Emergency
ARIANA'S POV
I stared at the screen, thumb hovering over the call button again. Dante Rivas.
The name alone sent a ripple of nerves through me. My father trusted him—and my father trusted no one easily. He used to say Dante wasn’t just a ghost, he was the kind of man who could walk through fire and come out without a burn, holding your secrets in one hand and your enemies’ heads in the other.
So why wasn’t he picking up?
The phone rang.
And rang.
And rang.
I hung up.
Waited.
Tried again.
Nothing.
The silence on the other end buzzed louder than any voicemail ever could.
I tossed the phone down, exhaling hard as I leaned back into my chair. The leather creaked softly beneath me, and for a second, the walls of my office seemed to press in. I needed answers. Now. That ring shouldn’t have resurfaced. It wasn’t just sentimental—it was a symbol. And someone had planted it like a threat in my own home.
My phone buzzed. I jolted upright, hopeful.
But it wasn’t Dante.
Joan, my assistant, popped her head through the door. Her face was tight with nerves, her eyes darting like she’d walked into the beginning of a war.
"The board of directors just called an emergency meeting."
My stomach dropped.
"Now?" I asked.
She nodded. "Top floor. They’re already assembling."
I glanced down at the folders on my desk, then back at her. "Do you know what it’s about?"
She hesitated. "I think it’s personal."
Of course it is.
I stood, straightened my blazer, and gave her a sharp nod. "Fine. Let them try."
***
The boardroom was cold. Physically and emotionally.
Twelve men and two women sat along the sleek obsidian table, their expressions stony. Their polished shoes reflected off the marble floor. Every single one of them was old money, old power, and allergic to the idea of a woman running the empire my father built with his blood.
I walked in like I owned the room. Because I did.
"Miss Miller," Gregory Kane said, standing as if it were court and I were on trial.
"Mr Kane," I replied smoothly, taking my seat at the head of the table.
The leather groaned beneath me as I crossed my legs. "Let’s skip the pleasantries, shall we? What’s the emergency?"
The oldest board member, Crane, cleared his throat, adjusting his glasses as if preparing for a eulogy. "Your... association with Mr Hardin Richard."
I blinked. "Are you serious?"
Kane folded his hands like a priest. "This isn’t a personal attack. But it’s raised concerns."
I fought the urge to groan. Not this again.
"How is my relationship with Hardin affecting company affairs?"
One of the women on the board, Eliza Hart, leaned forward, her voice sharp. "Have you forgotten who Hardin is? He’s a Richard. Our biggest rival. The media has been having a field day with the rumors."
"Rumors," I repeated, deadpan.
"It looks like a conflict of interest," Crane said. "Especially after that ball, the merger deals, acquisitions, and stock fluctuations. Investors are jittery."
I inhaled deeply. Slowly. Then exhaled.
"My personal life has nothing to do with my professional one," I said calmly, fingers steepled under my chin. "We’ve handled every PR fallout and made sure no confidential information ever crossed into the wrong hands. If this is about appearances, you’re wasting my time."
"Appearances matter, Miss Miller," Kane snapped. "When your last name is on this building, when your father built this from the ground up, your every move matters."
My hands tightened on the armrest.
"I am well aware of what my father built. I know how much work he put into this company. While you were sipping cocktails and funding lobbyists. This company is in better shape than ever under my leadership, and you all know it."
"Still," Eliza pressed, "we think it’s time you either consider stepping back or officially severing ties with Mr Richard."
My blood turned to ice.
"You want me to choose between my company and my personal life?"
"We’re asking you to consider the consequences."
I rose from my chair, gaze sweeping across each of their carefully composed masks.
"Here’s my answer: My private life stays private. If you’re truly concerned about the company, then focus on the profits. Focus on the milestones we’re surpassing. But do not sit here and pretend this is about anything other than your discomfort with a woman being in charge."
No one spoke.
I straightened my blazer. "Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a business to run."
I turned and walked out, heels echoing like war drums down the marble hallway.
****
Back in my office, I finally let myself sag into the chair.
I rubbed my temples, jaw clenched. The board never missed a chance to chip away at my position. It wasn’t just about Hardin. It never was. It was about fear. Fear that I was stronger than they expected. That I wasn’t going to hand this company over to any of them just because I was grieving, or in love, or a woman.
I leaned back and closed my eyes for just a second.
Then my phone buzzed.
One new message.
From an unknown number.
I sat up, pulse spiking.
My thumb tapped the screen.
‘He said this day would come.’
My breath caught in my throat.
I didn't need anyone to tell me who it was.
It was him.
Dante.
He was alive.
And he was warning me.
About what, I didn’t know yet.
But the ground beneath my feet just shifted.
And I was no longer sure who I could trust.
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