Chapter Two

Caiden

There were three kinds of CEOs. The first inherited companies they mistook for achievements. The second built businesses and never let anyone forget it. The third built businesses and let the numbers speak for themselves.

Sienna Brooks fascinated me because she belonged to the second category, yet had all the potential to become the third. Unfortunately, she was too busy fighting ghosts. I watched her from across the conference table as the board settled into its seats. She looked composed but she wasn't.

It was in the way her fingers tapped once against her portfolio before becoming perfectly still. The subtle tightening of her jaw every time someone from Weston Capital spoke. The way her shoulders remained square, almost defiant, as though she expected an attack at any moment. Defensive. Before anyone had even opened a presentation. Interesting.

When I offered my hand, she ignored it. Not because she lacked manners, but because she wanted to make a point. I almost smiled. I'd met people like her before. Founders who'd clawed their way to the top and convinced themselves every suggestion was an attempt to steal what they'd built. They mistook collaboration for surrender. Advice for criticism. Experience for arrogance.

Exhausting.

Still, there was something undeniably impressive about her. BrooksWell wasn't luck.

You didn't grow a company that quickly through stubbornness alone. She was intelligent. Driven. Disciplined. She simply carried those qualities like armor instead of tools.

The chairman welcomed everyone before inviting Sienna to begin. She stood. No notes. No hesitation. The lights dimmed as her presentation filled the screen behind her.

For the next twenty minutes, she owned the room.

Revenue growth. User retention. Expansion forecasts. Market projections. Every statistic was committed to memory. Every answer came effortlessly.

By the time she finished, even the most skeptical members of our investment committee were paying attention. I found myself impressed. Not surprised.

Just impressed barely though. Then, she reached the intellectual property slide.There it was. The problem.

She proposed licensing one of BrooksWell's core algorithms to a European partner before our investment had officially closed. A clever business move but a disastrous legal one.

I let her finish. The room applauded politely. The chairman looked pleased. "So," he said. "Questions?"

I raised a finger. Not dramatically, but simply enough to be acknowledged. The room quieted. Sienna looked at me with an expression that suggested she'd rather be anywhere else.

"Mr. Wyatt."

I stood. "If BrooksWell licenses its adaptive algorithm before finalizing the investment, who retains ownership of derivative improvements developed overseas?"

Silence. A few board members frowned.Sienna blinked once. "Excuse me?"

"The licensing proposal." I kept my tone calm.

"Section twelve."

She glanced toward the slide behind her.

"The European developers."

"They would own improvements they independently create."

"Under whose intellectual property laws?"

Another pause. I watched her think.

Fast. Very fast. Then I saw it. The realization.

"...European Union statutes."

"Correct." I folded my hands behind my back. "And if those improvements become essential to your platform?"

She didn't answer. Because she knew. Licensing today could cost her control tomorrow.

The room shifted. Someone quietly whispered to another board member. The chairman leaned forward."I hadn't considered that." Neither had anyone else. Sienna looked at me. Not with gratitude. With irritation. As though I'd embarrassed her instead of preventing a multimillion-dollar mistake.

There it is. Exactly what I expected. Meeting adjourned thirty minutes later. Our investment committee remained behind to exchange a few notes while BrooksWell's board filtered into the hallway. I gathered my files.

"Mr. Wyatt." Her voice. Sharp and ontrolled. I looked up. She stood in the doorway waiting. "Would you mind?"

I excused myself and followed her into an empty conference room across the hall. The door clicked shut behind us. She crossed her arms. "I had that presentation reviewed by three legal teams."

"I'm aware."

"Then why undermine me in front of my own board?"

"There it is."

Her eyebrows drew together. "There what is?"

"The assumption."

She stared.

"You believe I asked that question to make you look incompetent."

"You did."

"No."

I met her gaze. "I asked because the clause would have handed away part of your company's future."

"I had it handled."

"You didn't."

The words landed between us. She hated them and I could see it.

"I don't need Weston Capital's lawyer pretending to rescue me."

"I'm not pretending."

"You lawyers always think you're the smartest people in the room."

"Statistically improbable."

She blinked. "...Was that a joke?"

"Yes."

"You aren't funny."

"I disagree."

She rolled her eyes so dramatically I nearly laughed.

Nearly. "You know what your problem is?" she asked.

"I suspect you're about to tell me."

"You walk in here acting like you know everything."

"I know contracts."

"You know control."

"I know consequences."

She took one step closer. "So now you're going to tell me how to run my company?" "No." I answered without hesitation. "I'm going to tell you how to protect it."

For the first time since we'd met, she didn't have a reply.

Just a glare powerful enough to crack glass. Interesting. She wasn't impossible. She was simply accustomed to fighting. Even when no one had thrown the first punch.

And somehow, that made me pity her more than dislike her. Because carrying that much suspicion every day had to be exhausting.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Ms. Brooks."

Her expression hardened again. "I certainly hope not."

I picked up my folder. "I wouldn't make plans."

"What does that mean?"

I opened the door. "It means the operational evaluation begins Monday."

She frowned. "So?"

"So I'll be working from BrooksWell's headquarters."

Her face fell. "For the next..." I checked my watch with unnecessary precision. "Thirty days."

The silence that followed was almost worth the paperwork.

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