His Dangerous Love On Ice Chapter 70: Olive's Pov

Brenda squeezed my arm once before pushing open the heavy conference room doors.

The second we stepped inside, every head turned toward us.

No—toward me.

The conference room was massive, the dark wood and floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking Seattle. A long table dominated the center of the space, surrounded by leather chairs.

And sitting in those chairs were some of the most powerful people in Chicago's sports and business world.

Grayson sat at the head of the table, his expression unreadable—that CEO mask he wore when he was trying not to show emotion. But I could see the tension in his jaw, the way his fingers were pressed flat against the table like he was physically restraining himself.

Beside him sat Marcus and Fiona—two of the senior board members I recognized from previous meetings. Their expressions ranged from curious to concerned to barely concealed judgment.

And then there was Zane.

He sat across from Grayson, leaning back in his chair with the kind of casual confidence that came from knowing you were the most dangerous person in the room. His suit was immaculate—charcoal gray, perfectly tailored, the kind that whispered money without needing to shout it.

But it was his eyes that made my breath catch.

Those cold blue eyes that had looked at me this morning with something almost tender. That had watched me fall apart beneath him last night. That had promised me he'd fix everything.

Now they were sharp. Calculating. The eyes of a predator sizing up his prey.

He looked like power incarnate.

And I'd never been more attracted to someone in my entire life, which was probably a sign that I needed therapy.

"Olive," Grayson's voice cut through my thoughts. "Thank you for joining us."

There was no warmth in his tone. No familiarity. This was CEO Grayson, not stepdad Grayson.

"I came as soon as I heard," I said, my voice steadier than I felt.

Brenda guided me toward two empty chairs near the middle of the table, and we sat down. I could feel everyone's eyes on me—judging, analyzing, wondering if the girl from the scandal video was actually brave enough or stupid enough to show her face here.

"We were just discussing the recent... developments," Fiona said carefully, her eyes flicking between me and Zane.

"Developments," I repeated flatly. "Is that what we're calling it?"

"Miss Monroe," Marcus said, his tone diplomatic but strained. "I think we all understand this has been a difficult situation for you. But the board needs to address the impact this scandal has had on both Hopkins and our potential partnership with the Mercer Company."

My stomach dropped. The partnership. The one I'd somehow being part of approval. The one that was supposed to protect Hopkins from the fallout when my fake relationship with Zane inevitably ended.

The one that now might collapse entirely because of this video.

"Actually," Zane said, his voice cutting through the room like a blade, "I think you'll find there is no scandal."

Everyone turned to look at him.

He reached for the tablet in front of him, tapping the screen a few times before projecting something onto the large monitor mounted on the wall behind Grayson.

The video appeared—the one that had destroyed my life. The woman who looked like me, sounded like me, allegedly confessing to using Zane for money and connections.

I felt sick just looking at it.

"This video," Zane continued, his voice calm and controlled, "is a deepfake. A very good one, I'll admit. But a fake nonetheless."

He tapped the screen again, and the video froze on a frame showing the woman's face.

"Notice the pixelation around the jawline," he said, using a laser pointer to highlight the area. "The slight delay between the audio and the lip movements. The unnatural shadow placement that doesn't match the supposed light source in the room."

He pulled up another image—a technical analysis with graphs and data I didn't fully understand but looked incredibly official.

"My team ran a full forensic analysis," Zane said. "This video was created using AI technology, likely using publicly available photos and voice recordings of Miss Monroe. The person who created it was skilled, but not skilled enough to fool professionals."

The room was silent.

I stared at the screen, my heart pounding, because I'd known it was fake—obviously I'd known—but seeing actual proof, seeing someone publicly defend me with evidence, made something crack inside my chest.

"Furthermore," Zane continued, pulling up another screen, "we've identified the individual responsible for creating and distributing this video. Legal action is already underway."

"Who was it?" Fiona asked, leaning forward.

Zane's expression didn't change. "That information is confidential pending the legal proceedings. But I can assure you, they will face consequences."

Sophia, I thought immediately. It had to be Sophia.

But Zane didn't say her name. Didn't even hint at it. And I realized with a jolt that he was protecting his sister—even after what she'd done.

Or maybe he was protecting his family's reputation. Hard to tell with Zane.

"As for the media coverage," Zane said, pulling up yet another screen, "my team has already removed the video from all major platforms. Every article, every post, every comment has been scrubbed. The few media outlets that ran with the story have been issued cease and desist letters and are currently printing retractions."

I blinked. "You—you did that?"

His eyes flicked to mine for just a second, something unreadable passing across his face. "I told you I'd handle it."

He had. He'd actually done it. Removed an entire scandal from the internet like it had never existed.

How much power did someone need to pull that off? How many resources, how many connections, how much money?

"That's... impressive," Marcus said slowly. "But Mr. Mercer, with all due respect, damage control doesn't address the underlying issue here."

Zane raised an eyebrow. "Which is?"

"The volatility," Grayson said, speaking for the first time since I'd entered the room. His voice was tight. "Your presence in this partnership brings attention. Media scrutiny. Public interest. And as we've just seen, it also brings risks."

"Risks," Zane repeated, his tone dangerous now.

"Yes," Grayson continued, meeting his eyes. "Hopkins is a stable company with a solid reputation. We don't typically deal with this level of... drama."

I could see where this was going. Could see Grayson trying to back out of the partnership, trying to distance Hopkins from Zane and, by extension, from me.

"Then perhaps," Zane said, his voice dropping lower, "Hopkins needs to reconsider its definition of stability."

The room went quiet.

"Excuse me?" Grayson's jaw clenched.