The CEO Above My Desk Chapter 152

***Violet***

Inside of the SUV feels too small. Too hot.

Red and blue lights flash across the windows in violent bursts. The distant sound of sirens echoes through the streets while smoke curls upward into the night sky several blocks ahead, thick enough that I can still smell it even with the windows rolled up. Burning metal and ash fills my nose.

Rowan and Theo stand near the yellow police tape ahead, both speaking with officers while people swarm around them. Firefighters move quickly in the background. EMTs. Police. Reporters trying to push closer before getting shoved back again.

Even from here, Rowan looks terrifying. One hand in his pocket while the other gestures sharply toward the building as an officer speaks to him.

Theo, on the other hand, looks ready to punch someone.

“God,” Camille mutters beside me, staring out the windshield. “This is insane.”

I nod faintly. Because what else am I supposed to say?

She’s curled slightly toward me in the backseat, her phone glowing in the darkness between us as she refreshes news articles every few seconds.

“It’s already everywhere online,” she says quietly.

Of course it is. Anything involving Rowan Ashcroft spreads like wildfire. Anything involving explosions spreads faster.

Camille scrolls again, reading quietly under her breath before sighing. “Okay… they’re saying emergency crews responded within six minutes,” she says. “Lower parking structure was hit first. Fire spread toward the east-side entrance but suppression systems stopped most of it.”

I glance back toward the building. Smoke still pours from the lower levels. “How bad is it?”

“They still don’t know,” she says softly. “They’re saying possible injuries but no confirmed fatalities yet.”

*Thank God.*

My chest loosens slightly at that.

Outside, another officer moves reporters farther back as more cameras arrive.

“People are already speculating online,” Camille mutters, disgust coating her voice now. “Some think it’s corporate sabotage. Others think it’s retaliation for the investigation.”

I lean my head back against the seat.

The investigation... Was it someone from the police department? Was it someone that knows Hargove? Avery? Was it a paid source or just some stupid teenager that likes to play with fire?

Camille refreshes the page again annd then goes still.

“What?” I ask quietly.

Her brows pull together as she stares at the screen. “No fucking way.”

“What?” I said again.

She slowly turns the phone toward me. And the second I see the name... My stomach drops.

Leah Frank. The journalist. The one who forced her way into the Rowan's office weeks ago like boundaries didn’t exist.

God. That feels like another lifetime now. I still remember the way she looked at me. Too observant. Too interested.

Camille clicks the article. A livestream immediately loads. Standing just outside the police barricades with smoke rising behind her dramatically like she planned the shot herself.

“Of course she’s here,” I mutter.

“She’s a vulture,” Camille says flatly.

Leah speaks smoothly into the microphone, her expression perfectly crafted concern. “Questions continue to rise tonight surrounding the explosion at Ashcroft Industries and whether this incident may somehow connect to the ongoing federal investigation involving corruption inside the local police department.”

My jaw tightens. Oh, this bitch knows exactly what she’s doing.

The screen shifts suddenly and my stomach twists harder.

Because standing beside Leah... Is Councilwoman Hargrove. And Avery.

Of course.

*Of fucking course.*

Avery stands slightly behind Hargrove like always, clipboard in hand, posture perfect, expression carefully neutral. When the hell did Avery become this? She was horrible at her job with Rowan? Always mixing up schedules, always forgetting important details, never relaying correct information from one person to the next. Now, she stands there with a fucking clipboard?

And Hargrove... She looks composed. Too composed. Like she’s been waiting for cameras.

“Jesus Christ,” Camille whispers beside me.

Leah turns toward Hargrove. “Councilwoman, do you believe tonight’s events are connected to the allegations currently surrounding Ashcroft Industries and the recent homicide investigation?”

Hargrove sighs softly. Practiced. Controlled. “I believe,” she says carefully, “that this city has been operating under fear and intimidation for a very long time.”

My blood runs cold.

Camille sits upright instantly. “Oh, fuck her.”

“I want to believe Mr. Ashcroft is innocent,” Hargrove continues smoothly. “Truly. But when violence continues following the same individuals repeatedly… eventually difficult questions have to be asked.”

I stare at the screen in disbelief. “She’s blaming him,” I whisper.

“She’s setting him up,” Camille corrects immediately.

Outside, Rowan shifts slightly while speaking with another officer. Completely unaware that this interview is happening right now on the other side of the building where a bigger crowd was gathering, while watching this whole fucked up situation unfold.

Avery's voice ends up catching my attention again, drawing me back to the Camille's phone. “We’re simply encouraging transparency during an active investigation.”

My jaw clenches. Transparency. Right.

Like cornering me in an interrogation room wasn’t intimidation. Like showing up together wasn’t strategic. Like none of this is deliberate.

Camille scrolls through the comments underneath the livestream and groans. “Nope. I hate people.”

“What now?”

“People are already turning on Rowan online,” she mutters. “Half of them are calling him dangerous. The other half think he’s being framed.”

I stare back out at him through the windshield. At the sharp lines of his posture. The cold control in every movement The officers around him looking nervous despite themselves. He looks untouchable standing there. Powerful. Dangerous.

But I know better now. Because underneath all of that control... He’s exhausted. Angry. Scared for me.

And watching Hargrove smile on my screen while trying to bury him under public suspicion? Something ugly starts burning in my chest. Something hot. Sharp. Protective.

Camille slowly lowers the phone. “You okay?”

I keep staring at the livestream. At Hargrove. At Avery standing quietly beside her. At Leah Frank eating up every word.

I lean back slowly against the seat. Thinking.

Really thinking. Because suddenly all I can see are patterns. Connections. People protecting each other. Covering for each other. One corrupt person attached to another attached to another.

Police. Council members. Media. Assistants. Everyone tied together.

A hydra.

The thought hits me so hard I actually go still.

Camille notices immediately. “Violet?”

I slowly turn toward her. “Call Kevin.”

She frowns. “Kevin?”

“The head of security.”

Her confusion deepens instantly. “Why?”

I glance back toward the livestream one last time before looking at her again. “Because the only way to kill a hydra…” I say quietly, “is to cut off all the heads at the same time.”