The CEO Above My Desk Chapter 145

***Rowan***

“Your police department is compromised,” I say. Then, just slightly lower, colder, “and you’re going to fix it before I fix it for you.”

That does it.

The air on the other end shifts. Not confusion. Not dismissal. Recognition.

Because he knows exactly what I’m capable of when I stop asking.

“Rowan…” he starts carefully.

“No,” I cut in. “Listen.”

My eyes flick back to Violet for half a second before settling forward again.

“I have evidence of internal tampering. Altered recordings. Unauthorized access to a witness. A councilwoman inserting herself into an active investigation with no legal authority.”

A pause. Longer this time.

He’s recalibrating. “You’re sure about this?”

“I don’t deal in ‘sure,’” I reply. “I deal in facts.”

Devin’s watching me closely now, not interrupting, not moving. Just listening. Measuring.

“You wanted that office,” I continue. “I helped you get it.”

“I know.”

“And now I’m calling that favor in.”

Silence again. Then... “What do you want?”

“I want this cleaned up,” I say. “Immediately.” My voice doesn’t rise. It doesn’t need to. “I want internal affairs in that building before sunrise. I want every officer tied to Calder audited. I want your systems locked down before anything else disappears.”

I let that settle. Then add, quieter... “And I want Hargrove handled.”

His breath catches slightly. “Handled how?”

“Carefully,” I say. “But thoroughly.”

Another pause.

“If I move on her,” he says slowly, “this won’t stay quiet.”

“I’m not asking for quiet.”

I glance back at Violet again. Still asleep. Still peaceful.

For now.

“I’m asking for control.”

That lands.

Hard.

“Rowan… this could escalate.”

“It already has.”

Silence stretches. Then a quiet exhale. Decision made.

“I’ll make the calls,” he says.

“Tonight.”

“Yes.”

“I want confirmation.”

“You’ll have it.”

I don’t thank him. I don’t need to. Because this was never about asking. It was about reminding him who he owes.

I end the call and hand the phone back to Devin.

He takes it slowly, studying me for a second longer than usual.

“Well,” he mutters, “that’s one way to light a match.”

I glance back at Violet.

Then forward again.

“It’s not a match,” I say. “It’s a warning.”

I move to the desk, already pulling up the files, the recordings, the timestamps we just mapped out. Clean versions. Untouched. Unaltered. The truth before anyone had a chance to put their hands on it.

“Devin,” I say.

He looks up immediately.

“I want everything we have sent over. Full package. Both recordings. Ours and theirs. Notes. Timeline discrepancies. Everything.”

His eyes narrow slightly. “To who?”

“The mayor’s lawyer.”

There’s a beat.

Then—

“…Asher West?” Devin asks, already knowing the answer and hating it.

“Yes.”

He exhales sharply, scrubbing a hand down his face. “God, I know exactly who you’re talking about.”

“Good.”

“I hate that fucking guy.”

That almost gets a reaction out of me.

“Why?” I ask, not looking up from the files.

“Because he’s good,” Devin mutters. “Too good. He always finds some loophole, some technicality, some way to twist things just enough for the mayor to slip through whatever mess he’s in.”

I pause for half a second.

Then continue organizing.

“He does his job,” I say.

“He does it slimy,” Devin corrects.

I lean back slightly, finally looking at him.

“Sometimes,” I say evenly, “being slimy helps you win.”

That lands.

He watches me for a moment.

Then nods once. “Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, it does.”

I turn back to the screen.

Because at this point—

Winning is the only thing that matters.

“I don’t care how it gets handled,” I continue, my voice quieter now, colder. “I don’t care who it pisses off. I don’t care what it exposes.”

My eyes flick to the couch.

To her.

Still asleep.

Still trusting me to handle this.

“They’re coming after my wife,” I say.

The word sits heavier this time.

My jaw tightens.

“I’ll crush them.”

There’s no emotion in it.

No raised voice.

No dramatic emphasis.

Just truth.

Devin studies me for a second longer.

Then moves.

“Alright,” he says, already pulling up his own system. “I’ll compile everything and send it directly to West. Encrypted. Off department channels.”

“Good.”

“And Rowan?”

I don’t look up.

“This is going to get ugly.”

A slow, cold smile pulls at my mouth.

“It already is.”

I hear movement behind me.

Soft.

Barely there.

I glance back.

Violet shifts slightly on the couch, adjusting in her sleep, pulling the edge of the blanket closer without fully waking.

My chest tightens just enough to notice.

Then settles.

Because this...This is exactly what they’re threatening.

And I’m not letting them take it.

Not now.

Not ever.

“Send it,” I say.

I don’t say anything else.

Not to Devin.

Not to the room.

Not to the mess waiting to be handled.

Because if I stay here, if I keep thinking, keep planning, keep watching the pieces move... I’m going to snap.

And that doesn’t help anyone. Especially not her.

I move before I think about it.

Cross the room quietly. Controlled. Measured.

Every step deliberate. Because for once, I’m not moving toward a problem. I’m moving toward something I refuse to lose.

I crouch beside her, studying her for just a second longer.

Her breathing is steady. But there’s still tension in her face. In the way her fingers curl slightly like she’s holding onto something even in sleep.

“Violet,” I murmur softly.

No response.

Good.

She needs this.

Carefully, I slide one arm beneath her legs, the other around her back, lifting her slowly, making sure I don’t jolt her awake.

She shifts slightly against me, a quiet sound leaving her, but she doesn’t wake.

Instead, she leans in. Instinct. Trust.

My jaw tightens.

Because that... That does something to me I don’t have the words for.

I straighten, holding her easily against my chest, her head settling just beneath my chin like it belongs there.

Like she belongs there. With me.

In my space. In my life. In the chaos I’ve built and the control I’ve fought to maintain.

I never thought I’d find someone who could stand in this world and not break under it.

Never thought I’d find someone who wouldn’t run.

Who wouldn’t fold.

Who wouldn’t look at me and see something too much to handle.

But I did.

And she’s in my arms.

My wife.

The woman who will spend the rest of her life with me.

The woman I didn’t know I was waiting for until she was already standing in front of me.

My hold on her tightens just slightly.

Not enough to wake her.

Just enough to ground myself in it.

In her.

In the fact that she’s real.

And she’s mine.