Page 75 of Alien War Daddy's Got Rizz
Because when suspicion becomesweaponized,
you don’t bow to it.
Youexposeit.
And I will.
Even if it destroys me.
Even if everyone I thought I could trust turns on me.
Even if the man who brought me comfort — the one person in this world who feels like home — is accused, misunderstood, caught in the crossfire of whispers and lies…
I will stand.
And I will fight.
Because this company — my legacy — is not a house of cards.
And I refuse to watch it collapse.
Not today.
Not now.
Not ever.
The first thingI notice when he steps into my office — just him, silent, weight heavy as stormclouds — is the cut-glass scent of rain and ozone on his skin. It’s not his usual scent, but something raw and electric, like the moment before a fracture becomes a crack. The hairs on my arms rise — a sensory alarm system that’s never wrong — and I know this conversation won’t be safe.
Not at all.
“I need answers,” I say before he can speak a single word.
He doesn’t take a seat. He never takes a seat when he’s tense. He stands, a tower in the dim afternoon light, ribs filling with shadow and sun-bleached gold.
His eyes lock on mine — red embers under a calm surface — but there’s something missing: that spark of connection we used to share. Instead, there’s a cool reserve, like water held back by ice.
“I’m listening,” he says, voice low — steady, deliberate, unshakable.
I take a breath — slow, measured — because the words on the tip of my tongue could ignite the air between us.
“You hid things from me,” I begin, keeping my tone calm, but my heart thundering like a piston in my chest. “Not just about the corporate attacks, or — or the evidence you’ve been gathering. I meaneverything else.”
His jaw doesn’t twitch.
He doesn’t blink.
He knows exactly what I’m talking about.
And he doesn’t deny it.
I can feel every molecule in this room constricting around me — the smooth wood of the desk beneath my palms, the faint hum of the ventilation system, the distant mutter of elevator cars racing up and down the tower outside.
I watch him out of the corner of my eye.
“That’s a broad accusation,” he says.
A broad accusation doesn’t begin to cover what I feel.
