Legally Not Yours

The Change

POV: Leah

The video was short. Thirty seconds, maybe. But it told a story we could never erase.

Two dashcams, one from a parked sedan across the street, the other from a delivery van pulling out of the lot. They caught Eva in a red coat, hair pinned up like she belonged on the front page of a luxury magazine, not crouching beside Jeff’s car.

Tools in hand. She looked around. Calm. Certain. Then she reached under the vehicle — out of frame for only three seconds, and stood up with a satisfied smile.

A whisper to no one: “This should buy us some space.”

She walked away like she’d just secured a lunch reservation, not sabotaging a man’s life.

I watched the video twice, but Jared didn’t speak until I did.

“You have to turn her in,” I said. He stood by the window, arms crossed, jaw tight.

“I will,” he said. “But not yet.”

My eyes narrowed. “Why not?”

“Because I don’t want a slap on the wrist,” he snapped. “I want to bury her.”

He turned toward me.

“I want the board to see it. The press. The partners who still believe she’s just misunderstood. I want them to watch the video and then see the rest.”

“What rest?”

“She’s sloppy,” Jared said. “And she’s greedy. There’s more out there, money trails, paid silence, hidden accounts. I want it all. I want a case that gives her decades, not probation.”

I exhaled. “And Carlson?”

“He’s falling on his own. But we keep our eyes on him.”

Jared pulled out his phone and dialed Henley.

“I want constant eyes on both of them,” he said. “Especially Eva. She’s not done yet, and she knows we’re watching.”

* * *

Later, over Chinese takeout on Jared’s office floor, I asked him. “When are you going to take over the company?” He didn’t look up.

“I’m not.”

My brows rose. “Why not?”

He shrugged. “I don’t want to be Jeff 2.0.”

I stared. “You’d be a better version. I know you’re better than him.”

“That’s not the point,” he said. “I don’t want to drown in the same legacy that nearly swallowed him. I just want to clean up this mess.”

“You don’t want power?” He looked at me.

“I want justice,” he said. “And I want you safe. The rest can burn.” I swallowed.

His voice was quiet, but it hit.

The next day at the office, everything cracked. I was in the records room, sorting folders when the door slammed behind me.

Carlson. Blocking the exit.

“I missed you,” he said. My heart thundered.

“You’re not allowed back here,” I said, stepping back.

He smirked. “You think Jared scares me?”

“He should.”

He took a step forward. I took one back.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” he said. “We were going to be something.”

“We were never anything.”

“You wore my ring.”

“I wore your trap.” He flinched.

I moved toward the emergency phone — but he blocked me again.

“Move,” I snapped.

“Make me.”

I raised my voice. “Carlson, you need to leave.”

“Say you still want me,” he hissed.

“I don’t. I never did.”

He reached for my arm, and then Eva’s voice.

“Carlson.” We both turned. She stood in the doorway in a cream pantsuit, eyes sharp and cold. “I need a word with her.”

Carlson didn’t move.

“I said,” Eva repeated, “leave.”

For once, he listened. When he passed her, he didn’t even look her in the eye. Eva stepped in, lips painted, tone polished.

“Leah,” she said, “we need to talk.”

“No,” I said instantly. “We don’t.”

She stepped closer. I backed away. “Don’t come near me.”

“You’re being dramatic.”

“I said don’t touch me!”

Her hand grazed my arm, and I screamed. Loud. Sharp. Uncontrolled. And then, Jared.

Bursting through the door like a thunderstorm in a suit.

His fist met Carlson’s face before anyone could speak. Carlson went down with a grunt, blood blooming under his nose.

Jared didn’t stop. Didn’t hesitate. He grabbed my arm, not hard, not rough — but his.

“You don’t talk to her. You don’t breathe near her.” he growled at Carlson. His voice shook with fury. “She is mine.”

Carlson laughed, bloody. “Jealous, big brother?”

“No,” Jared spat. “Done.” He turned to Eva, eyes blazing. “And you? Step near her again, and I’ll release the footage. Don’t test me.”

Eva’s mask cracked. “You’ve become emotional,” she said, backing up.

“No,” Jared said, pulling me behind him. “I’ve become hers.”

He dragged me out of the room without another word.

Back in his office, he didn’t let go. I turned to him, breathing fast, hands shaking — and he cupped my face with both palms.

“I told you,” he said. “You’ll never face him again.” I didn’t speak. I just couldn’t. His forehead pressed to mine.

“I want to glue myself to you,” he whispered. “I want to be in every room, every hallway, every second — until I know you never feel unsafe again.”

“Jared…”

“I’m not letting anyone touch what’s mine. Not again.”

His kiss was desperate. Not just passion. Promise.