By morning, Idris's office no longer resembled a war room—it had become a command center.
The first rays of daylight filtered through the tall windows, glinting off the empty coffee cups and cluttered tablets spread across the glass conference table. Amira had fallen asleep on the sofa, her legs curled beneath her, Idris's blazer draped over her shoulders.
Idris had stayed awake.
He wasn't exhausted—he was focused. The threats, the betrayal, the years of cautious strategy—it had all led to this moment. And now, there was no more room to be diplomatic.
His phone vibrated.
Frank.
"They went public," Frank said before Idris could greet him. "Khalid leaked the documents."
Idris's hand clenched around his mug. "All of them?"
"Everything. The settlement. Your grandfather's records. Even the donation discrepancies from six years ago."
Idris's jaw tightened. "And the board?"
"They're demanding an emergency meeting. Ten a.m. sharp. Idris… they think you've become a liability."
He ended the call without responding. It wasn't unexpected—but it was faster than he'd hoped.
A soft rustle made him turn. Amira blinked awake, stretching slightly. "What time is it?"
"Past six," he replied, voice low. "Khalid leaked the documents."
She sat up quickly. "All of them?"
He nodded. "The media will spin it. They'll question everything about me. My leadership. My past."
"And your heart?" she asked softly.
He turned to her then. "That's the one thing they can't touch."
She walked over to him, smoothing her hands over his tie, which he hadn't loosened since the night before. "Then we don't cower. You go to that boardroom, and you tell them everything. On your terms."
"And if I lose the company?"
She didn't flinch. "Then we build again. But not from fear. From freedom."
Idris stared at her. The fire in her eyes was unlike anything he'd ever seen. It wasn't just love—it was belief.
He pulled her close, whispering into her hair, "I don't know what I ever did to deserve you, but I'll spend the rest of my life making sure I never lose you."
"You won't," she said, brushing her lips against his jaw. "Now go. Remind them who you are."
The boardroom was filled with tension.
Twelve members, all seated around the oval table, their eyes sharp, voices murmuring. The CEO's chair was empty—until Idris stepped in.
He wore a dark navy suit, crisp and commanding. Amira had helped him choose it just an hour before. No ties to mourning or damage—this color spoke of power.
"Let's begin," he said, taking his seat.
The chairman, a gray-haired man with a hawk-like gaze, cleared his throat. "Idris. The events of the last twenty-four hours have left us deeply unsettled. These allegations, settlements, and financial anomalies—"
"—are not new," Idris interrupted calmly. "They're old scars, repurposed to look fresh."
Several murmurs followed.
"Gentlemen and ladies," he continued, "the settlement with Lara Adeyemi occurred three years ago. It was handled privately because that's what she requested. And yes, there were discrepancies in the 2019 donation budget. I discovered it, I fixed it, and those responsible were dismissed quietly to protect the brand's reputation."
One of the women leaned forward. "Why not disclose this earlier?"
"Because transparency is only effective when the audience isn't holding torches," Idris replied. "I was protecting the company from bad press. Ironically, that silence is what has come back to bite us."
The chairman narrowed his eyes. "And what of the hostile takeover rumors?"
"They're not rumors," Idris said. "Khalid Adebanjo has been buying shares through proxies. He's using a personal vendetta to dismantle this legacy."
A heavy silence settled over the room.
Then Idris stood. "I will not resign. But if this board wants to follow a man who plays dirty over one who plays fair, then you can vote me out. Just know this—if I walk, I won't be walking alone."
He dropped a folder on the table.
Inside were signed letters of withdrawal from Leventis's three largest partners, stating they'd pull out if Idris was removed.
"You're not just voting me out," he said. "You're dismantling the spine of this company."
The room shifted. Power had returned to his hands, even if momentarily.
"We'll reconvene in an hour," the chairman said, tension thick in his voice.
Outside the building, Amira stood near the lobby, pacing.
Her phone buzzed—an email alert. Her fingers froze as she read the subject line.
"Leventis CEO Allegations: The Full Breakdown"
She clicked, bracing herself for the worst. But as the article loaded, something strange happened. The tone wasn't critical—it was careful. It outlined the timeline of Idris's leadership, acknowledged the leaks, but highlighted his reforms, his recent initiatives, and even his humble beginnings.
Beneath the article was a byline she recognized.
Tariq Bello.
Her former editor.
A second alert arrived.
"Editor's Note: Why Idris Leventis Deserves a Fair Hearing"
She nearly choked.
A moment later, Idris emerged from the elevator, his tie loosened, but his expression unreadable.
"How did it go?" she asked, stepping closer.
"They're rattled. The vote's in an hour."
"You have allies," she said, showing him her phone. "Tariq just published a full breakdown—fair, balanced, even defensive of you."
He frowned. "Why would he do that?"
"Maybe because I sent him everything at four this morning," she said. "With one condition: if he was going to run the story, he had to run the truth."
Idris stared at her like she'd just performed a miracle. "You did that for me?"
"No," she said. "I did that for us."
A rare softness broke across his face. "You're changing me, Amira."
She shook her head. "No. I'm reminding you who you were before the world hardened you."
An hour later, the board voted.
Seven in favor of retaining Idris. Five against.
He kept his seat—but the war wasn't over.
As they walked to the car, Frank approached quickly, a grim look on his face.
"There's more," he said. "We found surveillance footage. Naima didn't just leak the documents. She bribed one of our junior staffers to gain access."
Amira felt her stomach drop. "There's proof?"
Frank nodded. "Enough to press charges."
Idris shook his head. "Not yet. Let her think she's safe. I want her to feel untouchable—then we pull the rug from under her."
Amira linked her arm with his. "And Khalid?"
"He wants war," Idris said. "We'll give him one. But on our battlefield."
As they slid into the car, Amira rested her head against his shoulder. "This is only the beginning, isn't it?"
Idris kissed the top of her head. "Yes. But this time, I'm not fighting alone."