Page 123 of Ten Day Affair

"Give me two minutes to read it."

I pace behind my desk while she reviews. The silence stretches like a taut wire. Finally, she's back.

"Cole, this is textbook journalism strategy. They establish the story exists, get people talking, and create momentum. Then they follow up with the real details."

"How long do we have?"

"Hours. Maybe a day if we're lucky."

Dorian leans against the wall with his arms crossed. He's watching me like he's waiting for an explosion.

"What are our options?" I ask.

"Honestly? Very few. The worst thing you could do right now is issue statements or demand retractions. It draws more attention and makes you look guilty."

My free hand curls into a fist. I hate this. Hate waiting. Hate sitting here while someone else controls the narrative.

"So we do nothing?"

"You do nothing. Let them run their story. Most of these exposés burn out in forty-eight hours unless there's real criminal activity involved."

"What if they have sources? Inside sources?"

"Then you lawyer up properly and prepare for a longer fight. But we don't know if they have anything right now, so we wait."

The call ends. I swipe at the phone on my desk, and it crashes to the floor.

Dorian hasn't moved. "You're not going to take their advice, are you?"

I meet his eyes in the reflection of the window. The morning sun glints off the glass towers surrounding us, making everything look sharp and dangerous.

"I should."

"But?"

I turn around. The iPad still glows on my desk, the headline taunting me.

"I've never been good at sitting still while someone else holds the cards."

Dorian pushes off the wall. "Cole, if you do something stupid?—"

"Like what? Call the reporter? Demand she kill the story? I'm not that reckless."

But I might be reckless enough to fix this another way.

"We still have a narrow window to get ahead of this." Dorian paces in front of my desk, tablet still in hand.

I shake my head. "Then you haven’t seen the article the AP picked up. Harrelson's not bluffing. She’s coming with receipts, and she's not stopping."

Dorian exhales hard through his nose. "So, Houston Enterprises owns an LLC that bought a hospital you sat on the board of. That shit happens in M&A all the time. It’s complicated, not criminal. This blows over."

"I'm not worried about me."

He stops pacing. Looks up. "Then who?"

The answer hits before I say it.

Sam.