Page 13 of Falling for Mr. Ruthless

“Someone has.” He watches my face. “Using your authorization.”

The implication hangs between us. Either I’m lying, or someone has compromised my security credentials. Neither scenario reflects well on my leadership.

“My credentials have been misused.” I close the folder.

“That’s one possibility.” His tone suggests he’s considering others.

“It’s the only possibility.” I hand the folder back to him. “I suggest IT conduct a full security audit of credential usage patterns. They’ll find these don’t match my behavioral footprint.”

“Already underway.” He takes the folder, but doesn’t set it aside. “There’s also the matter of your… familiarity with Novare Global Strategies.”

My blood runs cold. “I’ve never worked with them before this audit.”

“Not professionally, perhaps.” His eyes lock onto mine. “But personally?”

Someone knows. Someone has connected Chanel Warren to Chanel Giannetti. The floor seems to tilt beneath me, but he’ll have to spill it—because I can do this all day.

“I’m not sure what you’re implying, Phillip.”

“I’m not implying anything.” He opens the folder again, removing a photograph. Then he slides it across the desk. “I’m asking about this.”

It’s a corporate event photo at least eight years old. Jakob and I were at a charity event, his hand on the small of my back, my face turned up toward his. We look young and in love.

I look at the photograph for exactly three seconds, then back at Phillip. “I was married to Jakob Giannetti. We divorced four years ago. We share a child. None of this affects my ability to conduct a thorough and objective audit of his company.”

To his credit, Phillip doesn’t look shocked. Just nods slowly, as if confirming a suspicion.

“Why wasn’t this disclosed?”

I meet his gaze directly. “I wasn’t aware that Novare Global Strategies would be our client until the assignment was made.”

“You could have recused yourself.”

“On what grounds?” I keep my voice level. “Our personal relationship ended years ago. We maintain a civil co-parenting arrangement. There’s no conflict of interest.”

“The partners see it differently.” He removes his glasses again, suddenly looking tired. “They’re considering reassigning the audit leadership.”

There it is. The real reason for this meeting. Not information gathering—notification. They’ve already decided.

“That would be a mistake.” I stand slowly, holding my composure. “I’m the most qualified person for this audit. My team is halfway through the document requests. A leadership change now would set the timeline back weeks.”

“It’s not about qualifications, Chanel.” His voice softens, which is worse than anger. “It’s about perception.”

“Perception can be managed. Numbers can’t. And numbers are what matter in an audit.”

“In an ideal world, perhaps.” He stands as well, signaling the end of the meeting. “But we don’t live in that world.”

“No.” I move toward the door. “We don’t.”

“The partners meet tomorrow morning.” He says it to my back. “I’ll do what I can.”

I don’t thank him. Don’t acknowledge the implied support. Just nod once and walk out, my racing heart.

In the elevator, I press the button for the ground floor instead of returning to my team. I need air. Space. A moment to process the fact that my career is being systematically dismantled by someone with access to both my past and Novare’s systems.

Four years at Rowe Stratton & Vale. Four years of rebuilding my life, piece by meticulous piece, after Jakob left.

RSV was the first real job I took after our divorce—the cornerstone of my new identity. I'd spent nights studying while Jaden slept, mornings practicing interview responses in the mirror, afternoons networking with trembling hands but a steady voice.