A SECOND CHANCE AT FOREVER Chapter 108: CHAPTER HUNDRED & EIGHT

KYLE

Mark returned faster than I expected.

He didn’t knock—just stepped in, brows furrowed, tablet clutched tight. That alone told me enough.

“They didn’t know,” he said immediately, already anticipating my question. “The PR department—specifically Amanda—they thought it was a sanctioned initiative. She said the donation details hit the internal philanthropy ledger yesterday, and she figured it was greenlit. They wrote the release, pitched it to the Journal this morning.”

I closed my eyes, jaw flexing.

“She thought it was part of a strategic rollout and ran with it.” Mark added.

I raised my eyes slowly. “She thought?”

They’d taken something real—something raw and personal—and packaged it into branding material. Stripped it of the one thing it was supposed to have: sincerity.

Mark gave a slight nod. “She said—and I quote—‘After the breach fallout, I figured Kyle would want to get ahead of the narrative. It was the perfect story. Feel-good, emotionally resonant, and timely.’ She pitched it to the Journal first thing this morning.”

My chest tightened with the kind of fury I’d been holding back all week. “Did she even ask?”

“She said she didn’t think she needed to,” he said carefully. “She assumed you’d approve if it painted you in a good light.”

I stared at him for a second. “Tell Amanda she’s fired.”

Mark blinked. “Done.”

“And let everyone else in PR know—next time, they run things through me first. Not through the board, not through legal. ME!.  I don’t care if they’re pitching a goddamn bake sale. If it has my name or this company’s name attached to it, I want to see it first.”

He nodded, staying quiet, giving me space.

I looked back down at the screen, the glowing headline, the comments already flooding in beneath it. Half of them cynical. The other half—worse—believing every word. That I was orchestrating a redemption arc. That this was just another power play in a long line of calculated moves.

Ashley would hate that.

I stood again, slower this time, as if the weight of it had settled into my bones. 

I grabbed my coat anyway. “Reschedule the board review. Move the investor check-in to tomorrow.”

Mark blinked. “You’re still going?”

“Yes,” I said firmly, walking past him. “Because if I wait, I lose the chance to explain. And I won’t have her reading some PR spin about me on her phone before I get to look her in the eye.”

“Got it.” Mark followed quickly. “Should I tell the driver you’re ready?”

“No.” I stopped by the elevator. “I’ll drive myself.”

He gave a small nod. “Good luck, sir.”

Ashley would be pissed.

 if there was to explain better—it was now. Before she decided the man she kissed two days ago was just another mask I wore for the cameras.

The elevator doors slid open with a soft chime, but just as I stepped forward, someone barreled in from the hallway.

“Sir—!” It was Evan, one of the newer comms staff, practically breathless. His tie was crooked, his tablet clutched in one hand, face flushed like he’d sprinted across the entire floor.

I raised a brow. “You planning to breathe anytime soon?”

He took a shaky inhale. “The media’s here. Downstairs. They’re swarming the front entrance. Cameras, reporters—everyone. They want a statement. Your statement.”

My jaw tensed.

Of course they did.

“They’re saying you used the shelter to clean up the company’s image after the breach,” he added. “Some are calling it manufactured compassion. A few are asking if this was a cover-up tactic.”

I stared at him for a second. Then I laughed—cold and humorless.

Of course this is how it spins. One honest moment, and it’s already being dissected and fed to the wolves.

Evan shifted uncomfortably under my silence. “Do you… want me to draft something? Or—?”

“No,” I cut in. “Tell them I have no comment..Get someone else to babysit the press. You’re dismissed.”

He blinked. “Sir, I just—”

“I said go.”

He stiffened, nodded quickly, and disappeared down the hall.

A second later, Mark rounded the corner, tablet in hand, calm but with that edge in his eyes he only got when I was being reckless.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” he said evenly.

I shot him a look. “He came charging in like the building was on fire.”

“He was doing his job. And you need to do yours.”

I frowned.

Mark didn’t move, just stood there, eyes still on me. “Look… I know you’re pissed. And I know firing Amanda might feel justified right now, but—she meant well.”

I shot him a sharp look.

“She overstepped,” I said coldly.

“Yes she did,” Mark agreed, carefully. “But Kyle… her stunt worked.”

I didn’t answer.

“You haven’t seen the backend chatter,” he continued. “Before the shelter article hit, we were drowning. Investors were nervous. Clients were circling exits. We were this close to crisis-level fallout from the breach. But now?”

He turned his tablet toward me and tapped a few times. “We’re trending. But not because of the breach. Because you donated. Because Blackwood Enterprises showed a pulse. Because for the first time in days, you look like a man who gives a damn. And people are responding to that.”

I stared at the numbers. Search spikes. Positive engagement. A sudden uptick in potential client interest.

“Her PR play reframed the narrative,” Mark said. “Whether she meant to or not, Amanda shifted the conversation. The breach is no longer the headline.”

My jaw worked as I turned away. That should’ve been a relief. It wasn’t.

“She still went behind my back.”

“She did. And she’s already gotten an earful from Legal,” Mark said. “But don’t miss the bigger picture. You didn’t donate to get praised. I know that. You know that. But the world doesn’t. And right now, everyone’s projecting their own story onto what happened.”

I folded my arms across my chest.

“If you don’t say something, Kyle, that becomes the truth. You donated to fix your image. That’s the version people will run with. And Amanda’s move? It worked in your favor, but only halfway. You’ve got to finish the job.”

He looked me dead in the eye.

“Face the press. Clarify the intent. If you let the silence speak for you, everyone will assume it’s guilt or manipulation. That you did this for PR and not because it mattered.”

“I did do it because it mattered,” I said through clenched teeth.

“Then show them.”

I looked away, jaw tight.

“I’m not saying go down there and bare your soul,” Mark said, tone steady but firm. “Just own your intention. Make it clear this wasn’t about optics. That you cared. That the donation wasn’t about Blackwood—it was about the damn shelter. About something that had nothing to do with spin or strategy.”

He paused. “Say that, and the narrative shifts again. Say nothing, and they’ll write the ending themselves.”

The silence stretched between us.

Then I let out a breath, slow and controlled.

“Get me a clean shirt,” I said quietly. “And prep the front lot.”

Mark nodded once. “Yes, sir.”

“And call Amanda,” I added reluctantly. “Tell her next time, she clears everything through me first. Every damn thing.”

Mark’s mouth twitched. “Yes, sir.”

I turned toward the window, staring at the press vans piling up on the street like vultures circling a corpse.

Fine.

If they wanted the truth, they were going to hear it from me.