A SECOND CHANCE AT FOREVER Chapter 107: CHAPTER HUNDRED & SEVEN

KYLE

The office was too quiet.

Not the good kind of quiet—productive, focused, promising—but the type that made your skin itch. Like something was still crawling beneath the surface. Two days had passed since we’d patched the last bit of digital damage from the breach, but the truth sat heavy: we hadn’t found the damn culprit.

I sat behind my desk, fingers steepled under my chin as lines of code scrolled across the screen. I wasn’t a developer. I didn’t need to be. I hired the best, paid them well, and expected perfection. But even now, I was combing through system logs and security reports like the answer might just leap out if I stared hard enough.

It didn’t.

Mark stood nearby, tablet in hand, his brow furrowed behind his glasses. “We’ve rerouted internal traffic through a new encryption channel. Isolated the breach point and restored backups from the hour before the hit. We’re stable now.”

“But we still don’t know who did it,” I muttered.

Mark hesitated. “We have leads. The trail’s cold but not dead.”

I leaned back in my chair and stared at the ceiling. “Cold means nothing. Someone got in. Made us look like amateurs. And they’re still out there.”

He said nothing. Smart. I wasn’t looking for comfort.

The office smelled like fresh coffee and leather polish, but it felt sterile. Soulless. I used to thrive in that atmosphere—the precision, the control. Every square inch of Blackwood Enterprises was designed to reflect discipline and power. But today, it just felt… dull.

I hadn’t seen Ashley in two days.

And that shouldn’t matter. Not here. Not in this room where empires were shaped and rebuilt. But it did. I’d caught myself checking the time, glancing at my phone too often, scrolling back to the photo I’d snapped of her laughing beside a shelter puppy. I told myself it was just curiosity. But every time I saw her smile, it hit like a punch to the chest.

“You’re distracted,” Mark said quietly.

I looked at him sharply.

“Not criticizing. Just… observing.”

I exhaled through my nose. “That obvious?”

He gave a small shrug. “You haven’t yelled at me all morning.”

A dry chuckle escaped me before I could stop it. “Guess I’m evolving.”

He cracked a grin. “I didn’t want to say anything, but… I kind of like this new version of you. Less terrifying. More human.”

I shot him a look, but it didn’t have its usual edge. “Don’t get used to it.”

He nodded and stepped back toward the door. “You’ve got a window in your schedule after the board review. If you wanted to step out… now’s the time.”

I knew what he was implying. He wasn’t just a good assistant—he was smart, observant. Maybe too observant.

I closed the laptop gently. “Call me a car.”

“You’re not driving?”

“No. I want time to think.”

And I did. Because if I showed up at her store unannounced, it couldn’t be impulsive. It had to mean something.

Mark nodded and left me alone.

I sat in that silence for a moment longer, the city murmuring just outside the glass walls. Somewhere out there, she was arranging perfume bottles, maybe laughing with a customer, maybe not thinking of me at all.

But I was thinking of her.

Of the kiss in the car. Of the way she’d looked at me afterward—like she wanted to believe in me again but didn’t quite trust her heart to try.

Two days.

That was long enough.

Mark reappeared at the door, tablet still tucked under one arm. “The car’s out front.”

I stood, straightening my jacket, rolling my shoulders once to shake off the tension. My mind was already halfway to her store—already imagining the bell above the door, the scent of vanilla and musk that always clung to her, the way her eyes might light up when she saw me.

I grabbed my phone from the desk to silence notifications before I left.

And paused.

Right there at the top of my news feed was my name.

BLACKWOOD ENTERPRISES PARTNERS WITH A LOCAL ANIMAL SHELTER IN NEW PR INITIATIVE

By Lila Keene | Metro City Journal | 12 minutes ago

The headline alone was enough to freeze me in place, thumb hovering over the screen. My stomach sank. I clicked the article open.

“ In a surprising move that’s generating buzz across social media, Blackwood Enterprises has reportedly made a significant donation to a local no-kill animal shelter—just days after a company scandal sparked backlash across tech circles. While the company declined to comment, insiders suggest the initiative is part of a broader strategy to soften the brand’s public image and appeal to a younger, socially conscious audience.

“It’s a classic PR play,” said image consultant Mariah Hennesy. “After a high-profile breach like the one Blackwood faced, companies often pivot toward community engagement to rebuild trust. Donations, animal shelters, feel-good press—it’s all about appearing more human.”

Representatives from the shelter confirmed receipt of the donation but declined to elaborate on the source until a formal statement is released. However, local volunteers say the timing—and the anonymous donor—coincide too closely with Blackwood’s recent headlines to be a coincidence.

One insider remarked that the donation included not just money but supplies and event sponsorship. “Whoever it was… they cared,” said a shelter employee. “And they clearly had the resources to make a difference.”

But the internet remains skeptical, with some calling it a “rebrand stunt” and others applauding the effort. Either way, Blackwood’s latest move has tongues wagging—and eyes watching.”

My jaw tightened.

“Sir?” Mark asked, noticing the sudden shift in my posture.

I turned the screen toward him, jaw clenched. “Tell me this didn’t come from our office.”

Mark’s brows shot up. He scanned the article quickly, then looked back at me. “This was supposed to be anonymous.”

“Then how the hell did it get leaked?” I snapped, anger spiking fast and hot. “It’s barely been forty-eight hours. This wasn’t about press.”

It was about her.

Ashley. The shelter. That soft, grateful look in her eyes when she said thank you. I hadn’t done it for headlines or redemption or some curated redemption arc. I did it because I wanted to prove to her—maybe even to myself—that I could care. That I did care.

And now it looked like a goddamn publicity stunt.

“I’ll look into it,” Mark said quickly. “It could’ve been someone at the shelter who talked. Or a vendor. Or—hell, a board member. You know how fast things travel.”

“Find out who,” I said, voice low. “Now.”

Mark nodded, already typing something into his tablet. “Do you still want to go to her store?”

I hesitated.

I’d wanted to show up with no agenda. Just show her I remembered. That I missed her. That what happened between us two nights ago wasn’t just some lapse.

But now?

Now I’d show up looking like a walking PR campaign.

I sat back down, phone still gripped tight in my hand. “Give me five minutes.”

Mark lingered a second longer before retreating again, silent as ever.

The phone screen dimmed, but I didn’t move. My chest felt tight, not with fury—though that was there, simmering—but with something heavier. A kind of helplessness I hated.

This mattered to me.

She mattered.

And now the sincerity of it all was tainted by people spinning narratives in a conference room somewhere.

I took a slow breath, running a hand down my face.

Ashley hated manipulation. She’d been manipulated too many times. Cheated. Lied to. Used.

If she saw that article before I got there…

She’d think I hadn’t changed at all.

And that, more than anything else, made my blood run cold.