The CEO Above My Desk Chapter 144

***Rowan***

The loft is quiet.

Finally.

Too quiet for the kind of night we just walked out of.

I stand at the edge of the couch, arms crossed, watching her.

Violet.

Curled slightly on her side, one arm tucked beneath her head, the other resting loosely against her stomach like she didn’t even realize she fell asleep here. Her breathing is steady. Soft. Controlled in a way that tells me she didn’t mean to sleep.

My jaw tightens slightly.

I didn’t see it before. Not like this. Not clearly.

I saw competence. Reliability. Efficiency.

I didn’t see this.

This sharp edge beneath the softness.

This quiet, controlled fire.

This woman who could walk into a room full of people trained to break her and instead break them.

“Jesus,” Devin mutters behind me.

I don’t turn.

He’s been pacing for the last ten minutes, phone in hand, tablet on the desk, already halfway through three different plans at once.

“We have a problem,” he adds.

“I’m aware.”

“No,” he says. “You’re aware we might have a problem. I’m telling you we definitely do.”

That gets my attention.

I turn slightly, just enough to look at him.

He holds up the tablet.

“Listen to this again.”

I already have. Twice.

Still, I step closer.

Because I don’t ignore patterns.

And this is a pattern.

He plays the audio from the department file first.

Violet’s voice. Clear. Controlled. Answering questions.

Then there’s a gap.

A sharp, unnatural skip.

Then it continues. Different question. Different tone. Different rhythm.

I don’t say anything.

He switches to Violet’s recording.

Same moment. Same conversation.

Except it doesn’t skip.

It continues. Clean. Uninterrupted.

And in that missing section, Hargrove is talking. Admitting. Careless. Exposed.

My jaw tightens. “Play it again,” I say.

He does.

Same result.

Department version cut.

Violet’s version complete.

A lot of parts are missing.

Not seconds.

Minutes.

Important minutes.

Deliberate minutes.

I walk back to the desk and grab a pen without thinking.

Write it down.

Timestamp.

Gap duration.

Cross reference.

Pattern recognition.

“Someone already got to their system,” Devin says.

“Yes.”

“Fast.”

“Yes.”

“Which means…”

“They expected something to be recorded.”

He goes still. Then nods slowly. “That’s what I was thinking.”

I write faster.

Controlled. Precise.

Because if someone moved this quickly, they’re not reacting.

They’re anticipating.

I tear the page out and set it aside.

“Get me someone,” I say.

Devin doesn’t ask what I mean. “Already on it,” he replies. “Digital forensics. Independent. Not tied to the department.”

“Good.”

“I’ll have them verify if the recording’s been altered, scrubbed, or replaced entirely.”

“It has.”

“Yeah,” he says. “I know. But I want proof.”

So do I.

Because proof is leverage.

And leverage wins.

A sharp sound echoes faintly from downstairs.

Then a muffled laugh.

Then something hitting a wall.

My eyes close for half a second.

Theo... And Camille.

Of course.

The sounds carry again. Not subtle. Not quiet. Not even trying.

I inhale slowly.

Remind myself to be patient. To be kind.

They just went through their own version of hell tonight.

Another sound. Louder this time.

My jaw tightens.

I will not be kind if they wake her.

I glance back at Violet. Still asleep. Still unmoving.

Good.

Because if she wakes, if her mind starts running again, she won’t sleep tonight.

And she needs it. More than she’ll admit. More than she realizes.

I step closer to the couch again.

Lower this time.

Close enough to see the faint crease between her brows even in sleep.

Tension. Still there. Always there.

My hand moves before I think about it.

I brush it lightly across her forehead.

Smooth it out. Just once.

She exhales softly. Relaxes. Just a little.

Something tight in my chest shifts.

“I can’t believe I missed this,” I mutter quietly.

Devin glances over. “Missed what?”

I don’t look at him.

I keep my eyes on her.

“How perfect she is for this,” I say.

“For *you*,” he corrects.

That too.

I don’t argue it.

Because he’s right.

I was looking for efficiency. Control. Compatibility.

What I got was someone who can stand in my world and not just survive it, but shape it.

And now they’ve noticed her.

Hargrove noticed her.

Whoever cut that recording noticed her.

That makes her a target.

My hand curls slightly at my side.

No.

That makes her protected.

“Rowan,” Devin says.

I look at him.

“We move fast on this,” he continues. “Because if they’re already altering evidence…”

“They’ll escalate.”

“Yes.”

“I know.”

He studies me for a moment.

“You’re calm.”

I tilt my head slightly.

“I’m precise.”

A beat.

Then a slow smile pulls at the corner of my mouth.

Cold.

Sharp.

Lethal.

“They made a mistake,” I say quietly.

Devin raises a brow. “Only one?”

“They touched something that belongs to me.”

My gaze drops back to Violet.

Still sleeping.

Still unaware.

For now.

“And now,” I continue softly, “they don’t get to control how this ends."

My fingers rest lightly against the back of the couch, close enough to touch her again if I need to. Close enough to remind myself she’s here. Safe. Breathing. Mine.

That word settles deeper than it should.

Not ownership.

Not possession.

Something else.

Something sharper.

Something permanent.

My wife.

I straighten slowly.

Turn.

Devin is already watching me.

He sees it.

The shift.

The line I just crossed in my head.

“Get me the mayor. He owes me a favor and I'm cashing it in.” I say.

He doesn’t hesitate. Doesn’t question it. Just reaches for his phone.

“Now?” he asks anyway, already dialing.

“Now.”

Because I’m done.

Done letting this drag out.

Done letting people think they can move pieces on a board I built.

Done letting corrupt cops and politicians touch anything tied to me and walk away like they’re untouchable.

“They owe you?” Devin asks, glancing up as the call begins to ring.

I let out a quiet breath. “He does.”

That’s all I say.

Because favors like that don’t need explanation.

Not here.

Not now.

The line clicks.

Devin doesn’t bother with pleasantries. “Put him on.”

A pause.

Then he hands me the phone.

I take it. “Mayor.”

There’s a beat on the other end.

Then a voice, cautious. “Rowan. This is… late.”

“It’s necessary.”

Silence.

He knows that tone. Everyone does.

“What’s going on?” he asks carefully.

I turn slightly, my eyes flicking back to Violet for half a second.

Still asleep. Still unaware of what’s about to happen.

Good.

“Your police department is compromised,” I say. "And your going to fix it before I 'fix' it for you."