Chapter 29

FREYA 

I never thought I’d find myself in a boardroom.

Not one like this.

The long, polished mahogany table stretched out beneath a chandelier that looked like it belonged in a palace. Everything gleamed—the glass walls, the branded folders lined up at each seat, the calm surface of water in crystal pitchers, as if even the beverages had been instructed to behave. It was a stark contrast to the churning in my stomach.

I’d dressed with more precision than usual that morning—black wide-legged trousers, a sleek blouse tucked in just right, and a tailored blazer that Brandon had insisted I wear. “You’ll look the part,” he said. “Because you are.”

Still, I wasn’t sure if I was ready for what this morning meant. Not until I stepped into that room and saw their faces.

Especially Bryan’s.

And Rachelle’s.

They were already seated when we arrived. Brandon walked in first, a natural in these spaces, his calm authority pressing into the room like gravity. I followed a step behind, chin lifted, even if my palms were slick and my pulse was drumming too hard in my ears.

Bryan’s eyes narrowed before they even met mine. And Rachelle—well, I could see her mask falter just enough for satisfaction to tug at the corners of my mouth. I wasn’t here to gloat. But I wasn’t going to shrink, either.

Brandon pulled out a chair for me. “Sit next to me,” he said gently, like it was the most natural thing in the world. I did.

Kyle, already seated, offered me a brief nod and a supportive smile before glancing down at his notes. The other board members murmured greetings. Polite. Curious. I felt the shift in the air, that ripple of unspoken question:

What is she doing here?

Brandon didn't leave them wondering for long.

He stood once the meeting was officially called to order, his hand resting on the back of my chair. Calm, collected. Commanding. “Before we begin today’s agenda,” he said, “I want to formally introduce someone many of you already know in a personal context. But from today onward, she will be part of the company in a new capacity.”

He turned to me, and for a moment, our eyes met. Something flickered there. Pride, I think. Maybe something more intimate. Then he looked back at the room.

“Freya, my wife, will be joining our leadership development track. Effective immediately, she’ll be working directly with me and Kyle across internal strategy and client relations. Consider this her transition into an executive mentorship.”

The silence that followed was sharp enough to cut glass.

I watched Bryan stiffen, the disbelief rolling over him in real time. Rachelle sat straighter, eyes darting to the other board members, then back to me, as if trying to re-calculate a chessboard that had changed without her noticing.

Someone finally cleared their throat—a man with salt-and-pepper hair and a classic navy suit. “That’s... quite the announcement, Brandon. Was this cleared in the last executive session?”

Brandon smiled, ever so slightly. “It didn’t need to be. As Vice-President, I have discretion over internal mentorship placements. Especially those tied directly to my office. And Freya’s background in communications and her recent insight into some of our... more delicate personnel challenges, make her uniquely suited to the role.”

Another voice. One of the younger partners. “Is this permanent?”

“Let’s call it long-term with growth potential,” Brandon said smoothly. “She’ll be shadowing me to start. Over the next quarter, I expect she’ll be taking on projects of her own.”

My heart was still racing, but I kept my face composed. I could feel Bryan’s stare trying to burn holes into the side of my head.

Finally, he spoke.

“Is this really wise, Brandon?” His voice was calm, but cold. Calculated. “You’re already stretched thin. The optics of bringing in someone... with a personal connection... may raise questions.”

Brandon didn’t even blink. “I’m not concerned about optics. I’m concerned about results. And Freya’s insight has already helped identify two key inefficiencies in our client workflow in the last month. If you’d like to talk about performance, I’m happy to bring numbers to the next meeting.”

Bryan opened his mouth again, but Rachelle cut in, her smile tight. “Of course, we all want what’s best for the company. We’re just... surprised. That’s all.”

I finally turned to look at her, fully, and returned the smile. “Surprises keep things interesting, don’t they?”

Her lips twitched, but she didn’t respond.

The meeting moved on after that. Or at least, it tried to. The agenda resumed, Kyle jumped into quarterly numbers, and Brandon took notes on his tablet like this was any other Thursday. But the room had changed.

I had changed.

I sat taller with every passing minute, every nod from the other executives, every glance that came not just from curiosity, but from recognition. It was subtle, but it was there.

I wasn’t the woman at Brandon’s side anymore.

I was a player now.

When the meeting adjourned, people lingered to shake hands and share quiet thoughts over coffee. One of the more senior board members—a woman named Eleanor—leaned in as she passed me. “Impressive move,” she said softly. “Don’t let them rattle you. They always need time to adjust to something new.”

“Thank you,” I said sincerely. “I won’t.”

Brandon was speaking with Kyle near the window, going over something on a tablet. I gave them space, walking slowly toward the coffee station just to move. Just to breathe.

That’s when Bryan appeared beside me.

“You’ve got guts,” he said without turning to look at me. “I’ll give you that.”

I took a paper cup, poured myself some coffee, and kept my tone even. “Was that a compliment?”

“It was an observation.”

“Then here’s mine.” I turned to face him. “You underestimated me. Again.”

He narrowed his eyes. “You think this seat at the table means you’ve won something?”

I leaned in just slightly, my voice soft but steady. “I think it means you’re no longer the only one who knows how to play the game.”

Before he could respond, Brandon’s voice cut cleanly through the air.

“Is there a problem here?”

Bryan stepped back, composed again, ever the actor. “Not at all. Just a friendly chat.”

Brandon slid an arm around my waist—not possessively, but with unmistakable clarity. “Well, I’d hate for anyone to misinterpret your intentions.”

Bryan looked between us. And for the first time, I saw something crack in him. Not just anger. Not just arrogance. But something else.

Fear.

And I realized, right then, he didn’t know what we were capable of.

Not anymore.

On the drive home, Brandon didn’t say much. Neither did I. The silence wasn’t heavy. It was thick with possibility. With unspoken plans. With the understanding that we’d crossed a line we could never return from.

“I’m proud of you,” he said finally, his hand resting briefly over mine at a red light. “You handled yourself perfectly.”

I turned to look at him. “So did you.”

He grinned. “I always do.”

I laughed, relaxing at last. “That was a hell of a first day.”

He smirked. “Ready for day two?”

I looked out the window at the city we were carving our place into. “More than ever.”