Page 19 of Big Billionaire

Shaw swallows. Pierce frowns, bristling. “We cannot afford a dip in shareholder confidence. A girl like Clarke is expendable—”

I slam my palm down on the table, making the water glasses tremble. The room goes dead quiet.

“Careful,” I growl, my voice low, dangerous. “Choose your next words wisely.”

No one breathes.

I stand, buttoning my jacket, and look each of them in the eye. “Blackwell Academy was built on talent, discipline, and legacy. Lena Clarke has more raw talent than any dancer I’ve seen in two decades. She’s more than earned her scholarship. She’s earned her place on that stage. I will not let tabloid garbage dictate her future—or the future of this company.”

Pierce scoffs, but quieter now. “You’re being sentimental.”

I step closer, looming over him. “No. I’m being strategic. We hold her scholarship. We keep her at the Academy. And we control the narrative. If the press thinks they can topple us with rumors, they’ll learn the hard way what it means to go against Blackwell Enterprises.”

Pierce shifts, uncomfortable under the steel in my tone.

Another one—Stanton, a middle-aged prick who’s been trying to undermine me for years—leans back in his chair, adjusting his tie with a smug flick of his fingers. “With all due respect, Damien,” he says, voice dripping condescension, “our hands may be tied here. The press isn’t just running with the story…they’re salivating over it. Father, son, and the ballerina between them. A scandal fit for prime time. I don’t think you should be defending her so fiercely.”

Murmurs ripple around the table. One bolder than the rest lets his words slip, low but audible. “Except maybe the rumors are true.”

The room falls silent.

My head snaps in the direction of the voice. I don’t even remember his name, just another weak suit at the table, but the blood drains from his face when my eyes lock on him.

“Repeat that,” I command, my voice a lethal growl.

No one breathes.

He swallows hard, stammering. “I-I only meant—”

I cut him off with a dry scoff. “You will never imply something like that about her again. Do you understand me?” I order through gritted teeth. “Lena Clarke has worked hard to earn her place here. More than any of you sitting in this room. Anything there may or may not be between us has nothing to do with her position at this Academy. And more importantly, is none of anyone’s business but ours.”

I let the silence stretch, my gaze sweeping over every one of them until they squirm. Until they remember who they’re dealing with.

Lowering my voice to a blade’s edge, I add, “She’s under my protection. Which means she is untouchable. Anyone who forgets that will find themselves tossed out of this company before the ink dries on their resignation.”

The message lands. Heads bow. Papers shuffle. No one meets my eyes.

I sit back down slowly, reclaiming my seat like a king reclaiming his throne.

“Here’s what will happen,” I say, keeping my tone final. “Clarke stays. The seasonal program continues unchanged. And if a single headline dents our shares, I’ll personally see to it the source is gutted—legally, financially, and publicly. Understood?”

Silence. Then, reluctantly, heads begin to nod. Even Pierce.

“Good. Then it’s settled.”

But inside, my fury hasn’t cooled. Because even with the board’s obedience, I know this is only the beginning. The vultures won’t stop circling.

Which means I won’t stop either.

Lena belongs to me now. And I’ll burn this entire empire to the ground before I let them destroy her.

The boardroom empties like a school of fish scattering from a shark, the men filing out in nervous silence. I don’t bother looking at any of them. My mind is already elsewhere, already on her smooth skin and perfect grace. On the way her face looks when she falls apart beneath me.

I remain in my seat even after the last person has left the room. I want to be sure the last of them will have exited the building before I head out.

In the hall, the elevator doors slide open with a soft ding, and of course fate decides to test me.

Logan is leaning against the mirrored wall inside the elevator, phone in hand, smirk plastered on his face like he doesn’t have a single goddamn care in the world. My son. My mistake.