The CEO's office was silent except for the knock on the door.
Dominic Everett stepped in, carrying a folder thick enough to strangle someone with. "Mr. Laurent, this is everything on Nyx Collective."
He placed it on the desk.
Ashton picked up the folder, flipping through it without a word.
With each page, his jaw set a little tighter.
By the time he reached the middle, the muscle under his cheekbone was pulsing.
So that was what Mirabelle had been dealing with.
Petty backstabbing.
Being undercut by her own team.
Screamed at in meetings by people who couldn't even carry her shoes.
"f*****g hell," he muttered.
He leaned back in his chair, report still in hand, his fingers tapping against one name.
"This Rexford Caldwell—why does that sound familiar?"
