chapter 9
It began with a press leak.
One of Johnson Group’s R&D ventures had just secured a major patent, something that could double our annual revenue within a year. The announcement was scheduled for a joint press conference between our group and a foreign partner.
But twenty-four hours before the official reveal, a popular financial blog published detailed diagrams, valuation estimates, and even confidential staff memos.
The leak was precise. Calculated. Malicious.
Michael stormed into the boardroom with a printed copy of the article in his hand, his jaw clenched so tightly I thought he’d crack a tooth.
“This was supposed to be sealed under NDA until Friday,” he said through gritted teeth. “We just lost the element of surprise, and half our negotiation leverage.”
I scanned the article.
It was too detailed to be the work of a journalist with a source. This wasn’t just a tip-off.
It was a betrayal.
And I already had a suspect.
My eyes narrowed. “When’s the last time your cousin Matthew accessed the internal portal?”
Michael looked up sharply. “He requested clearance last week. Said he needed to prepare an audit report.”
“Did anyone approve that?”
Michael’s expression darkened.
“No,” he said.
Matthew Sullivan was a name that haunted most family meetings. He was the kind of man who shook your hand with a smile while thinking about what to steal from your other palm. Entitled, sharp-tongued, and constantly trying to prove he was more than just a second son in a dynasty that never fully embraced him.
He had always resented that the Sullivan family had chosen me to marry into the Johnson family. In his eyes, I was a woman playing dress-up in boardrooms, coasting on connections.
But I had worked for everything.
And now, he had crossed a line.
Michael called a closed-door meeting with our core legal and cybersecurity teams while I went to confront Matthew directly.
I found him in a golf simulator suite, sipping a martini at ten in the morning, dressed in a designer polo that practically screamed trust fund rebel.
“Lily,” he said with fake warmth. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
I shut the glass door behind me and held up a printed copy of the leak. “You tell me.”
He glanced at it and smirked.
“Nice formatting. Very sleek.”
“Don’t play dumb. The metadata on the files traced back to your employee login.”
“Hmm,” he said, swirling his drink. “That’s odd.”
“You’re going to deny it?”
“I’m going to say you’ve always been too ambitious for your own good,” he said, standing up slowly. “Maybe it’s time someone reminded you where you came from.”
I stared at him.
“You think exposing a confidential patent helps you?” I asked. “Johnson Group is the one securing Sullivan family assets. If this project tanks, the whole alliance does.”
He stepped closer, his voice cold. “Good. Maybe the Sullivan board will finally realize their golden daughter has been bleeding the family dry to build a legacy that isn’t hers.”
There it was.
The real reason.
Not money. Not power.
Pride.