My Fiancé Humiliated the Wrong Heiress

I didn’t answer Adrian right away.

The pastry chef was still waiting for my opinion on the revised dessert. I took another bite and told him to reduce the raspberry coulis before dinner service.

Mia stepped off the stage, her face arranged into the kind of pity people reserved for the guilty.

“The company is practically bleeding out because of you, and you’re still critiquing cake?”

Laughter moved through the ballroom.

“She showed up twenty-three times and probably spent half of them planning parties.”

“Anyone else would’ve been fired months ago.”

I looked at the screen.

Mia had removed the emails, meeting notes, and letters of intent attached to every photograph. She had shown only the hours I hadn’t spent behind a desk.

“Turn off the presentation,” I said.

She arched a brow. “Afraid of what else people might see?”

“This is a formal reception, not your personal livestream. Pull up the complete transaction record, and we’ll go through it line by line before the investors arrive.”

She laughed.

“Knowing a few rich people doesn’t mean you closed the deal.”

The slide changed to show her late-night time stamps, contract drafts, and a desk buried beneath binders.

“I’ve been here ninety-four days, and I’ve averaged fourteen hours a day. I organized the due diligence checklist, built the data room, and worked with legal on the final agreements.”

She gestured toward my photographs.

“And what did you do? Golf, yachts, spas, champagne. Your only talent is handing a drink to someone important, then pushing your way to the front when it’s time to sign.”

Several employees clapped.

Mia had done real work. She had organized the files and managed the final diligence process.

But by the time she inherited the project, the investment structure, guarantee terms, and commercial framework had already been negotiated. She hadn’t built the road. She had been handed a paved highway with the finish line in sight.

“Who brought in the original partnership proposals?” I asked.

Her smile tightened.

“Connections aren’t the same as competence.”

“That wasn’t my question.”

“You made the introductions. Without me turning them into contracts, those contacts would’ve been worthless.”

“And the lead investor?”

“This is a company transaction, Elena. It isn’t your personal property.”

“I never asked anyone to erase your work. You’re listed as project execution lead, exactly where you belong.”

“Then why is your name first?”

“Because the contribution report covers the entire financing round, not only the three months since you joined the company.”

Her expression hardened.

I turned to Adrian.

When we founded Cross Meridian, the entire company had operated out of one office with a leaking ceiling. Now most of its seventy-eight employees stood in the ballroom.

Near the stage, the finance director and general counsel lowered their eyes. Both knew Mia’s presentation was misleading, but neither was willing to contradict the CEO who controlled their positions.

Adrian knew more than either of them.

One honest sentence from him could have ended the spectacle.

Instead, he moved to Mia’s side.

“She’s right,” he said. “You need to step away from the financing round.”