Page 12 of The Alpha's Crimson Vow (Eternal Oath Saga #2)

Katherine

Three Months Later

My foot taps gently under the long, polished boardroom table.. I keep my gaze fixed on the projector screen at the far end of the room, the glowing display of charts and financial projections doing nothing to calm the storm swirling inside me. Andrew, one of our directors, is standing next to the projector screen, stating some facts I know all too well. Facts I wish weren't real.

Lately, I’ve been quieter at these meetings—too quiet, maybe. But how am I supposed to speak freely when I’m sitting at the same table as people who might’ve had a hand in the attack on my life? Or worse, in my parents’ deaths? That kind of suspicion changes a person.

It makes you more… careful. Ever since James showed me that heartwrenching video, it’s like my mind won’t let it go. It replays over and over, every detail branded into my thoughts, no matter how much I want to change my focus.

James has been methodical. His theory is it’s likely whoever killed my parents wants me dead as well, and the common denominator is the power we hold in Pinnacle group. The conclusion is easy enough: Someone wants the position I now hold, the position my father held. James has drawn up a list of prime suspects.

Frank and Lawrence sit at the very top, but he’s made it clear we can’t make any assumptions yet. We can’t rule anyone out. It could be anyone sitting here at this very table. That thought alone makes my stomach churn.

But today, my silence isn’t just about the investigation. It’s not just about wondering which one of these people might’ve orchestrated an attempt on my life.

“With everything that’s been said, it’s clear we’re in a desperate position.” Andrew’s voice cuts through my thoughts like a knife through butter. He’s pacing now, his polished shoes clicking against the hardwood floors as he rounds the table. “Without a major injection of investment, and with things as they stand… Pinnacle Group may have no choice but to file for bankruptcy.”

The word hangs in the air like poison, seeping into the room and settling into the pit of my stomach.

Bankruptcy.

Not once during my father’s leadership did that word even graze this company. But now, here we are, staring down the barrel of something I never imagined would be possible. And it’s happening under my watch.

Andrew takes his seat again, his words echoing in my head. I want to respond, to argue, to offer some kind of reassurance—but I can’t. Because I know he’s right.

The Asian expansion. My expansion. My grand vision for this company’s future—the one thing that was supposed to solidify Pinnacle Group as a global powerhouse—is crumbling before my eyes. What should’ve been our crowning achievement is now the iceberg threatening to sink this entire ship.

And it’s all because of Frank.

Somehow, he managed to sabotage everything without even being obvious about it. He didn’t sign off on critical infrastructure costs we’d been working on with our partners. I don’t know how I missed it for as long as I did, but by the time I caught it, the damage was done.

Partners pulled out. Land purchases we’d been negotiating for months were suddenly snatched up by regional companies—or worse, priced astronomically higher than what we’d originally agreed on. Some of the prices have jumped to more than four times what we budgeted.

It’s like watching something I built with my own hands fall apart in slow motion. I threw everything into this plan—time, resources, my reputation. The potential was there, and it still is. But now, because of one stupid act of negligence, it’s slipping through my fingers.

I stare at the projector screen, the numbers and graphs blurring together. My chest tightens. All the figures point straight to a financial disaster. I can’t let that happen. I won’t.

But as I sit here, the reality looms larger than ever, and for the first time ever in my professional career, I feel utterly powerless.

The room is dead silent, and every pair of eyes is locked on me. Everyone’s waiting for me to say something—to pull some magic solution out of thin air. The company is sinking, and I’m supposed to be the one to save it.

“Gentlemen,” I begin, my voice steady, though it takes everything in me to keep it that way. “I understand that the situation we now find ourselves in is… difficult.” Understatement of the year. “As Andrew has stated, we need an injection of investment to stave off bankruptcy, and I will come up with a plan to get us the funds we need.”

The words leave my mouth with practiced professionalism, but the silence that follows is deafening. Their faces remain blank—stoic, motionless, cold. It’s like I’m speaking to a room full of statues. I can almost feel their doubt radiating toward me.

But they’ve seen me make them money before. That’s what they care about, right? Results. Dollars. Numbers on a page. I’ve proven I can do it, even if I have no idea how to pull us out of this mess.

Then, just as the silence stretches long enough to start choking me, Lawrence clears his throat. The sound slices through the tension, and every head in the room swivels toward him.

“Pinnacle Group has existed for one hundred and twenty two years,” he says, his tone measured, almost reverent. He lets the words settle. He’s setting up for something big, something calculated.

“And in all that time,” he continues, turning his gaze on me now, “we have never courted catastrophe the way we do now. These aren’t just difficult times. These are desperate times.”

The emphasis on those last words is like a dagger. My throat tightens as I swallow hard, forcing myself not to flinch under his pointed stare.

“And desperate times,” he says, drawing the phrase out like he’s savoring it, “call for desperate measures.”

Before I can say anything, he pulls out his phone. My brows furrow in confusion, but before I can ask what he’s doing, he presses a button and speaks into the receiver, his voice calm and decisive. “You can come in now.”

My brows furrow even more as I glance around the table. No one else seems surprised. They all sit there, calm and collected, like they knew this was coming.

The large double doors at the end of the boardroom glide open, and my breath catches in my throat.

Frank.

He strides into the room like he owns the place, his head held high, his expression calm and composed. It’s the first time I’ve seen him since I suspended him, the first time since the car crash. My stomach churns as James’s words echo in my head— Frank and Lawrence are prime suspects. And now it feels like I’m surrounded by every snake that wants to pump venom into my veins.

But I keep my composure. Barely.

“Your suspension hasn’t been lifted, Frank,” I say, my tone sharp, curt. My eyes lock on his.

He stops, his gaze steady as he looks at me. Then, without a word, he turns to Lawrence.

“In these desperate times, we need everyone on hand,” Lawrence says smoothly, his voice dripping with authority. “We cannot afford to have someone with Frank’s expertise and capabilities sitting on the sidelines when the very existence of the company is at stake.”

My jaw tightens. “Frank is the reason we have this problem to begin with,” I snap.

Lawrence inhales deeply, as though he’s summoning every ounce of patience he has. “Be that as it may,” he says slowly, “we need him.” He glances around the table, his gaze lingering on each of the other board members. “And the board agrees.”

I look around, my eyes scanning the faces of each of them. And I see it in their eyes—every single one of them is on his side. They’ve all decided this is the way forward, and I know that if I push back, I’ll be risking a mutiny.

Add to that the fact that someone in this room might be actively trying to get me killed, and my fear creeps higher.

So I say nothing.

Frank seizes the moment. “Now that that’s cleared up,” he says, his voice smooth and confident, “we need a solution to this mess of a situation caused by an expansion we never needed in the first place.” He turns to me as he says it, his gaze sharp, and I feel my anger bubbling just beneath the surface.

But I hold my nerve. Barely.

“In light of this,” he continues, “I propose we hold an event this weekend. A gala. We invite every person of importance we know—every politician, every businessman, every partner, every friend of Pinnacle Group. And we ask them to invest. To buy in. It’s the last chance we’ve got, and we just might save this company.”

The other board members nod along. It’s like they’ve collectively decided to forget that Frank is the reason we’re in this mess in the first place.

“Fine,” I say finally, rising from my seat. My voice is calm, but inside, I feel like a stranger in my own company. “That’s what we’ll do.”

I don’t wait for a response. I walk out of the boardroom and head straight to my office.

The wheels in my head turn as I go. For all of Frank’s faults, his suggestion might actually be the only shot we’ve got. Slim as it is, it’s something. A sliver of hope in the chaos.

I sink into my office chair, letting the familiar creak of the leather cushion swallow me. My desk is a mess—a clutter of reports, emails, contracts, and a to-do list that stretches far beyond what feels humanly possible. I try to lose myself in the work, but the reality looms over me.

No matter what I focus on, every number, every report, every email points to the same bleak outcome—bankruptcy.

Even the notifications I get on my phone from all the business news blogs are talking about it.

And then it gets worse, my mind betrays me, wandering where it always does these days—back to a time when everything felt simpler. It wasn’t even that long ago, but it might as well have been a lifetime. Back then, the expansion plan was my golden ticket, my vision for the future of Pinnacle Group.

I had the board somewhat in check, the family elders weren’t breathing down my neck as much, and I wasn’t checking over my shoulder every five seconds, wondering if someone was plotting to end my life.

And then there was Alex. I think of the dinners we used to share in this very office, the easy conversation. It was the kind of relationship that made you believe everything would be okay, that you weren’t just running this race alone. And then, in one gut-wrenching instant, I found out he was using me all along, manipulating me like a pawn in some twisted game.

Now, the survival of my company feels like it’s teetering on the brink, my life is in danger, and my world is unraveling faster than I can catch it.

James’s advice rings in my ears. Be careful. Don’t get comfortable. Change up your routines. Sleep in hotels. Take a cab instead of driving. Make sure they can’t predict your movements. It’s exhausting living like this—always looking over my shoulder, always second guessing everything. But what choice do I have?

I shake my head, trying to shove the thoughts aside. Right now, none of that matters. All that matters is finding a way to save Pinnacle Group. This gala on the weekend—it’s a long shot, but it’s the only shot we’ve got. I have to make it work.

The soft clacking of my keyboard fills the room, a steady rhythm that almost soothes me. Almost. Until it’s interrupted by the sound of my office doorknob turning.

My fingers freeze mid-type, and my eyes dart to the door. My heart skips a beat as it swings open. There’s no knock. No warning. And then Uncle Lawrence strides in like he owns the place.

“Uncle Lawrence,” I say evenly, masking my surprise. “Forgot to knock?”

He doesn’t answer right away. He crosses the room with purposeful steps.. Without waiting for an invitation, he sinks into the chair across from me, his hands resting casually on the armrests.

For a moment, he just stares at me.

“I wanted to skip the pleasantries and get straight to the point, Katherine,” he finally says.

“Perfect,” I reply, leaning back slightly, keeping my tone neutral.

His eyes stay on me, unblinking. “If you can’t save Pinnacle Group from bankruptcy—if you don’t secure the investments we need at the gala—I will be leading a vote of no confidence against you.”

The words hit like a bomb going off in my chest. My vision blurs for a second as I try to process what he’s just said.

He doesn’t stop there. “You’ve seen the board. I think it’s fair to say your chances of surviving a no-confidence vote are… next to none.”

My teeth clench so tightly my jaw aches.

“And,” he continues, as if twisting the knife isn’t enough, “I can assure you there will be no objection from the family elders either.” He pauses, letting that sink in before delivering the final blow. “So, I came to let you know that if you fail to stave off bankruptcy by the end of the gala, it would be in your best interest to resign. At least that way, you can leave with some dignity intact. Frank will take over as CEO when you leave.”

My breathing quickens, and my temples throb with the force of the blood pounding through my veins. He’s going to push me out and hand everything over to Frank, the man who caused this disaster in the first place.

Lawrence stands, his message delivered. He turns and starts toward the door, his back to me.

And something in me snaps.

I shoot to my feet, my chair scraping against the floor as I call out, “This situation was brought on by Frank! Frank stole from this company, and you know it. The board knows it. And you’d let him lead the company through the mess he created?”

Lawrence stops in his tracks but doesn’t turn to face me. His voice is calm, almost patronizing, as he says, “The board tolerated you because you made them very wealthy. But now, under your leadership, they’re staring down a financial disaster. The threat of bankruptcy is a failure on your part.”

He starts walking again, his footsteps echoing in the room.

My heart thunders in my chest, my composure unraveling completely. “You’ve always hated me!” The words burst out before I can stop them, my voice shaking with frustration and hurt. Lawrence halts again, this time slowly, and I keep going, my words tumbling out in a rush. “Why? What did I ever do to you?”

He turns now, his eyes scanning me with an expression I can barely describe. There’s no sympathy, no remorse—just cold nothingness..

“Good luck this weekend, Katherine,” he says, his voice dripping with finality.

And then he’s gone, the door clicking shut behind him.

My chest rises and falls quickly, my breath short and shallow. The sheer meaning of his words sits heavy in the room, pressing down on me like an unbearable force. My mind races, spinning out of control as the full gravity of the situation crashes over me.

The gala this weekend—it was already important. It was already a desperate, last-ditch effort to keep Pinnacle Group afloat. But now? Now it’s everything. It’s the tipping point between survival and ruin, not just for the company, but for me.

The stakes aren’t just high; they’re colossal.

This company isn’t just some name on a building to me. It’s my father’s legacy. And now it’s my legacy. I’ve poured every ounce of myself into Pinnacle Group—my time, my energy, my ambition. Everything.

And I’ll be damned if I let Lawrence—or anyone else—rip it out of my hands.

The gala isn’t just a lifeline anymore—it’s my battlefield. And I’ll fight like hell to win.