I Stopped Loving Him When He Let Me Bleed Out novel Chapter 399

Sienna was incredibly perceptive and immediately sensed the tension. She lowered her voice.

"Is it not going well?"

Finn took a step closer, brushing up against her side. He lowered his head, his lips hovering mere inches from her ear.

"Just minor issues. You don't need to worry."

The crisp, clean scent of him washed over her with his proximity, laced with the faintest hint of a woodsy cologne.

Sienna's heart rate spiked instantly.

When Finn pulled back, his gaze was still fixed on her face.

It was deep and unwavering.

Yet, beneath it all, she could still detect the thin, carefully concealed veil of exhaustion in his eyes.

He was exhausted, pushing through on sheer willpower.

Sienna's gaze drifted over Finn's shoulder. She spotted Lance standing at the end of the corridor, pale-faced and pacing like a cat on a hot tin roof.

She quickly pulled her attention back.

"Go do what you need to do. I'll be waiting for you."

Finn didn't leave immediately.

He glanced down at her hand resting by her side, reached out, and enveloped it in his.

His palm was searing hot. He squeezed her fingers tightly, then released them—the entire interaction lasting less than two seconds, as if he was afraid that if he held on any longer, he'd never want to let go.

His voice dropped a fraction lower than before.

"Would you rather wait in the lounge, or come watch the presentation in the hall?"

Sienna could still feel the lingering warmth of his fingertips.

"Is the hall allowed?"

He turned his head and gave Terrence a look.

Terrence nodded immediately. "I'll make the arrangements."

Finn turned and walked away, a trailing entourage of executives following him into the conference hall.

Sienna watched him go.

His strides were brisk, his shoulders perfectly squared.

Sometimes, taking the longer detour is the fastest way to your destination. The westside project is that aviation route. It's not the quickest path to a quick buck, but it is the most secure one. Give this land to me, and three years from now, it will be exactly the triumph you envision."

Finn stood on that stage, towering like an unshakeable oak.

It was impossible not to look up to him.

The room fell silent for three seconds. Several committee members exchanged glances and gave slow, approving nods.

One person set their pen down, a satisfied smirk touching their lips.

Another leaned over to whisper to a colleague. The words were inaudible, but the tone was undeniably positive.

"Mr. Fletcher," one of the committee members suddenly spoke up. "I understand you were one of the youngest decorated captains in the fleet. Could you share a bit about that experience?"

Finn inclined his head, his tone completely level.

"Three years ago, flying from Frankfurt back home. Forty minutes after takeoff, we experienced a total failure in the right engine. We were at twenty-seven thousand feet, over a hundred miles from the nearest alternate airport, with two hundred and seventeen passengers on board.

The cockpit alarms blared for twenty-seven seconds straight before I silenced them. I manually took over the yoke.

The plane ultimately touched down safely. We veered forty feet off the runway, but there were zero casualties.

Post-flight inspections revealed severe aging in the fuel lines. But in that moment, at twenty-seven thousand feet, the only thing I could rely on was myself."