Page 132 of Alien War Daddy's Got Rizz
“I’m better than okay,” I say, and it’s true. “I’m steering a corporation back toward purpose. That’s not fragile. That’sstrategic.”
He lifts a brow, voice rough with amusement. “Somebody isn’t thrilled about ethics and people who can think for themselves.”
“No shit,” I mutter. “They liked it better when employees were liabilities to be monetized.”
“I wouldn’t market that in a press release,” he says dryly.
I laugh, because it’s ridiculous—except it isn’t.
And that’s when the second ping comes through.
Another message.
This one… closer.
Closer to truth.
Closer to threat.
Grau doesn’t flinch. But I do.
Not because I’m afraid.
But because I canfeelthe work I’ve done finally scratching at someone else’s vested interests. I thought the boardroom battles were the worst. I thought Tidball was the apex of hypocrisy and betrayal.
But now the grease stains on this machine are going to come for me.
I turn off the screen and look at Grau.
“Is this tangible?” I ask. “Can we trace it?”
He moves to my desk, thumbs already dancing over the comm pad.
“It’s anonymized,” he says. “But sloppy. Whoever it is wants us to see them—and wants us to think they know more than they do.”
I fold my arms across my chest. “Good. Then let’s show them we knowexactlywhat we’re made of.”
Grau leans back a beat, eyes softening like daytime turning into dusk.
“You’re not afraid.”
“No,” I say. “I’m not.”
Not of threats.
Not of shadows.
Not of the broken men who thought they could own me.
“I survived the worst,” I murmur. “Now I just deal with the timid.”
And that’s the truth.
Later that afternoon,I’m in a negotiation room with half a dozen suits pretending to be comfortable. They’re the board members and stakeholders who used to treat my presence like decorative velvet—pretty, but meaningless. They’ve been called in to discuss allocation revisions, oversight protocols, and equitable wage indices.
They shuffle papers.
They cough.
