publicly, while I worked myself to death trying to meet impossible goals.
It was perfect revenge.
Why? The question burst out before I could stop it. Why do this? If you want me to suffer, fine. I deserve it. But my employees don't. They've done nothing wrong.
Kieran stood slowly, and the entire room seemed to hold its breath.
You want to know why? His voice was quiet, deadly. You stood in a cathedral five years ago, surrounded by everyone I knew, and you walked away. No explanation. No goodbye. You disappeared like I meant nothing.
The conference room had gone completely silent. Every executive was staring at us, the professional meeting dissolving into something personal and raw.
Do you have any idea what that did to me? Kieran continued, and I heard the pain beneath the anger. The not knowing? Wondering if you were alive, if you were hurt, if I'd done something so terrible you couldn't even tell me?
Kieran My voice broke on his name.
You don't get to ask me questions, Jenna. His eyes were ice and fire. You lost that right five years ago when you left me at the altar.
The gasps around the table confirmed what I'd suspected—he'd just exposed our history to his entire executive team.
Left him at the altar. The words hung in the air like an accusation.
Now everyone knew. Knew I was the woman who'd destroyed Kieran Ashford. The villain in our story.
So yes, Kieran said, voice controlled again, you'll work. You'll fight. You'll try desperately to save your company. And maybe, if you're very lucky, you'll succeed. But I'm not counting on it.
He turned to his executives. Any questions about the Morrison Marketing acquisition?
Dead silence. Nobody wanted to be dragged into whatever was happening between Kieran and me.
Good. Ms. Morrison will provide weekly progress reports directly to me. This meeting is adjourned.
Executives fled the room like it was on fire, desperate to escape the tension.
I stayed seated, unable to move, staring at the impossible numbers on the screen.
The room emptied until it was just Kieran and me.
Six months, I said quietly. And if I actually succeed? If I somehow triple my revenue?
Then Morrison Marketing continues operating as an Ashford Industries subsidiary. Under my control.
So I lose either way.
Yes. He started gathering his materials. You do. Just like I lost five years ago.
I'm sorry. The words felt pathetic, useless. I know you don't believe me, but I'm sorry for everything.
Sorry doesn't change anything.
The conference room door opened before I could respond.
A woman walked in—tall, elegant, with perfect black hair and a designer dress that screamed money. She moved with the confidence of someone who belonged in Kieran's world.
Darling, she said, going straight to Kieran and placing a possessive hand on his arm. I thought your meeting would be finished by now. We have lunch reservations in twenty minutes.
Darling.
The casual endearment hit me like a physical blow.
Victoria. Kieran's voice softened fractionally—not much, but enough that I noticed. This is Jenna Morrison. She's handling the Morrison Marketing acquisition.
Victoria's eyes swept over me with cool assessment. Ah yes, Morrison Marketing. The little Brooklyn firm. Her smile was polite, but her eyes were calculating. Kieran mentioned the acquisition. Such a small company, but he has a gift for seeing potential in underperforming assets.
The insult was wrapped in politeness, but I heard it clearly.
She turned back to Kieran, and I watched her hand tighten possessively on his arm. Watched the way she looked at him like he belonged to her.
We should go, darling. You know how impossible it is to get a table at Le Bernardin.
Of course. Kieran looked at me, his expression unreadable. Ms. Morrison, I'll expect your first progress report next Monday. Nine AM. Don't be late.
Victoria finally seemed to notice the tension in the room. Her eyes sharpened, moving between Kieran and me.
Have you two met before? she asked carefully.
Briefly, Kieran said. Years ago.
The lie was smooth, practiced. Like our three years together, our engagement, our almost-wedding meant nothing.
Maybe to him, they didn't anymore.
Victoria smiled, satisfied. Well, it's lovely to meet you, Ms. Morrison. I'm sure you'll do wonderful work under Kieran's guidance. He's very good at taking broken things and making them valuable again.
Broken things.
Was that what I was? What we were?
Come on, darling. Victoria tugged Kieran toward the door. We're going to be late.
He let her lead him away, not looking back.
The door closed behind them, and I sat alone in that massive conference room.
He'd moved on. Found someone beautiful and sophisticated who fit his world. Someone who wouldn't leave him. Wouldn't break his heart.
And I had six months to achieve the impossible while reporting to the man I'd destroyed, watching him build a life with someone else.
My phone buzzed. A calendar reminder from Sarah:
Weekly progress report: Every Monday, 9 AM, Conference Room B. Bring updated revenue figures, client acquisitions, and growth projections. Mr. Ashford requires detailed breakdowns.
Another notification popped up:
Mandatory attendance: Ashford Industries Charity Gala, Friday 9 PM. Business formal. You are permitted one guest.
In three days, I'd have to stand in a room full of Manhattan's elite and watch Kieran with Victoria. Watch him smile at her, touch her, be the man he used to be with me.
I gathered my things with shaking hands and left the conference room.
The elevator ride down felt endless. Fifty-two floors of understanding exactly how trapped I was.
Kieran owned my company. Controlled my future. And every week, I'd have to walk into his office and report on my progress toward impossible goals while he built a life with someone else.
This was his revenge.
Not quick destruction—slow torture.
Making me watch everything I'd lost while losing everything I'd built.
I made it to the lobby before the tears started.
My phone rang. Maya's name flashed across the screen.
I answered with a shaking voice. Hey.
Jenna? What happened? You sound
Can you meet me? I interrupted. I need... I can't do this alone anymore.
Where are you?
Ashford Industries. I just, Maya, he's going to destroy me. Slowly. Publicly. And I deserve it. I deserve all of it, but I don't know how to
Stay there. I'm coming.
She hung up.
I collapsed onto a lobby bench, clutching my briefcase, surrounded by executives rushing past on their way to meetings and lunches and normal lives.
While mine fell apart for the second time in five years.
And this time, I had no one to blame but myself.
My phone buzzed with an email notification.
From: [email protected] Subject: Terms of Employment
Ms. Morrison,
Attached you'll find the formal contract outlining your obligations over the next six months. I suggest you read it carefully. Pay particular attention to Section 7: Termination Conditions.
Your first progress report is due Monday. I expect detailed breakdowns of:- Current client status
- New business pipeline
- Revenue projections
- Strategic initiatives
Also, regarding the charity gala Friday evening—your attendance is mandatory. Consider it part of your obligations under the new corporate structure. Victoria is looking forward to meeting you properly.
Don't disappoint me.
-Kieran Ashford
CEO, Ashford Industries
The formal signature. The cold tone. The reminder that his girlfriend was looking forward to meeting me.
Every word was designed to cut.
And they succeeded.
I pulled up the attached contract with shaking hands.
Section 7: Termination Conditions.
Failure to meet quarterly revenue targets will result in immediate liquidation of Morrison Marketing. All assets, including client contracts, intellectual property, and employee agreements, will be distributed at the sole discretion of Ashford Industries.
The target may be adjusted at any time at the discretion of the CEO.
He could change the rules whenever he wanted. Make the impossible even more impossible.
This wasn't a business arrangement.
This was a prison sentence.
And I'd walked into it willingly, because the alternative was watching him destroy everything immediately instead of slowly.
Maya burst through the lobby doors, scanning the crowd until she found me.
Jenna! She rushed over, taking in my tear-stained face. Oh honey. Tell me everything.
So I did.
The impossible revenue targets. The weekly reports. The charity gala. Victoria calling him darling with her possessive hand on his arm.
The way Kieran had exposed our history to his executive team, making sure everyone knew I was the woman who'd left him at the altar.
He's destroying me, I finished, voice hollow. And the worst part is, I deserve it. Everything he said—he's right. I destroyed him first.
Maya grabbed my hands. Listen to me. Yes, you hurt him. Yes, leaving was a mistake. But you thought you were dying, Jenna. You were trying to protect him—
By lying? By running? I pulled away. I should have trusted him with the truth. Should have let him decide how to handle it. Instead, I made the choice for him and destroyed us both.
So tell him now. Tell him about Marcus, about the fake diagnosis—
He has a girlfriend! The words came out louder than intended, making nearby executives glance our way. I lowered my voice. He's moved on, Maya. And even if he hadn't—do you really think he'd believe me? That I left him because a doctor convinced me I was dying with fake test results? It sounds insane.
It sounds like the truth.
Truth doesn't matter anymore. I stood, gathering my briefcase. I have six months to save my company. That's all I can focus on right now. Not the past. Not Kieran. Just survival.
Maya looked at me with heartbreak in her eyes. You're still in love with him.
I didn't deny it. Couldn't deny it.
Doesn't matter, I said instead. He hates me. He has Victoria. And I have six months to achieve the impossible or lose everything.
What are you going to do?
I thought about the contract in my briefcase. The impossible numbers. The weekly meetings where I'd have to face Kieran and report my failures.
The charity gala where I'd watch him with another woman.
What choice do I have? I asked quietly. I work. I fight. I try to save the company I built and the employees who depend on me.
And Kieran?
My chest ached with everything I couldn't say. I survive him. The same way I've been surviving without him for five years.
Even though being near him again, seeing him, hearing his voice—it made me realize I'd been lying to myself all along.
I hadn't survived losing him.
I'd just learned to live with the pain.
And now that pain was going to be my constant companion for the next six months, while Kieran made sure I understood exactly how it felt when someone you love destroys you.
Come on, Maya said, linking her arm through mine. Let's get you home. You look like you haven't slept in days.
We headed for the exit, and I tried not to think about seeing Kieran again on Monday.
Tried not to think about the charity gala on Friday.
Tried not to think about Victoria's possessive hand on his arm or the way he'd let her lead him away without a backward glance.
My phone buzzed one more time.
A text from an unknown number:
Six months, Jenna. The clock is ticking. Make them count.
-K
I stared at the message, my heart breaking all over again.
Because even his revenge carried an echo of the intimacy we used to share.
And I didn't know which hurt more—his hatred or the fragments of what we used to be that still existed beneath it.