novelraw Chapter 73: The First Move to Protect Her
Chapter 73: The First Move to Protect Her
(Joseph POV)
I don’t panic.
That has always been one of my strengths.
Even when deals collapse, when numbers fall, when pressure builds in ways that would make most people hesitate—I don’t panic.
I observe.
I assess.
I act.
But as I stood in the center of my hotel suite, staring at the article on the tablet in my hand, I realized something uncomfortable.
This wasn’t a situation I could approach like a negotiation.
Because this wasn’t just about the company.
This was about Yvette.
And that changed everything.
"Sir."
Gregory stood near the door, tablet in hand, waiting for instructions.
I placed mine down slowly on the table.
"PR team?"
"On standby."
"Legal?"
"Already reviewing the publication."
"Media response?"
"Draft prepared, but not released."
I nodded once.
"Good."
Everything was moving as it should.
Controlled.
Efficient.
But none of that addressed the part that mattered most.
The photos.
I picked up the tablet again and zoomed in on one image.
Yvette.
Walking beside me.
Her expression relaxed.
Unaware.
Completely unaware that someone had been watching her.
My jaw tightened slightly.
"Gregory."
"Yes, sir."
"Where was this published first?"
"A subsidiary media outlet tied loosely to European investors."
"Tied loosely," I repeated.
"Yes, sir."
"That means indirectly connected."
"Yes."
I didn’t need him to say the name.
It had already formed in my mind the moment I saw the article.
Sebastian Vale.
If this was his doing, then this wasn’t an isolated incident.
It was a move.
Calculated.
Deliberate.
And if he was willing to use Yvette as leverage—
Then I needed to move faster than him.
"Do not release the statement yet," I said.
Gregory blinked.
"Sir?"
"We respond too quickly, we confirm the narrative."
"And if we wait?"
"We control it."
He nodded slowly.
"Yes, sir."
I picked up my phone.
"Reschedule my afternoon meetings."
"All of them?"
"All of them."
"Understood."
Gregory hesitated for half a second.
"Sir... is this about Ms. Yvette?"
I didn’t look up.
"Yes."
He nodded once.
Then left.
The moment the door closed, the room felt quieter.
Too quiet.
I looked down at the article one last time.
Then locked the screen.
Because there was something more important than damage control.
I needed to confirm something.
I stared at Brent’s contact name for a few seconds longer than necessary.
Not because I didn’t know what to do.
Because I did.
I just didn’t like it.
Calling him meant acknowledging something.
That this situation was bigger than rivalry.
Bigger than whatever stood between us when it came to Yvette.
And if I was honest with myself—
That line had already been crossed.
I pressed call.
It rang once.
Twice.
Then—
"Joseph."
No greeting.
No surprise.
Just recognition.
"You’ve seen it."
"Yes."
A pause.
Then Brent said calmly,
"You’re calling about the photos."
Of course he had already moved ahead.
"Yes."
"They’re not press."
"I thought the same."
"They’re surveillance."
The word landed exactly where I expected it to.
But hearing it out loud made it real.
"How long?" I asked.
"Several days, at minimum."
My grip on the phone tightened slightly.
"Meaning?"
"Meaning whoever did this has been tracking her movements," Brent said. "Not just capturing moments. Studying patterns."
I exhaled slowly.
This wasn’t just an attack.
It was preparation.
"Do you know who?" I asked.
Brent didn’t answer immediately.
Then:
"I have a strong suspicion."
"So do I."
Another pause.
Then Brent said it.
"Sebastian Vale."
"Yes."
The name settled between us like something inevitable.
"Then this isn’t about the article," I said.
"No," Brent replied. "It’s about what comes after it."
I walked toward the window, staring out at the Paris skyline.
"Where are you?" I asked.
"Near her institute."
Of course he was.
"Stay there," I said.
"I wasn’t planning to leave."
"I’ll be there in ten minutes."
"Make it five."
The call ended.
No hesitation.
No unnecessary words.
Just understanding.
I grabbed my coat and headed for the door.
Because whatever this was—
It had already moved beyond something we could ignore.
Brent was standing across the street from the institute when I arrived.
Hands in his coat pockets.
Posture relaxed.
But his eyes were moving constantly.
Observing.
Scanning.
He saw me immediately.
I crossed the street without slowing.
For a moment, we just stood there.
No greetings.
No formalities.
Just two men who understood exactly why the other was here.
"You were right," I said.
"They’re watching her."
Brent nodded slightly.
"I’ve seen the same car twice."
"Where?"
"Corner of the block. Moved after ten minutes."
I glanced toward the street.
Nothing unusual.
Which made it worse.
"How many?" I asked.
"At least one team," Brent said. "Possibly more."
My jaw tightened.
"Purpose?"
"Observation first," he replied. "Action later."
The calm in his voice was unsettling.
Not because it was wrong.
Because it was accurate.
I looked toward the institute entrance.
Students moved in and out normally.
Among them—
Yvette.
For a brief second, I forgot everything else.
She stepped outside, adjusting the strap of her bag, her expression focused but slightly tense.
The article had reached her.
I could see it in the way her shoulders were set.
In the way her gaze moved just a little more carefully than usual.
"She doesn’t know," I said quietly.
Brent followed my line of sight.
"She knows about the article."
"She doesn’t know about the surveillance."
"No," Brent agreed.
Silence fell between us.
Heavy.
Because we both understood what that meant.
"She’s exposed," I said.
"She’s a target," Brent corrected.
The words hit harder than I expected.
Because they were true.
I turned slightly toward him.
"What’s your plan?"
Brent glanced at me.
"You’re asking me?"
"I’m asking the man who already knew what this was before I called."
A faint smile touched his lips.
"Fair."
He looked back toward Yvette.
"We don’t alarm her yet."
I frowned.
"Why?"
"Because panic makes people predictable," Brent said. "And predictable targets are easier to control."
I didn’t like that.
But I understood it.
"So we just watch?"
"No," he said calmly. "We stay close."
My gaze returned to Yvette.
To the way she moved through the crowd.
Unaware.
Unprotected.
And something inside my chest tightened sharply.
"I’m not leaving her alone," I said.
Brent didn’t argue.
"I didn’t expect you to."
For a brief moment, our eyes met.
Not as rivals.
Not as competitors.
Just two men standing on the same side of something that mattered more than either of us.
"This isn’t over," I said.
"No," Brent agreed quietly.
"It’s just starting."
I saw her before she saw me.
Standing just outside the institute entrance, speaking with a classmate—Élise, if I remembered correctly.
Her posture was composed.
Too composed.
The kind of composure that comes from holding something in.
The article had reached her.
That much was obvious.
But she was handling it.
Of course she was.
Yvette had always been like that.
Strong in ways that didn’t demand attention.
Quiet in ways that made people underestimate her.
And for the first time since reading that headline, something inside my chest tightened for a different reason.
Not anger.
Not strategy.
Something far more personal.
I stepped forward.
"Yvette."
Her name left my mouth before I could think about how it would sound.
She turned.
And for a brief second, the world around us seemed to pause.
"Seph?"
Her eyes widened slightly.
Surprise.
Then something softer.
Something warmer.
And that small shift was enough to make something inside me settle.
Just a little.
"What are you doing here?" she asked.
"I could ask you the same."
She huffed softly.
"I have class, remember?"
I almost smiled.
Almost.
"I do."
There was a pause.
Not awkward.
But weighted.
Because both of us knew why I was really there.
Her gaze shifted slightly.
"Is this about the article?"
Straightforward.
As always.
"Yes," I said.
She crossed her arms lightly.
"I figured."
Her tone was calm.
Too calm.
"You shouldn’t have come all the way here just for that," she continued. "It’s just gossip."
"No," I said quietly.
Her brows furrowed.
"What?"
"It’s not just gossip."
For a moment, I considered telling her everything.
The surveillance.
The tracking.
The possibility that she had been watched for days.
But the words stopped before they could form.
Because the moment I told her—
Everything would change.
She wouldn’t walk freely like this.
She wouldn’t move through her life without looking over her shoulder.
And I wasn’t ready to take that from her.
Not yet.
"What do you mean?" she asked.
I exhaled slowly.
Choosing my words carefully.
"It’s targeted."
She went still.
"Targeted... how?"
"They’re trying to provoke a reaction," I said. "From me. From the company."
That wasn’t a lie.
It just wasn’t the whole truth.
Yvette studied my face for a moment.
Long enough to make me wonder if she could see through me.
Then she nodded slightly.
"I see."
She didn’t press further.
And that made something inside me tighten again.
Because she trusted me.
Enough not to question.
Enough not to push.
And that trust felt heavier than anything else in that moment.
We began walking without deciding to.
Side by side.
Just like before.
Only this time, everything felt sharper.
More aware.
More deliberate.
"You didn’t have to come," Yvette said after a moment.
"I know."
"Then why did you?"
I glanced at her.
Because you’re being watched.
Because you’re in danger.
Because I’m not letting anything happen to you again.
The words stayed in my chest.
Instead, I said,
"Because it concerns you."
She smiled faintly.
"That sounds like a corporate answer."
"It is."
She shook her head slightly.
"You haven’t changed."
That wasn’t true.
But I didn’t argue.
A quiet breeze passed between us.
Carrying the distant scent of bread and coffee.
Paris, as if nothing had changed.
As if nothing was wrong.
"You don’t have to worry about me," she added.
"I’m not worried."
She stopped walking.
I took another step before realizing she wasn’t beside me anymore.
When I turned back, she was looking at me.
Not upset.
Not defensive.
Just... steady.
"Then what is this?" she asked softly.
I held her gaze.
This.
This is everything I don’t know how to say.
"This is me making sure you’re alright," I replied.
Her eyes softened.
Just a little.
"I’m alright."
"I know."
"Then trust me."
That word.
Trust.
It echoed quietly between us.
Because trust went both ways.
And right now—
I wasn’t giving her the full truth.
I stepped closer.
Lowering my voice slightly.
"I do trust you."
Her breath caught.
Just barely.
"But that doesn’t mean I won’t be here."
A silence followed.
Not uncomfortable.
But charged.
Because this wasn’t about the article anymore.
It was something else.
Something deeper.
Something we hadn’t fully defined yet.
Brent walked a few steps behind us.
Not close enough to interrupt.
Not far enough to be absent.
I could feel his presence even without looking.
But unlike me—
He wasn’t focused on Yvette.
He was focused on everything else.
The street.
The cars.
The reflections in windows.
The people passing by.
And then—
I saw it.
A black car.
Parked across the street.
It hadn’t been there when we started walking.
Or maybe it had.
And I just hadn’t noticed.
My steps slowed slightly.
Brent’s voice came quietly from behind.
"Don’t look directly."
Yvette glanced between us.
"What?"
"Keep walking," I said calmly.
Her brows furrowed.
"Joseph—"
"Please."
That was enough.
She didn’t ask again.
We continued walking.
But now every step felt different.
Measured.
Aware.
Controlled.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw movement.
The car’s engine starting.
Slow.
Deliberate.
Then—
It pulled away.
Not fast.
Not suspicious.
Just... leaving.
As if it had never been there at all.
My jaw tightened.
"They’re confirming," Brent said quietly.
"Confirming what?" Yvette asked.
I exhaled slowly.
"Patterns."
Her steps faltered.
"Joseph... what’s going on?"
This time, I couldn’t deflect.
Not completely.
I turned to face her.
And for the first time—
I saw it.
Not just confusion.
But unease.
The kind that comes when instinct starts catching up to truth.
"They’ve been watching," I said.
Her eyes widened slightly.
"For how long?"
"We don’t know."
That wasn’t entirely true.
But it was close enough.
Her lips parted.
Then closed.
She glanced over her shoulder.
As if expecting to see something.
Anything.
But the street behind us was normal.
Too normal.
Which made it worse.
We reached her building.
And for the first time since I arrived—
I didn’t feel relief.
Because now I knew.
The threat wasn’t hypothetical.
It wasn’t distant.
It wasn’t something we could prepare for later.
It was already here.
Yvette stood by the entrance.
Keys in hand.
Her movements slower than before.
More cautious.
She looked at me.
"Joseph..."
Her voice was quieter now.
"What happens next?"
I held her gaze.
And for a moment—
All the answers I didn’t have felt heavier than the ones I did.
"We stay ahead of it," I said.
"How?"
"We don’t let them get close."
Her fingers tightened around her keys.
"They already are."
The words landed harder than anything else she had said.
Because she was right.
They were already close.
Closer than I wanted.
Closer than I was willing to accept.
Brent stepped forward slightly.
"They won’t touch you," he said calmly.
Yvette looked between us.
"You sound very sure."
"I am."
For a moment, none of us spoke.
Then Yvette nodded slowly.
"Alright."
She opened the door.
But before stepping inside—
She turned back.
And looked at me.
Not as the CEO.
Not as her adoptive brother.
Not as anything defined.
Just me.
"Don’t keep things from me," she said softly.
The words hit deeper than they should have.
Because I already was.
"I won’t," I replied.
Another half-truth.
She held my gaze for a second longer.
Then went inside.
The door closed behind her.
And just like that—
She was out of sight.
But not out of danger.
I exhaled slowly.
"She knows something’s wrong," Brent said.
"Yes."
"You didn’t tell her everything."
"No."
He didn’t argue.
Didn’t question.
Just nodded once.
Because he understood why.
We stood there for a moment.
Watching the building.
The street.
The silence.
Then my phone vibrated.
Gregory.
I answered immediately.
"Yes."
"Sir," he said, voice tight.
"We’ve confirmed movement from Vale Group."
My grip tightened.
"What kind of movement?"
"A quiet acquisition... in Paris."
I looked up at the building again.
At the window I knew was hers.
And for the first time—
The situation felt like something larger than strategy.
Larger than rivalry.
Larger than anything I could control.
Because this wasn’t just about business anymore.
"Joseph," Brent said quietly beside me.
"Yes."
"This isn’t the opening move."
I already knew.
"This is the board being set."