Page 15 of Falling for Mr. Ruthless (The Rules We Break #1)

"There is no compromise." I cut him off, voice like ice. "You keep Ms. Warren on the audit. Period. Or I burn it all down."

I mean every word. They know it. I can see it in their faces—the calculation, the fear, the dawning realization that they've miscalculated badly.

Wilton breaks first. “We’ll need to deliberate further." He looks at Chanel. "In the meantime, perhaps a temporary leave of absence?—"

Chanel cuts him off. "No. I will continue leading this audit as scheduled. Or I walk. Not just from Novare, but from RSV entirely."

It's her line in the sand, drawn without consulting me, with no need for my protection.

Pride stirs in my chest as I watch the woman I've always known emerge under pressure. Unflinching when it matters.

Wilton looks between us, trapped between competing threats.

"Twenty-four hours," he says finally. “We need twenty-four hours to review the security concerns."

"Close of business. Today," I counter. "The White Glove Pivot won't wait."

He nods once, conceding. "You’ll have our response by five."

"Fine." Chanel picks up her portfolio. "If that's all?"

She doesn't wait for an answer, just walks out. I follow, not bothering with pleasantries.

In the hallway, she stops, turning to face me with contained fury.

"Don't ever do that again."

"Do what?"

"Step in. Take over. Make decisions about my career without consulting me."

"I didn't?—"

"You did." Her voice is low but intense. "You threatened RSV, forcing their hand. You made it look like I need your protection."

"You don't need my protection." I step closer, lowering my voice to match hers. "But you do need allies. And right now, I'm the only one you've got."

Chanel stands fuming, but knows I'm right—even if she hates it.

I continue walking, calculating my next steps, the weight of what just happened settling between my shoulders. We stop in front of the elevator.

"I was handling it," she says.

"By resigning? That's not handling it, Chanel. That's running."

The words hit harder than I intended. Her eyes widen slightly, then narrow.

"I don't run."

"Then don't start now." I soften my tone, aware we're still in enemy territory. "The security breach is real. Someone is targeting you specifically. And now they're escalating. Taking it public."

She studies me for a long moment, something shifting in her expression. When she speaks again, her voice is quieter.

"Who was that in there?"

"What do you mean?"

"That version of you." Her eyes search mine. “I’ve never seen that man before."

I hold her gaze, understanding what she's asking. The darkness I’ve learned to hide. My father’s son.

"That's the man who built Novare," I say finally. "The man I never wanted you to see."

Something passes across her face—not fear, exactly. Something more complex. "Why?"

"Because he's not the man you married. He's the one I kept leashed. The one who would have scared you. The one who still might."

She doesn't respond immediately, just studies me with those perceptive eyes that always see too much.

“Do you still think this is Megan? What are we going to do about it?”

I glance around—the hallway is empty, but glass walls make privacy an illusion.

"Not here."

She follows my gaze, understanding immediately. "Your office. One hour."

"The penthouse," I counter. "After close. This conversation needs to happen away from corporate eyes."

She hesitates, weighing options and the risks. "Fine. Seven o'clock."

"I'll send a car."

"I'll drive myself."

I don't argue. Some battles aren't worth fighting. "Seven, then."

She nods once, then enters the elevator without looking back. I watch her go, the familiar ache settling in my chest—the weight of all we've become to each other.

Strangers with history. Allies without trust. Parents without partnership.

My phone vibrates. Collins: Security update. Need to see you ASAP.

I send a quick confirmation, then take a last look at Chanel as the doors slide closed before heading for the stairs. Whatever Collins found, it can't wait. The timeline is accelerating.

And I’m trying to outpace the truth I've buried—the one that could reveal the lie I told to set Chanel free. The one I know she’ll find unforgivable.

Tyson and Collins are waiting in my office, faces tight with the edge of men who hate delivering bad news.

"What did you find?" I ask, not bothering with preliminaries.

Collins hands me a tablet. "The access logs from last night. All tagged with Ms. Warren's credentials."

“Fuck!”

I scan the data, stomach tightening as I read through the log.

Files accessed. Permissions changed. Confidential data downloaded. All bearing Chanel's digital signature.

“Yeah. But we knew that already," Tyson adds.

"Yes, sir." Collins swipes to a new screen—a side-by-side comparison of access behaviors. "Except now the new entries are scattered, opportunistic. Almost random."

Unease crawls up my spine. The more I study the patterns, the more convinced I become. This isn't careful mimicry anymore. This is blatant and reckless.

Tyson shakes his head. “Or someone who doesn't care if we notice the difference."

I look up at that. "Meaning?"

"Meaning this isn't just about access anymore. It's about sending a message." He hesitates. "There's more."

Collins takes the tablet, pulls up another file. A series of emails sent from Chanel's account to an external address—one I recognize immediately.

Margana Ardano.

Megan.

Red burns the edges of my vision.

“When were these sent?"

"Between 2 a.m. and 4 a.m. While both you and Ms. Warren were asleep."

The content is damning—audit details, internal assessments, confidential data points. Nothing critical, but enough to suggest corporate espionage. Enough to end Chanel's career if made public.

"She's getting bolder." I set the tablet down, anger rising like a tide. "Sloppier."

"Or more desperate," Tyson adds.

We share a look that doesn't need words. We both know what this means. Megan isn't trying to hide anymore. She's forcing a confrontation.

Collins clears his throat. "Sir, there's one more thing. The photo leak—it didn't come from inside our network. It came from Ms. Warren's phone."

The implications land like a physical blow. “How and the fuck did she hack Chanel’s phone?"

"Remote access. Probably activated when she connected to our network."

I absorb this, calculating my response, ready for this threat to end. If she can access her phone, they can access everything—emails, texts, photos. Her entire digital life exposed.

Including Jaden.

The thought sends ice through my veins.

"Lock down all her access points. New credentials, new devices, new protocols. And increase security at her house."

"Already done, sir. But?—"

"But what?"

Collins hesitates, weighing his words. "Whoever's doing this... they're not just after data. They're after her. Specifically."

I already know this. Have known it since the first breach. This is personal—a vendetta wrapped in corporate sabotage.

"Find her,” I say, voice hardening with resolve. "Whatever it takes."

He nods once, understanding the weight behind my words. "Yes, sir."

After he leaves, I stand at the window, looking out at the city below. Manhattan spreads in all directions. Somewhere in that sprawl, Megan is moving pieces against us. Setting a trap.

For Chanel. For me. For the life we once shared.

Tyson moves to stand beside me, his reflection in the glass somber. "You need to tell her."

"Tell her what?"

"Everything." His voice drops lower. "The reason for the divorce. Megan's threats. All of it.”

I try to ignore the weight of guilt pressing against my chest.

"She deserves to know what she's up against, Jake," he continues. "Especially now."

"I know."

"Then why keep hiding it? It's been four years."

"Because some truths can't be undone," I say quietly. "Some choices can't be taken back."

He studies me for a long moment. "She's stronger than you think."

"It's not about strength." I turn to face him. "It's about protection."

"Is it?" He raises an eyebrow. "Or is it about control?"

The question hits home.

Control. The thing I've clung to. The thing I've used to justify every decision I've made since the day Megan threatened Chanel.

It’s not malicious—just me wanting to shield them from my choices and my life.

"I'll tell her," I say finally. "Soon."

He nods, satisfied for now, and heads for the door. "I'll check with Collins on the security protocols."

After he leaves, I'm alone with the burden of what's coming. My phone buzzes—a message from Chanel.

I’ll be there tonight. I need answers, not excuses.

No pleasantries. No softness. Just determination and the implied threat that this is her last concession.

I type back: I'll be waiting.

Then I set the phone down and return to the window, decision solidifying in my chest. Tonight, I'll give her some of the truth. Enough to keep her safe. Enough to keep her close.

But not all of it. Never all of it.

I look down at my phone again. The family photos stare back at me—Chanel laughing at the park, Jaden between us, my face unguarded in a way I've never allowed myself to see.

I touch her image on the screen, the glass hard and unforgiving beneath my finger.

For one moment—just one—I let myself feel the full impact of what protecting her has cost. What it's still costing. The grief of losing her. The emptiness of the life I've built without her.

Then I lock the phone, lock the feeling away, and turn back to the work of keeping her safe.

Even if she hates me for it. Even if she never forgives me.

Even if it means I'll always be the villain in the story of us.

I check my watch. Jaden's karate class ends in forty minutes. I need to be the father who shows up, who remembers, who doesn't let work consume everything.

Maybe the one piece of us I haven't broken beyond repair.

I grab my keys as I step into the elevator. I wonder if Chanel's looking at those same photos right now. If she sees what I couldn't hide—the raw truth that four years, a divorce, and a life of dark decisions couldn't bury.

I still look at her like she's the only light in a world gone dark.

And tonight, when she comes to the penthouse demanding answers, I'll have to decide how much of that darkness to let her see.